::buffs nails against Starfleet issue table, lifting finger to survey effort::
::shakes head forlornly...back home, you could find a decent manicurist even in the most...cessy...cesshole::
::drags bare feet up to table instead, wiggling toes in vain attempt to distract self from the boredom::
The coffee didn't make that many people sick...only the weaklings, anyhow...and the Boss...
::squeals when door sounds, clambering to feet and hurrying over::
Open, open...see, I told you you'd feel all better soon and be ready for a new brew...
::glares when door finally opens, revealing guest::
What do you want?
::almost return venomous look by sheer reflex, just barely remembering reason for braving the ship's current den of sin...by own standards, even::
It's more a matter of what I need, actually.
I'll cut a deal with you. You help me out with your hacking talents, and I'll talk Chakotay into letting you have free run of the ship again.
Hold on, gimme a second...
You. Need my talents.
I'm not even...
::shakes head, turning to go again::
You know, never mind. I'll just find Ayala.
Oh no you won't!
::grabs fistfuls of black and red material, yanking::
::backs away when doors closes again, would be savior still safely inside::
::pats him back down in apology::
I mean...um, wait.
I guess I could use the practice, I haven't had to break the Vulcan's lock in a while...
::shakes her hands off, fighting a shudder::
Ever tried your luck at breaking Borg algorithms?
::heads for doors, dropping shoulders in disappointment when they don't work::
::smirks despite irritation...that's a reaction not seen since a certain other half-Ocampan's teenage days::
She should just be happy she didn't get my...his...er...Paris reflexes.
::clears throat, circling disappointed charge and heading out::
::taps more numbers, staring security padd down::
If this one doesn't work, I'm gonna...
::kicks door, pretending not to hear snort of amusement from behind::
::cracks knuckles...at least the crazy Vulcan makes it fun, countering each override as you enter it...this is just...hard::
I haven't been beaten by a code yet, and I won't start with Barbie's tinkering...
::reaches over to grab another handful of gumdrops from bowl on coffee table, popping one in mouth::
::chews thoughtfully, watching spectacle across room::
::hasn't had...or found...the heart yet to tell mirrorlinnis
that according to her counterpart's bioscan from sickbay, there's no real emergency...the Borg is just dead asleep::
So...you go to school for this, sweetheart?
::jams thumb in one last time, getting...nothing::
::throws hands up, wheeling around::
Yeah. School of hard knocks.
I cracked my first code when I was this high.
::points around hip high::
Beth was kinda outta town for the week and the bitch she told to watch me thought it would be hi-larious if she stuck my food on the other side of a locked door and taped my begging.
::swallows fast, somehow not at all surprised at the feeling of white hot rage that story puts in gut::
That's...you were a kid...
Yeah. A kid who didn't beg.
::pops sore thumb in mouth, sucking while recalling look on Nishi's face when she strolled back into Beth's quarters to find door open, food eaten, and recorder smashed to pieces::
I figured it out.
Never saw the bitch again, either, so I guess she got what was coming to her.
::after a moment, tears gaze away from ludicrous yet not particularly funny sight, patting other side of sofa::
::eyes him, somewhat distrustfully::
::still...skirts eyes to bowl::
::casually saunters over, plopping down and grabbing it::
::fishes, grabbing handful and passing rest along::
I like the purple.