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Up a creek, running out of oars... [Jul. 17th, 2009|03:07 pm]


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::stops just beyond door sensors, lifting bouquet in hand to critically examine again...it looks nice, Sam approved, but you never know with some women::

::drops arm, feeling more than a little idiotic for hesitating to enter own quarters...especially after amused looks given by two passing crewmen::

::draws to full height, taking a soothing breath before trying to saunter in::


::pauses...it's times like this a fitting term of endearment would be handy::

I'm sorry I'm late...Neelix backed me into a corner wanting to talk about the shower for Harper and Kyoto and apparently a separate party for the baby's six monther...

::takes in more than usual silence, looking around...she has to be here, the computer said so::

::stops at bedroom door::

::sighs, stepping forward to try luck even though a certain feeling says it's futile...and it is::

::bumps nose, backing up to glare...patience only goes so far::

Seven? Open up.

...the last time I checked, you aren't a teenager, so if we could both try to approach this as two adults...



Fine. Take your time. I'll be here when you feel like coming out.

::waits, slipping occasional look at chronometer::

My patience ends at ten.

::drops flowers, charging back out of quarters and down corridor::

::hits chime::


From: mirrorlinnis
2009-07-17 07:48 pm (UTC)
::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?
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2009-07-17 07:55 pm (UTC)
::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.

(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)
From: mirrorlinnis
2009-07-17 08:02 pm (UTC)
::lifts pinky::

Hold on, gimme a second...

You. Need my talents.

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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2009-07-17 08:05 pm (UTC)

I'm not even...

::shakes head, turning to go again::

You know, never mind. I'll just find Ayala.

(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)
From: mirrorlinnis
2009-07-17 08:16 pm (UTC)
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...

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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2009-07-17 08:20 pm (UTC)
::shakes her hands off, fighting a shudder::


Ever tried your luck at breaking Borg algorithms?

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From: mirrorlinnis
2009-07-17 08:29 pm (UTC)
Easy peasy!

::heads for doors, dropping shoulders in disappointment when they don't work::
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[User Picture]From: ltcmdrtomparis
2009-07-17 08:36 pm (UTC)
::smirks despite irritation...that's a reaction not seen since a certain other half-Ocampan's teenage days::

::rubs nose::

She should just be happy she didn't get my...his...er...Paris reflexes.

::clears throat, circling disappointed charge and heading out::

Better hurry.
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