|Up a creek, running out of oars...
||[Jul. 17th, 2009|03:07 pm]
::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::
That's a pity.
::smiles wryly at confused look::
All little girls deserve mothers...nothing less.
::sucks thumb again, cursing own temper::
Like I said, Beth tried. And my real one was dead, so I couldn't really blame her. For long.
The other you, though...you think all little girls deserve daddies too?
::grimaces...should've seen that one coming::
::doesn't have to look long for an answer, though::
I guess that depends on the father, doesn't it? Now, I don't know your me...or most other varieties either, I think...but I'm pretty sure you were better off without him.
::doesn't want to analyze this in any detail::
You met him. What was he like?
::offers sideways look::
I know what you're getting at, and believe me, if I'd known he was him, it never would have happened. I have some dignity.
...he was a drunk. Lousy drunk. Couldn't even remember my name from one minute to the next.
::tries...mostly in vain...to hide twitching lips::
See? Better off.
::finishes off last piece, rubbing fingers on 'borrowed' uniform pants::
There are lousy mothers out there too, though, you know.
Not me, of course. Whatever else she wants to say, Nara never had any locked doors between her and her food.
...for a bad kid, she sure has a lot of good in her. Just as well here, I guess.
Actually, I think Renara might be one of the few people in any universe without a single bad bone in her...
::pre-empts further sap after catching movement in corner of eye::
::shoves bowl back over, but rises a little slower after meeting annikahansen
's gaze as she slips out of bedroom...like a deer in headlights::
::twists as well, staring at former drone and the once again closed door behind her::
Oh, there's gonna be a rematch.
::in meantime, crams another candy into mouth, talking around it::
Well, lookee, lookee.
...what's your favorite color, Barbie?
::stares, fairly certain of assessment that it isn't the usual half-Ocampan present...but somewhat baffled as to why...and the substitute's query::
::looks at ltcmdrtomparis
, taking in his less than helpful expression of amusement before turning back to apparently expectant guest::
::despite puzzlement, gives cautious answer::
I had you pegged for green.
Guess you aren't as Borgy as I thought.
::bends, gripping edge of candy bowl and yanking it from mirrorlinnis
' grip, not without considerable effort::
::sweeps hand to door pointedly::
I think I've got it now.
::almost sticks lower lip out, before remembering hoot of laughter it tends to earn...nobody takes a girl seriously on this ship::
::sighs instead, climbing to bare feet and making exit::
Fine. Next time she locks herself up let me know.
::pauses at door, revelation hitting...no escort back to quarters, no stupid Ayala or furball or blue escort...::
And stay away from Chakotay. And food service. Or you'll be breaking me out of a brig...
::takes second shoulder slump as acquiescence, turning back to face former drone after doors shut...and her patiently waiting look of inquiry::
Maybe she's only half bad.
Undoubtedly the best that could be hoped for.
::makes way over with reluctance, finally taking seat gingerly on recently abandoned sofa cushion::
::places hand down as brace, just as quickly lifting it::
...it is sticky.
::chooses to ignore remark that may or may not have been in jest, moving to sink and wetting rag::
Been a while since I've dealt with that kind of mess.
::presses damp cloth down to candy-coated area, fingers tangling with companion's as she attempts to take over::
::surrenders task to Borg efficiency, settling back on other cushion and just...watching::