Star Trek: Starbase 777 - lt-jgs-tr′torre′vnau

His quarters were cool, just how he left it. Renakir stepped into the room and immediately took his jacket off and walked over to the replicator. "Computer, lights 0%," He commanded before replicating himself two baguettes and some Romulan ale. Yes, his snack of choice. Today was a whirlwind in every sense of the word and he was looking forward to just putting his feet up and relaxing. Renakir's shared quarters with Remun was plain, neither of them were very keen on decoration. In fact, it was probably the most boring shared quarters in the whole ship. No customisation at all. Renakir's private bedroom did have some decorations. Photos of his Reman and Romulan families as well as a couple of lanterns he used when he meditated.

Remun entered the common room area. “Computer, lights on. 70%. Temperature at 30C.” With that he shrugged out of his uniform jacket, leaving only a black t-shirt and his uniform standard issue pair of pants. After folding the jacket and placing it on the couch, he went over to the replicator. “Plomeek soup, hot.” He settled down with his bowl on the couch. With a sneer, he realised that there were still crumbs on the cushions. It was Torre’vnau’s job to clean that up, but Remun decided that he would do it later. He couldn’t stand waiting for the Lieutenant JG to finally get his shit together and clean. He’d just have to do it himself, then.

The loud sound of high heels could be heard from outside of the room as the wonderful and lovely Romulan senator shuffled down the corridor. She was stopping at each door, checking the names on the sign. It seems like the rooms had been moved around? There was a bit of jingling from her metal hair pieces and jewellery hitting together as she walked. Soon, the footsteps stopped right outside Renakir and Remun's shared quarters. Valleka chimed the buzzer, but didn't wait for a response before speaking. "Solait, Yolan Zhu! I know you're there," She said, speaking a mixture of Rihannsu and Havrannsu (the Reman tongue). She was tired of Renakir avoiding her and she definitely knew someone was home. At least, that's what her intuition was telling her.

Remun looked up in surprise as he heard someone calling outside. The UT translated it into Vulcan for him, but the language seemed familiar. He put his bowl down on the couch table and stood up. “Computer, open the doors.” As the doors slid open, he stood in the middle of the room with his hands clasped behind his back and his shoulders squared. His posture was straight as an arrow and he had one eyebrow raised minimally in confusion, because he hadn’t been expecting any intrusion.

The senator walked into the room, she definitely had the presence of a Romulan senator. Head held high, back perfectly straight, her eyes staring straight at Remun. She wore the standard Republic dress uniform, complete with skirt and tights. Of course it wouldn't be Valleka if she didn't accessorise with hair clips and rings. Her hair was pulled back into two french braids, jet black strands weaved between silver fabric. An elegant style that definitely made her stand out from any other Romulan. She looked at the man who stood before her. He was not the grey skinned half Reman she was expecting. Instead she was greeted with a very handsome freckly Orion boy who clearly seemed to fit the description of the boy in Renakir's letters, what was his name-- "And you must be Remun, Solait's roommate he wrote about so much in his letters," She giggled, clearly not here for a serious conversation. "You are more handsome in person. Anyway, where's Solait?" She spoke fluent Vulcan, much better than Renakir ever did. She was a senator after all, it was her job to speak to people from around the galaxy.

When she first entered, Remun showed no real reaction. He only had that resting, neutral-judgmental expression on his face, as he tried to make sense of who she was and what she was here for. She was wearing the Republic uniform, which might mean that she was some kind of Ambassador or the like. Remun wasn’t very into diplomacy. All he knew was that he didn’t know her, but she seemed authoritative and at the same time leisurely. By the looks of it, she was a Romulan. It was logical then that she might be here to see Torre’vnau. When she had spoken, Remun blinked rapidly, but didn’t show his surprise otherwise. He’d apparently been right — this woman was associated with Torre’vnau in some way or another. However, she was using a different name for him. Remun stopped blinking. If this woman was using some sort of pet name for Torre’vnau and she was in frequent correspondence with the man — frequent enough to know about Remun, it seemed — then that could only mean that she and Torre’vnau were close. Perhaps a girlfriend? Or a family member? “If you are looking for Lieutenant Junior Grade Torre’vnau, he is not available. He is on an away mission,” he said in the same monotone voice, “I may be able to relay a message from you to him, if you give me your name?”

Her eyes did not wander as she stared straight at Remun. She sounded like she knew him, but in reality Renakir had only mentioned him by name and that he was "frustratingly handsome". She took a step forward so she could get a better look at the man. Yes, definitely handsome, although not what she would expect Renakir's type to be. Still, she was not here to judge, only to gather intel on her elusive fiancé. She most definitely noticed the blinking, was he shocked? Oh Renakir definitely didn't tell Remun about her especially if their relationship was what she suspected. Well, she had the perfect opportunity to stir up some drama and of course being a Romulan senator she was going to dive in head first. "Away mission? Is he going to be alright?" She looked shocked and tilted her head, purposefully dodging Remun's inquiry as to her identity. Not yet, she wanted to make sure Renakir was actually going to come back in one piece.

Remun noticed that she was evading his question. However, he was willing to answer, “I do not presume he has died yet. There is no way for me to know about his wellbeing.” His voice was as monotone as ever, but he had to admit that the fact of the matter was slightly unsettling. He added, “I am assured that the Lieutenant JG is qualified for this mission and will perform accordingly.” In other words, he hoped that Torre’vnau was competent enough to survive whatever trip he was on. Well, now that he had answered her question and had successfully suppressed all of his concern for Torre’vnau, he asked bluntly, “Who are you? Are you a family member or friend of his?”

She crossed her arms and sighed. If this silly green man thought Renakir was going to make it, maybe there really was nothing to worry about. She gently tapped her finger to her chin, thinking about what her fearless fiancé could have been doing at that very moment. And that's when he inquired about her identity again. A not to subtle grin crossed her face as her eyes met his again. "Oh I am his promised mate. All Romulans get promised a partner at birth-- well, Not at birth, No one even knew Solait existed until he was 5, and that's when we were arranged," She explained. She knew Remun was Vulcan raised, but she was hoping to get a little bit of jealousy out of him. "but we've never formally met. Our families are aligned politically, we are both pro Reman freedom of course, hence our engagement."

Remun was no stranger to the concept of arranged marriages. Most Vulcans got engaged because of the Pon Farr. Since Remun was not Vulcan by blood, there hadn’t been any reason for him to get engaged. However, he knew how arranged marriages worked and he didn’t seem too taken aback by this revelation, even though his eyes traced the woman for a second time — something in the back of his head wondered whether she would be Torre’vnau’s type. What an illogical thought. His eyes went back up to the woman’s eyes and he tilted his head slightly. That was the only indication of his surprise or curiosity. He found it strange that she would be betrothed to him but hadn’t met him before. Yet, she had said that they had held correspondence. Remun decided it was none of his business. Not really, anyways. He sat down again in front of his plomeek soup, not inviting her to sit with him, but also not telling her to hit the road. He simply returned his attention to his food before it could go completely cold, and he asked, “What is your name?”

Oh that must have gotten the Orion boy's gears going, she thought, smirking as he tilted his head. What she wouldn't give to be telepathic right about now but alas, at most only some Romulans were touch telepaths and even that theory was dubious as Romulan society hated telepathy. Still, she wondered if her words were having affect on the emotionless green boy. She watched him walk back to his seat, did she interrupt his dinner or something? "You can just call me Valleka," She purposefully omitted her family name, Renakir knew who she was. "What does Solait usually eat?" She asked as she walked over to the empty spot on the sofa and sat down, not even waiting for an invitation or anything from Remun.

Remun showed no reaction to her introduction or to her sitting down on the sofa. The question she asked was rather illogical in his opinion. Why would she want to know what Torre’vnau usually ate? Was she intending to cook for him? Perhaps that was a custom between Romulan married couples. Not that Remun cared! He took a spoonful of plomeek soup, but before he ate it, he said, “He usually consumes grand amounts of bread, a specific type called Baguette; as you can see by the crumbs that he has left on the cushion.” Was it petty to mention the crumbs? Maybe. Could it be excused as logical? Sure. “However, the Lieutenant JG seems to dislike eating in my presence. I fail to know why. He does not seem to have any scruples when it comes to drinking alcohol in my presence.” His voice was vacant of all information, as if he was reading the results of some scientific experiment.

Remun was spilling all the tea about Renakir, this was good. Valleka looked over at the other's soup curiously, wondering what it was. She twirled the ends of her braid around her finger, honestly just vibing whilst Remun carried on with his business. "baguette? Oh well he did study in France-- and he loves Romulan ale, that I know," She laughed as she moved a little closer to Remun. "He's never eaten in front of anyone but his family. And of course not in front of me, he's shy about his little teeth~~ oh they're adorable, sharp and pointy. Hmm it would be quite something if he tried to kiss with those sharp teeth, don't you think? Could you imagine?"

Remun noticed that she was moving a little closer. His brain found that pretty outrageous! And then she started talking about kissing! Wait. Was she… flirting with him?! Oh no. It could be. People had told Remun that he was always rather oblivious about those kinds of things. He hid his face behind a strand of black hair and ate a spoonful of soup, before he replied, “I would imagine that to be quite impractical. Kissing is very illogical in itself. I prefer not to waste my time thinking about such activities.” That was a good sentence to let her know he wasn’t interested in her, right? Remun completely missed the point that she’d been trying to make, thinking that she was flirting with him — which would be inappropriate of her for many reasons! Remun kind of hoped that the conversation would be over at that point. He pointedly didn’t think about Renakir or his sharp little teeth or the fact that the half-Reman was insecure about those teeth. That was not the topic at hand!

Seeing the reaction on the Orion's face only made her want to mess with him more. The way he tried to hide his expression as he ate his soup and his attempt to stay 'logical' in his reply was so cute. "Hmm maybe, well then since we're both technically from vulcanoid culture how about--" She stared straight at Remun, her eyes narrowing. "Touching fingers. Hmm wonder what Solait's hands feel like, probably cold and kinda clammy."

Remun stopped eating. This was making him extremely uncomfortable. He looked at her and his eyes turned ice cold. “If you intend to continue with this pestering, I must insist that you leave,” he said, his tone still cool, but more authoritative this time. “I do not know nor care whether that is usually a topic of your conversations with Lieutenant Junior Grade Torre’vnau. I will not tolerate such illogical waste of my time.”

She stared right back at him, but unlike him her eyes gave away her emotions. She was clearly having a lot of fun and his reactions were only making it more enjoyable. She wondered why Remun kept calling Renakir by his formal title, was it just a Vulcan thing? She sighed and sat back on the couch. "Nah, usually Solait talks about how disgustingly handsome you are," She stood up and walked towards the door, she was done with pestering the green boy for now. "Ever wondered what his true name is? It's very lovely, oh-- that's right Vulcans don't have true names, well I'll leave you be Mr. T'Lauk," And with that she zoomed out of the room!

Remun blinked, feeling terribly dumbfounded. He hadn’t had a chance to ask why she kept calling Torre’vnau ‘Solait’. He also didn’t know what she meant by ‘true name’. This was all very very illogical and confusing. He shook his head slightly and finished his soup in peace. Weird Romulans. He hoped Toree’vnau would return soon, so he could tell him how inappropriate his fiancée was.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. Cdr. Alizati Dzharok

Hello Lt. JG T'Lauk. I have cracked your programme and would like to send you my logs of how I did so.

Remun had just finished his morning meditation when the PADD message reached him. [PADD] To: Lt. Cdr. Alizati Dzharok From: Lt. JG Remun T’Lauk

Lieutenant Commander, I would be obliged if you could transfer your logs to my PADD. If you would like to discuss it in person additionally, I would be available in the middle habitat mess hall in approximately five minutes.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. Cdr. Alizati Dzharok

I will transfer the logs now and I would appreciate speaking in person. I will see you in 5 minutes then.

Remun received and saved the logs. Then, he slipped into his traditional Vulcan tunic over his black pants and long sleeve. “Computer, lights off,” he said and then headed out with his PADD under his arm.

“Lights on at 70%,” he said as he entered and settled down back with his PADD on the couch. The common room was pleasantly warm, thanks to his roommate’s absence. Speaking of — Remun opened an official channel of the starbase and tried to find out the current position of the Eventide. Perhaps it had come back to the dock already?

[D] Finally after quite a long away mission, he was back. His eyes felt like they were burning when he stepped into the room, he had to physically put his hands over his sunglasses. Not only that, but it was hotter than the Romulan Supernova in the room. He noticed Remun was there, but decided to pretend like he didn't see him, of course. "Computer. Lights 0% temperature -30 celsius," He ordered as he walked over to the replicator to get himself something to eat. "Romulan ale, Krei'la," He said as he waited for the computer to make his food.

He was just about to sit down with his ale and Krei'la when he heard the door chime. Who could it be? He walked over to the door and opened it to see a strange human boy. Renakir was much taller than him, standing close to six for five as he looked down at the human. "May I help you?" He raised and eyebrow, very confused what he was doing there. Behind the human was a familiar face, Valleka?

Risren was there, too! Very pissed and wanting justice for what he had just overheard. Spacism was not something to joke about, not in any situation, and he was there to make sure that justice was served. Poor Renakir, he thought. Valleka would be a pretty shitty fiance.

Allan nodded when he saw the other. "Yeah, so. Basically, this woman," he gestured behind him, "claims to be your fiancee and an agent and so many other things, but most notably, I'm just here to tell you she was being spacist, or, in her words, saying that she 'can't trust those dirty, dirty Remans', and when called out on it, she said that there were 'no Remans here' so she can say whatever she wants. And then when called out on that, she mentioned how she was totally not spacist because she's your fiancee. So," He looked at Renakir again. "That's why we're here." (edited)

"Solait, this was a cultural misunderstanding. You know that's not what I meant, I have always been a fighter for Reman freedom and equality," Valleka stepped forward and looked up at Renakir who seemed to be avoiding her. She sounded sincere, but she was also Romulan so there was no way to tell if there was actually truth to her words.

Oh, this was quite the headache. Renakir ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. He leaned on the doorframe as he looked at the two strangers and then Valleka. So they were here to snitch on her? Renakir adjusted his sunglasses as his eyes focused on the tan stranger. "First, you all need to take a bit step back," He held out his hand, feeling like the group was way too close to him, including Valleka. "Second, whilst I appreciate you two telling me this, an introduction would be nice, I do not know how you two ended up with Valleka," This poor tired Romulan-Reman boy looked so exhausted. He had just come from a whirlwind of an away mission and now this shit?

Allan took a step back, taking Risren with him seeing as he was probably still holding the other's hand. "Sorry," he apologized, "I should have... I'm Allan, I actually am pretty new here, I live, um," he gestured to his quarters a few doors down. "And this is my business partner, Risren, as far as... Valleka, she came to my quarters for these," he pulled out the pairs of shorts from his satchel, holding them up.

Risren stepped back as well, nodding. He was in fact called Risren, and he was Allan's Booty Shorts Business Partner. He wasn't saying much, because he feared he would loose his temper and something would happen that he would rather didn't. He just stood there, simply a presence. Not very intimidating, probably, but there.

"Allan-- and Risren," Renakir repeated their names back to make sure he got the pronunciation right. He had a very distinct French accent as he spoke, his tone low and calm. Compared to Valleka, he was much calmer with a significantly more mature aura. "Shorts? Ah yes, I remember from the chatroom. I'm Mr. Eclipse," He actually had spoken with the two ensigns in the chatroom. He remembered seeing their announcement about shorts and was actually planning on getting some for himself. "I was meaning to ask you two for a pair," He said just as a gust of cold air blew from his room. A nice and relaxed -30 Celsius, it honestly looked like Renakir was standing in a freezer.

"Oh! Well, um, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Eclipse," he smiled although the situation was a bit awkward. "Despite the circumstances. Um, your..." he looked back at Valleka, genuinely unsure of what was truth and what wasn't coming from her still. "Valleka did have these made for you," Allan said, handing him the pair that she said were his, hoping that was true at least. He also couldn't help but shiver a bit when the cold air blew threw the room. In fact, he ended up moving to be mostly behind Risren after handing Renakir the shorts, sort of hugging the man's arm. For warmth. Yeah. He hated the cold most of the time. (edited)

Risren smiled softly, still somewhat shaken by the Spacism Shock from earlier but calming down slowly. "Yes, I agree, it's a pleasure, sir. Thank you for being interested in our business," He said diplomatically. Valleka was in the wrong here, he was sure. She was literally making jokes about things that affected him and millions, probably more, every day of their lives. That was something that was definitely Not Cool, much unlike Renakir's room. He himself didn't mind the cold, although it wasn't his favorite. But Renakir had his right to keep his quarters how he liked them.

He was so busy trying to make heads or tails of this wild interaction he hadn't even noticed the two boys were-- hugging? Touching arms. He covered his face with his hand and turned away as a slight green blush covered his cheeks. This was very awkward. He knew other species did not have the same level of personal space as Romulans, but that didn't make this situation any less awkward for him. "Thank... You?" Renakir took the shorts from Allan's hand and gave them an awkward closed mouthed smile. "You can just call me Renakir," He said to the pair before looking at Valleka. Renakir took his comm badge off and clicked a button on the side to turn off the translator, although if the two ensigns had their translators on they would still be able to understand at least some of what he was about to say. Like turning off a light switch, Renakir's demeanor changed from calm to incredibly annoyed as a mixed flurry of Reman and Romulan words came from his mouth. "Fuc-- All you ever-- Remans-- Cancelled, eat rocks," Were the only words that any translator would have picked up. After that was done, he clicked his comm badge and put it back on, returning to his calm self once more. "That takes care of that."

She responded with a nervous laugh before scurrying away down the corridor, her guard right behind her.

"Of course, um - it was nice meeting you, and if you need any adjustments, well, you know where I live," Allan smiled, already turning in the opposite direction when he watched that interaction happen. Huh. As far as he was concerned, his job was done here. He waved a goodbye to Renakir and headed back to his own quarters.

Risren wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but justice appeared to have been delivered. He followed Allan with a shake of his head. "So, that happened," He laughed awkwardly. Those two, Renakir and Valleka, definitely had some things to work out, and in his opinion, Valleka was just an asshole who didn't seem worth it.

Now after that bullshit was done, Renakir was ready to get back to his dinner. He tossed his new shorts onto the sofa and grabbed his ale and Krei'la and retreated into his private sleeping quarters so he could eat in peace. He kept the room dark and cold though.

[D] Remun had been in his private quarters, meditating when all of that had gone down. He had recognized two of the voices, but he had refused to break off his meditation only to greet Torre’vnau. That would have been highly illogical — just like the strange feeling of relief that he was pushing down and trying to rationalise. Finally, Remun returned to the shared common room. He was wearing traditional Vulcan robes of heavy fabric, knowing that the room would probably be very cold. And dark. “Computer, lights at 20%, temperature at 15 C,” he said, not making it irrationally hot for once. He went to sit down on the couch with his PADD and he started writing a work log. He had no logical reason to do this in the common room. Except he was waiting for Torre’vnau to leave his quarters. For logical reasons, only, of course.

Renakir was munching his Krei'la in his room when he heard a familiar voice turn the lights on and temperature up. Obviously he couldn't stand for this and had to go out and correct it at once-- right? He didn't care about greeting his roommate after his away mission, no that would be illogical. He was only interested in getting more ale and turning the temperature down. Dressed only in his new Starfleet Shorts™️ that were definitely way too short for him, Renakir walked out of his room and headed straight for the replicator. He did not make eye contact with Remun or even look at him. "Romulan ale."

Remun raised his head when he heard the other come in and— His brain malfunctioned. Those shorts could impossibly be up to the Federation dress code. Remun respectfully averted his eyes, mostly scandalised. What in Surak’s name…?! “Hello, Torre’vnau,” he said, his tone ice cold, his eyes fixed on the PADD because nope, he would not stare at his roommates booty shorts!!!

At least he was calling him by his name, he would probably go berserk if he heard Remun try and address him by rank again. This was progress to peace, kinda. "Computer, temperature 5 Celsius," He said before grabbing his glass of ale and heading over to the open seat on the sofa. "Hello Takov," He turned to Remun, speaking in a very uncharacteristically emotionless voice. The Vulcan meditation had helped, but of course there was no way he would go full Vulcan. Only a little to throw Remun off his game.

If Remun noticed the change in his roommate’s voice — and he probably did — then he did so with appeasement. He nodded slightly at the other, not even fussing about the temperature this time. Vulcans should be able to control their body temperature, he knew, and though he was Orion he strived to master that Vulcan technique. He’d even done some research about it. “A Romulan woman was here in your absence,” said Remun stoically, familiar judgement slipping into the expression of his cognac eyes. “She claimed to be your fiancée.”

For some reason Renakir found himself staring into Remun's eyes again. Did he miss this? The weird 3d chess they played with words and stares. Well, it was a good thing he was still wearing his sunglasses, but his roommate was perceptive and didn't need to see his eyes to know he was being stared at. He turned his head so he could take a sip of his ale without the other seeing. Partially because he was still embarrassed, but also because he didn't want the other to catch the growing tint of green on his cheeks. "Valleka. She's a senator from Mol'Rihan and indeed my betrothed," Even though his actions were just the same as always, turning away to drink, staring at Remun's stupid face-- his voice remained monotone. "It was decided by our families when my father took me to settle on Rator III."

“She mentioned that it was an arranged marriage,” he said smoothly, clearly not a stranger to the concept. He noticed the way Torre’vnau’s eyes lingered on him, but that was just Torre’vnau’s regular behaviour, so Remun didn’t give it another thought. “She said some… rather inappropriate things,” he finally stated. It sounded like the Vulcan equivalent of a passionate complaint.

He turned to look at Remun again when he mentioned inappropriate things. He was disappointed, but definitely not surprised. It seemed like ever since she arrived on the station, Valleka wasted no time harassing his friends and acquaintances. Of course she would come to his room and bother Remun. "May I ask what she said?" Renakir set his glass of ale down and manspreaded on the sofa. It was hot and he was Reman. Besides it wasn't like his roommate was unaware of the temperature. If he wanted him to be more modest, he could make the room colder.

Remun pointedly did not look at him. “After asking me about your eating habits, she…” he gathered his thoughts and recalled, “…spoke of engaging in sensual activities with you. Kissing and touching hands — illogical behaviour reserved for courting couples, and I do not understand why she found it pertinent to speak to me about it. You understand that I had to send her away.” These were the facts and Remun stated them in a factly manner. Then, he turned his head to briefly look at Torre’vnau. At his glasses, and his glasses only. “I believe she might have been… flirting with me.” The word sounded strange, coming from him, like he himself wasn’t sure of its meaning. His expression remained perfectly Vulcan and stoic, but there was a bit of a scandalized expression in his eyes.

He noticed Remun was averting his eyes, was it the shorts? Or maybe he didn't want to look at such an illogical creature, Remun was always judging him. He was arrogant, judgmental, and the way he said 'Torre'vnau' made Renakir's skin crawl. He wasn't sure what he hated more, the way Remun looked at him or the way the other obviously kept his eyes away. "Hmm, sounds like typical Valleka behavior, she is Romulan. It is common for us to take multiple partners," Renkair stated in a tone to match Remun's. "You sound surprised, Takov." He raised an eyebrow at Remun, genuinely curious what his roommate thought about the whole ordeal. He sounded scandalised, he truly did. Remun was fluent in Rihannsu so he must have known the Romulan courting culture, or at least the basics of it. The fact that they had no word for 'adultery' or that their word for marriage was literally 'trust bond'.

“I was surprised to find that she would be interested in me,” he said honestly. There was no point in keeping this from Torre’vnau. “Vulcans do not usually engage in polyamorous relationships. In fact, it is illogical for me to engage in any kind of romantic relationship at all. I believed that was obvious, but she did not seem to understand nor care.” Yes, that resting judgement bitch face was definitely back. It was crazy how he could make it look so lofty and arrogant and so neutral at the same time. He shook his head slightly, taking his eyes off of Torre’vnau again and back to his PADD. “Perhaps you might relay my… disapproval to her,” he said, managing not to sound bitter, but perfectly emotionless. Yes, he was complaining to Torre’vnau about his illogical fiancée. As if it were Torre’vnau’s responsibility or fault that Valleka had decided to pester him.

"To use a terran term, I believe was attempting to get 'under your skin'," Renakir stated plainly before turning his head once again to take a sip of ale. When he turned back to look at Remun he caught sight of that oh-so-familiar bitch face mixed with judgement and stoicism. It was a face that only someone like Remun could pull off. How could one look so cold but also not show a single emotion on his face? "I do not plan to speak with her again, but if I do, I will tell her that," Renakir broke the monotone in his voice for a brief moment, a hint of bitterness present as he spoke. He was still thinking about what had unfolded earlier. He was at his wits end with her and it showed. "It seems you're not the only one she's bothered. She called me a 'dirty Reman' when speaking with a couple of ensigns earlier today."

Remun blinked, then he said, “Under the circumstances, I understand why you would chose not to speak to her again.” His tone was still cool, but slightly less judgmental now. He put his PADD down on the table in front of him, straightening it to align the edge of the PADD with the edge of the table. It seemed almost OCD of him how much he wanted everything to be perfect. “Is a termination of contact possible in your current arrangement?” With that he meant, ‘Can you just stop talking to her though when she’s literally your wife?’.

Renakir caught himself staring at Remun again. The way he had to align everything so perfectly, even the way his clothes moved as he extended his arm. He was so thankful for the sunglasses, especially when his eyes kept wondering up to the other boy's freckled face. "Yes. Our marriage is arranged, not forced," Renakir stated, stressing the 'arranged' part. "However the arrangement is between the Rylov and Torre'vnau houses. To officially call off the engagement the heads of both families would need to arrange it, which would be my father and Valleka," It felt strange referring to his fiance as the head of her house, especially when he knew just how Valleka earned that title. "Such a move would be politically unwise though, unfortunately."

“How so?”, asked Remun plainly, eyes flickering over to Torre’vnau. It was respectful in Vulcan society to look at the one you were speaking to. “I am not well accustomed with Romulan and Reman politics,” he said, explaining why he had ask. Except that didn’t really explain why he’d asked. Remun wasn’t usually interested in politics. And he wasn’t usually interested in his roommate’s life. Perhaps it was because that woman had spoken so disrespectfully. Yes, that was a logical reason. He could do with that. He folded his green, freckled hands in his lap, fingers interlocking — as if to keep his own hands stored away. He was such an order freak. That was also why he had cleaned the couch and the floor in Torre’vnau’s absence. No more crumbs!

He sat up and pulled his legs together so he was actually sitting properly. It was not because Remun was doing the same thing-- no, it was because he wanted to explain this matter seriously and honestly. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and adjusted his sunglasses. "It is the first official marriage between a Romulan and a Reman. It shows that both sides are willing to join together in cooperation, something that the Reman people have wanted ever since we relocated to Mol'Rihan. In many ways, Remans are still second class citizens, our marriage would add some legitimacy to the Reman leaders, many of whom are my relatives," Renakir's voice broke the Vulcan monotone he was using before and he began speaking passionately as a Romulan. This was something he could not say without emotions as it was something he was very emotional about.

Remun did perhaps look a little judgemental about the passionate tone of Torre’vnau. However, he was listening attentively and he was beginning to understand the political context of the situation. “The engagement is meant to showcase cooperation,” he said, and yes, it was emotionless and judgmental at the same time — as always, “However, Valleka seems unwilling to showcase the required respect.” For once, he wasn’t judging his roommate, he was in fact judging Valleka.

"You are correct," As if like magic, Renakir's voice returned to the emotionless tone he had been using before. He was willing to try and be Vulcan to make peace with his roommate and the fruits of his labour showed. If it weren't for his distinctly Reman features, perhaps he could be a convincing Vulcan. "It does not surprise me that she is not ready to head the Rylov house. Her father was a great man, but it is clear her impatience and greed got the best of her," He sat back on the sofa, holding his ale. He did not go into any more details, Remun would undoubtedly know exactly what Renakir was hinting at. "Which is why this is such a difficult position for me," Was he really here opening up about his family life to his roommate? The same guy he hated so much? Somehow it felt good to be able to speak with an unaffiliated third party and someone who wasn't Romulan.

And there it was — the reason why Remun disliked getting involved in politics. It always had to do with such illogical things as greed and impatience. And murder, in this case, or so it seemed. Yeah, Remun would rather stay away from all that. However, he appreciated his roommate’s explanation. “I realise it is a delicate situation,” he phrased it, and paused for a moment, considering his next words. “Torre’vnau,” he said and sounded completely blank and professional, “May I make an inquiry?” His eyes rested on the other man’s black glasses.

Renakir stared at Remun, trying to discern his opinion on the matter. It was no secret his roommate found his culture-- and Romulan society as a whole illogical, but this was different. This was not reading about history in a textbook or listening to a random lecturer, this was Renakir's life, something that also affected Remun since he was his roommate. "Of course, what is it?" Renakir leaned forward with a sense of genuine curiousity. His eyes found their way back to meet the Orion's, beautiful cognac eyes that seemed to shine under the dim lighting. He caught himself staring after a few seconds but he quickly Surak'd those thoughts aside so he could focus on whatever Remun was about to ask.

“Valleka was using a different name for you,” he said simply. “Solait.” The word fell from his green lips with excellent Rihannsu pronunciation. “I was questioning its meaning,” he stated, looking at Torre’vnau expectantly. His own posture was still as rigid as before — symmetrical and ordered, his hands folded, his black hair falling perfectly, parted in the middle, his robes carefully close up all the way over his neck. He was the picture of logic and symmetry, and in his eyes was a bit of generous curiosity which his face otherwise did not give away.

Now that was a question he was not expecting. Renakir had to think back to when him and Remun first met, he was sure he introduced him using his full name, did he not? "That is my Romulan name," He stated, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead ridges with his fingers. "Renakir Solait ir-Biscae tr'Torre'vnau. As you can imagine having a Reman name on the Tal Shiar backed planet of Rator III would be a death sentence and so my father gave me the Romulan name; Solait," He explained slowly and calmly, his tone more warm that monotone as he spoke of his father. "Is that all you wanted to ask?"

Remun gave a small nod. Ah, so it was not an endearment, then. He had been mistaken. “Almost,” he said, his voice and expression completely vacant, “I was also meaning to inquire about the happenings during the away mission. It is logical to keep up with the happenings on this station and the U.S.S. Eventide.” Yes, very logical. And also Remun wanted to make sure that Torre’vnau was okay. But he’d never admit that.

Did Remun think Valleka was using some sort of title for him? He was aware that Vulcans and other cultures gave their partners or those close to them different titles depending on the relationship. Well, at least that cleared up that, and Remun knew his full name with the meaning behind it. "I am sure you have read the away team logs and can grasp the sitaution from that," Renakir tuend away so he could finish his glass of ale. It was a bit strange he was find with walking around with his ass out, but wouldn't let Remun see him eat or drink. "As for myself. I am unharmed," Renakir stood up so he could return his empty glass to the replicator. "Computer. Krei'la. Romuan ale," He leaned on the wall as he turned his attention back to his roommate. "The pilot of the Sebastion bit me on the arm. It hardly made a mark, but it did add to the stress of the mission," Why was he telling Remun this? The freckly green boy was not interested in hearing his silly little stories from his away mission. The words just seemed to flow from his mouth, as if thet were friends or something. They weren't no. Renakir may have meditated his way to apathy towards his roommate, but he did not consider the other anything more than just his roommate.

“I have not yet read the logs, but I shall.” Remun then raised one eyebrow as he heard the rest of Torre’vnau’s statement; classic Vulcan move. “Somebody bit you? That is… unusual.” He seemed interested enough to make this comment, even though it had no logical value and it added nothing to the conversation. His eyebrow slid back into place, his expression returning back to neutral. “It is for the better that you were not seriously harmed. Operations is already working with insufficient efficiency as it is.” At least in Remun’s eyes. In Remun’s eyes, most things were working with insufficient efficiency — including himself.

That is unusual, an interesting response to say the least. If it wasn't for Remun's Vulcan monotone then Renakir would have thought the other was possibly concerned for him. The Vulcan eyebrow raise also made him second guess his theory. But no, they were here to play 3d chess, not to bond, and definitely not to show sympathy for one another. Never ever. "Everything except for you," Renakir spoke back, not missing a single beat in his reply. He delivered the words without emotion, but the quickness in which he said it made it obvious how he felt about the other's constant struggle for 'perfection'. Whatever that was. Renakir grabbed his Krei'la and ale from the replicator.

Remun blinked. That was not a reply he had expected. “There is always room for improvement,” he said, and picked up his PADD again. Speaking of improvement, he wanted to tweak some things on his program once again. He also felt the sudden urge to tell Torre’vnau about how he had met with the Lieutenant Commander in his absence. But that topic bore no relevance to the conversation, right? He quickly pushed the urge to talk about his day — something he had never felt before — to the back of his mind, and focused on the screen.

"That is a logical response," Renakir said as he walked towards his private sleeping quarters. He looked back at Remun who was looking down at his PADD. He was going to eat his food in private as always, but something inside of him was telling him to ask, "I take it the station was fine? How was work?"Tenakruvek, it sounded much less awkward in his head, but he managed to deliver his lines in perfect emotionless monotone. It helped him sound less like a worried housewife. (edited)

Remun had expected Torre’vnau to leave — he never seemed to trust the Orion boy enough to eat in his presence. Whatever that was about. Remun was willing to just let him go and return to his work for another twenty minutes before he would head to his work out session. At the question though, Remun raised his head. His eyes found Torre’vnau’s glasses once again. “I have been able to improve my security algorithm. The Chief of Engineering, Lt. Commander Dzharok, has helped me in testing its efficiency. I am relatively satisfied with the results of the recent test.” His tone was vacant, but for once his eyes seemed quite soft. Almost like he enjoyed telling Torre’vnau about his day. Which was false, of course. He didn’t enjoy it. Ridiculous.

Renakir blinked when his gaze met Remun's once again. As his roommate began to speak, Renakir's mind seemed to drift off. They might as well have been speaking an alien language and not his native Rihannsu because he was listening to nothing Remun was saying. Instead his eyes were fixed on the other's gaze, the congac eyes staring back at him. And then to Remun's lips as he spoke. Soft, enunciation each word, speaking with a tone as empty as his expression. His eyes eventually found their way back to meet Remun's. Did he sense a hint of warmth? Renakir's lips parted ever so slight as if he was going to speak again, the points of his teeth ever so visible. But instead he just inhaled and then quickly closed his mouth again. He gave the other a nod, not noticing the deeper shade of green that was swiftly washing his cheeks. No, he was not getting worked up hearing his roommate talk about some security algorthim. "Jolan tru," Renakir said before disappearing into his room to eat his Vulcan bread with his Romulan ale. He was totally not flustered or getting shy-- or any of that! No way!

Remun wasn’t too fazed about Torre’vnau’s abrupt goodbye. It was logical to leave after having received a sufficient reply. Remun returned to his work and a bit later, he changed into sport clothes and headed out to catch his work-out. Mans was on a constant schedule and he wouldn’t allow himself any slacking.

After eating his Krei'la and drinking yet another bottle of ale (it was a good thing the replicators only made synthol, if it was real alcohol he would have been fucked) it was time for his shift. He always found it so inconvenient that Starfleet scheduled shifts in accordance to human sleeping patterns. He understood humans and other species needed more sleep than Vulcanoids, but he wished they would bend the rules a little so the Vulcanoids wouldn't be twiddling their thumbs eight hours a day. Something about 'mental health' and 'every one needs down time', but Renakir did not agree. He had 24 hour schooling on Rator III, a couple consecutive shifts weren't going to hurt him. Plus he heard some human doctors used to work 36-40 hour shifts. Grumbling aside, Renakir rubbed his eyes and put his sunglasses on. It was time to go to work for the first time since the away mission. He had been given time off, but he was not injured nor suffered any severe mental trauma. He grabbed his PADD and headed out. "Computer, lights off, 0 Celsius," Yes he was going to make it cold af for Remun and he didn't care.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T’Lauk @Deleted User From: Senator Valleka i-Ch'eren T'Rylov

Sorry to message you, but Solait blocked me from his personal comms. Please tell him I'm leaving tomorrow and I would like to talk to him before I left. You're welcome to join too. I'm sorry for being pushy the other day, I think there was some cultural misunderstanding.

[D] Remun was finished with his work out and returning home to his and Torre’vnau’s quarters. He was still dressed in his work-out outfit and yes, he was also still wearing the headband which made him look ridiculously cute and it clashed very hard with his otherwise so serious face. It was ice cold in the room when he stepped in. He restrained himself from bristling. “Computer, temperature at 10 C,” he said in his Vulcan monotone, as cold as Torre’vnau’s stupid room temperature preferences. He went into his own room, where it was nice and hot. He took off his sweaty long-sleeve, leaving him shirtless, all of his millions of freckles exposed. He didn’t like that, so he quickly changed fully into a closed-up, Vulcan tunic and his uniform pants which were practical and therefore logical, even though his shift was still some time away. He was meaning to practice his lute play. He’d found a new composition in the ship’s computer that he enjoyed and he wanted to play it, but then he noticed the PADD message. With cold, light brown eyes, he read it. He wondered briefly how in the world Valleka had found out his personal PADD contact? But then he remembered that she was a Senator, so she probably had her ways. After reading the message, he was unsure what to think of it. It was logical to assume that she meant all of the things she was saying. It had indeed been a cultural misunderstanding, or maybe more. Of course Remun could relay the message to Torre’vnau, but he knew that Toree’vnau had good reasons for blocking Valleka from his comms. Then again, this was so political. Remun didn’t want to get involved. He typed out a message.

10:18

[PADD] To: Senator Valleka i-Ch’eren T’Rylov @Alizati┊Aella┊Nalas┊Renakir From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

As I understand it, Lieutenant JG Torre’vnau would not have blocked you from his comm channel without sufficient personal reason. I understand however that this is a political matter as well as personal, so I will relay the message to him as soon as I see him again. Why would you wish for my presence, Senator? I have no relation — political or personal — to you nor your situation.

10:21

Remun picked up his lute and started practicing, now that he had dealt with his message. He could find Torre’vnau later. His lute play was an important point on his schedule — like every point on his schedule — and he was really good at playing it actually. (edited)

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T’Lauk From: Senator Valleka i-Ch'eren T'Rylov

Thank you Lieutenant! And I said you can come to be nice. It would be rude of me to message you wanting to chat with Solait and not invite you too. It was nice meeting you byy the way. If I don't see you, please take care of Solait, he needs friends.

Remun did not break in his playing only to read a PADD message. He had his eyes closed and his green head tiled slightly as his fingers danced over the strings of the lute. Music filled the room, an old Vulcan composition. It sounded soft, almost too emotional to be a piece of Vulcan culture. At the end of the piece, he looked down at his PADD again, blinking slowly. [PADD] To: Senator Valleka i-Ch’eren T’Rylov From: Remun T’Lauk

I can not say the same thing, Senator.

And that was that. Logical, emotionally unavailable boy.

Remun continued playing the Lute. Toxic by Britney Spears. Classic.

After a rather eventful day and run in with a certain Romulan scientist, Renakir headed to his quarters to get something to eat and twiddle his thumbs until his next shift. He really thought Vulcanoids should be allowed to work double shifts especially because Vulcanoids also typically handled stress different than humans too. But protocols were protocols and Renakir would just have to deal with the long gaps. "Computer, turn off the lights, -10 celsius," He said as he quickly removed his shirt and trousers in the middle of the common area. He didn't care, Remun wasn't there any what was he gonna do? Dressed in only his booty shorts, Renakir made his way to the replicator. "Baguette, toasted, Romulan ale," He ordered as he leaned against the wall as he waited for his food. He heard a strange noise coming from the other room-- the sound of a lute? Renakir had no idea Remun was a musician, but that green boy was full of surprises. He decided to jump in on vocals, laying down a solid beatbox beat and a melody line. What a skill, but it was something he had used on Rator III to impress his classmates. Oh yes, Romulan rap battles, were not really a thing but he liked to pretend they were.

Remun was in the middle of the song, when he picked up the noise of someone beatboxing to his tune. He was confused and his hands on the lute strings stilled — the music cut off abruptly. He stood up and opened the door, peeking into the common room. “Torre’vnau?” He didn’t sound irritated per se, but Remun was not the type to even know what a jam out session was. He only ever played the lute for himself or on the occasional Vulcan concert — there were no other logical occasions. Remun wasn’t a team player, and he wasn’t a group musician. If anything, he might have been irritated by his roommate’s “interruption” but he didn’t show it on his face. There was only that raised eyebrow of Vulcan judgement, when his eyes found Torre’vnau. Of fucking course the half-Reman had to be walking around half-naked again!!! Really, Remun should have been used to it by now, but his eyes still widened a little — scandalised. “You should put something on,” he said in his Vulcan monotone, “This is a community space, not your private quarters.” He had been meaning to comment on the beatboxing, but truth be told he was too distracted by Torre’vnau’s state of undress.

Renakir was in the zone, he didn't even notice the music stopped and continued, just having a whole beatboxing solo. Sadly his little solo didn't last long because the doors opened and out came his green roommate looking very perplexed. As soon as he heard his own name he stopped and quickly grabbed his baguette and ale from the replicator. It was almost as if he was embarrassed? His didn't even look up at Remun. He was about to make a comment about his roommate's lute playing when the Orion spoke first. They were just having a strange jam session and the only thing Remun had to say was a comment about his appearance? Renakir let out a very loud sigh, partially from annoyance and partially to say 'not this shit again'. "Takov," He began, still not looking at the other. "You are trying to cook me alive with this temperature yet you come here and tell me to put clothes on?" Renakir finally let his gaze meet Remun's, his voice highly emotional, a stark contrast to his roommate's monotone one.

The lights had turned on to 10% automatically when Remun had stepped into the room. He noticed briefly that Torre’vnau seemed embarrassed, but he put it off as emotional and illogical behaviour. The same went for ‘Takov’. “You are in uniform during your shift and do not seem to have trouble working in the standard temperature of the station,” said Remun, his eyebrow still raised. “It is therefore illogical that a standard temperature in this room should trouble you. Computer, temperature at 10 C.” His eyes fell from Torre’vnau’s face to his hands which were holding ale and a baguette. As always. “Try to cease spreading the remains of your food on the couch,” noted Remun. Still no comment about the beatboxing. Maybe he was trying not to think about it, because it was just too illogical. Contrary to Torre’vnau, Remun was dressed in his Vulcan tunic, which looked very sharp on him, closed up all the way over his neck and hugging his body nicely. There were some Vulcan words embroidered on the fabric, reaching from Remun’s right shoulder down to his left hip, following the seam of the tunic. It was subtle, but quite beautiful.

Thankfully Renakir always kept his sunglasses on unless he was in his private sleeping quarters. 10% lighting wasn't terrible, but not something he would want to expose his bare eyes to after working all day under harsh lights. He frowned at his roommate when he heard him turn the temperature to 10 C. They were going to break the environmental controls one day for sure. Renakir could just hear the poor sod who was head of environmental controls for the middle habitat ring. He sighed again and took a step closer to Remun. "But I am in that environment all day. Is it a crime to want to relax at a suitable temperature for my physiology? This isn't a simple human 'comfort' level, I'm Reman," Renakir argued, besides Remun looked snug as a bug in a rug in that Vulcan tunic. Speaking of tunic-- "I like your outfit, Takov. Very traditional, maybe I should wear my Romulan robes one day too," He teased with a very subtle half-smile. His eyes drifted to his roommate's attire. The way the fabric fell over his shoulders, the crisp edges, Remun looked damn good. And here Reanakir was in stark contrast, standing in front of Remun, ass out, baguette in one hand ale in the other. He did not comment on the reminder about the crumbs, Remun sounded like his dad the way he nagged.

Remun did not back away when Torre’vnau approached, but he did cross his arms behind his back in that stiff fashion of his. “Perhaps you should,” said Remun in reply. If Torre’vnau were to put on some Romulan clothing, then at least he’d be wearing some clothing! And that was better than nothing in Remun’s eyes. These booty shorts totally did something for his roommate’s ass, but Remun had no appreciation for such things — way too illogical for him. “Computer, temperature at 1 degree Celsius,” he said tonelessly, trying to make a compromise. Torre’vnau’s reasoning was logical enough, but Remun refused to go to 0 degrees or lower.

Renakir did not get any closer to Remun when the other crossed his arms, ahh a defensive pose. He was happy when the other turned the temperture down, but it was still much too warm for him so he was going to stay ass out. "I liked hearing you play your lute," He stepped to the side and made his way over to the sofa. Of course he did not make any move to eat his baguette or drink his ale, not in front of Remun. He would show his ass to his roommate before his teeth, it was the Renakir way. "I wanna hear Vulcan music next time though," He looked back at Remun, eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses, but he was staring.

Remun remained expressionless as Torre’vnau went past him to the couch. Secretly he hoped that the guy wouldn’t start spreading crumbs again. He and his freaky obsession with tidiness and order couldn’t stand that! After Torre’vnau had spoken, Remun raised an eyebrow and went over to the replicator. “Glass of water, cold,” he ordered and took it from the replicator. Then, he turned around to face his roommate again. “Why would you wish to listen to Vulcan compositions?”, he asked, managing to sound monotone and wary and lofty all at the same time. As if he didn’t have an opinion on the matter but at the same time was convinced that Torre’vnau wasn’t worth playing music to.

He put his baguette in his lap and turned his body so he could drink his ale without Remun seeing him. That's when he heard his roommate's voice at the replicator ordering some water. When he finished drinking his ale (one shot, of course) he turned back to his roommate who still loooed fine as hell in that stupid tunic. "Well, I've actually been... Trying out Vulcan meditation techniques and learning about Surak," Renakir said, his voice suddenly soft as a light green blush formed on his cheeks. "Yeah.. Just curious about my genetic cousins," For once he was speaking without sarcasm or subterfuge. He was honestly very serious about trying to learn how Vulcans lived. Not for Remun-- no, it was just to learn more about himself and his genetic heritage.

“I see,” said Remun plainly, finding it completely logical that somebody might want to find out more about their genetic heritage. He took a long sip of water. Stay hydrated, kids! Then, he looked back at Torre’vnau. He wasn’t one to offer his help unprompted, but it felt quite logical to do so right now, since he was sort of like an expert on Vulcan culture. After all, he had grown up Vulcan. Of course, he wasn’t fully Vulcan, not genetically — something that surely made life harder for him than it would have been, or so he thought. Either way, he said simply, “I would be available to play you some Vulcan compositions. I was not finished with my practice, when you… interrupted.” His eyes rested on Torre’vnau’s exposed knees for a moment. “I would appreciate your putting on some trousers, however.” And with that, he left into his quarters to get his lute, not really leaving any room for debate.

Renakir kept his eyes fixed on Remun, awaiting the other's response. A small smile crept across his face when the other agreed to play some Vulcan songs! Wait-- why was he getting so excited that his roommate, the guy he hated so much, was agreeing to seranade him with Vuclan songs? Maybe he shouldn't think about it so much. As soon as Remun disappeared into his room, Renakir went ham on his baguette. The other had told him to put on trousers, but this very hungry Romulan-Reman boy was more concerned with getting food in his mouth than trousers on his legs. He ate silently but took big bites thanks to the help of his sharp teeth and wide mouth. He was only half Reman, but he had the appetite as if he were full.

When Remun returned, lute in hand, he was not delighted to find Torre’vnau doing the exact opposite of everything that Remun had told him to do. He was still pretty much naked and he was also spreading crumbs on the furniture. By Surak, Remun was so irritated by this man! But that was very illogical, so he quickly pushed it aside. He took another sip of water before sitting down with his lute on the armchair opposite from Torre’vnau.

As soon as he heard the sound of the doors opening, Renakir put the remaining part of his baguette down and turned his attention to his roommate who was now carrying his lute. The show was about to begin and it just hit him that he was still sitting on the sofa with his ass out. With a quick swipe of his hand, Renakir brushed the crumbs onto the floor and grabbed his empty glass that was now covered in scratch marks from his teeth. Good thing all the silverware was replicated. He had way too many bad memories of destroying fine China when he was younger. "Welcome back. You still look damn fine, Takov," Renakir said so casually and walked right past Remun to the replicator to recycle the glass. He didn't order anything else and just went back to his seat empty handed.

Did Remun look at Torre’vnau’s ass as he walked by? No. Way too illogical. Did he want to? Yo, mind your own business!!! If there was a slight dark green flush to his cheeks, it wouldn’t have been noticeable in the dim light of the room. “I find no relevance in that statement. You are repeating yourself,” he said plainly, and positioned his lute in his arms, resting it on his lap. He didn’t even think of taking it as a serious compliment. He had to admit that the cool air wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he wasn’t here for comfort. He was here to practice his lute play and while he was at it, to educate Torre’vnau. “I will play on older composition for you,” said Remun and placed his green, freckled fingers onto the strings of the lute. “The Return of the Sehlat by Sa’gai, a piece from Surak’s time.”

14:08

But before he started, he waited a moment, as if trying to recollect the memory of the notes, or maybe he was waiting for Torre’vnau to give him the go.

Depsite his more laid back attitude, Renakir was still very much Romulan and he could feel Remun staring at him as he walked past. The only thing was he was assuming the other was staring at him in judgement, not genuine attraction. Why would they be attracted to each other anyway? Both Romulans and Vulcans did not bother themselves with physical attraction, illogical and well, for Romulans they were especially weary of good looking people. Pretty faces often had the strongest poison, at least that's what the Romulan proverb was. Anyway, this wasn't about Remun or Renakir stealing glances at each other whilst the other wasn't looking. No way! But Renakir did make it a point to sway his hips a little more when walking back to his seat. He folded his legs and sat up straight with perfect posture. His body language was claerly Vulcan, but he was also still in just his underwears. He closed his eyes and took his sunglasses off, setting them beside him as he prepred to be serenaded.

When Torre’vnau closed his eyes, Remun took that as a sign to start. The first few notes were plucked clinically, like Remun wasn’t really comfortable with them. But after a moment or two, his hands picked up pace and his movements became softer. There was no doubt about the fact that he was a skilful musician. Exotic music filled the room, vibes of desert and sand that clashed with the cool temperature. Remun closed his eyes, green fingers dancing over the instrument easily now. He let himself soak in the sounds, and for a moment he forgot that he was on 777 in his quarters. The music took him back to the red landscape of Vulcan; mountains without trees and endless fields of sand. The music turned darker, almost violent, reaching some sort of climax. Remun was reminded of the sandstorms. And then, the tune went really quiet very abruptly. Like a change of the weather. The middle of the hurricane. It wasn’t the end of the song yet, though. Remun continued strumming softly. He had played this composition so many times, he’d lost count…

With his sunglasses off and the lights still at 10%, Renakir forced himself to give into the music and shut off the rest of his senses. He placed his hands on his knees as he say cross legged on the sofa. The beginning of the song was a little shaky, but soon the pace sped up and the sounds resonated throughout the room. He inhaled slowly, four seconds, exhaled two seconds, contiuing this pattern as he let his mind drink in the warm tones of the lute. And then the climax came, sound filling the room-- until the music softened once again. Renakir's curiousity got the best of him and he allowed one eye to open slightly to peek at his roommate. What he saw was his roommate, dressed in the most beautiful Vulcan tunic, fingers delicatedly plucking at the strings of the lute. Remun's expression look relaxed, his eyes closed, freckles covering his soft green cheeks. He closed his eyes once again, allowing the music to wash over him. Without eye contact, without words, just existing in the same space together. Renakir imagined the two of them dancing together, seeing Remun's beautifully freckled face as they spun slowly in an empty ballroom. Their palms gently pressed together as they floated across the marble floor. Peace. Harmony. Balance.

The music quieted and low notes took over. Slow sounds, like heavy steps. They became louder and Remun’s hands slowly added a jumble of notes. That was it, the return of the Sehlat. Remun knew the story of the composition by heart, he even knew the words to it, but he wasn’t a singer. Mentally, he was in his room on Vulcan, looking out through the windows at the city. In the distance were the statues of the ancient Vulcans, first followers of Surak. And Remun was a young boy, playing Vulcan lute for the first time. He remembered concentrating so hard. He didn’t want to mess up, not with such an important piece of Vulcan culture being placed into his chubby green hands. The music turned into an epic tune, fast and glorious. It was a bit of a tricky part to play, but Remun didn’t struggle with it anymore. After the epic final of the composition, the music softened again. A few last notes, then Remun lifted his hands off the instrument. He opened his cognac coloured eyes, the last note fading gently, as he returned from his daydeam.

As the music continued, so did Renakir's vivid daydream. Now he and Remun were not only dancing together, but dressed in the loveliest robes. A mixture of Romulan and Vulcan attire, the traditional Vulcan script adorned the collars of their robes whilst keeping with a muted and muddy Romulan colour palette for the ensembles. He inhaled once more, held his breath for three seconds, and exhaled as if he could literally breathe in the sounds. As the tempo quickened, so did their dancing. Renakir had one hand pressed against Remun's and the other secure around the Orion's waist as they spun quicker. Round and round-- until the music softened once more and then faded... to silence. Once the music stopped a very solid green blush had filled Renakir's whole face. He opened his beady little silver eyes to meet his roommates cognac ones. He blinked a couple times only to realise he was not wearing his sunglasses and the two of them were actually staring into each other's eyes. The rich colour of Remun's eyes contrasted with his stoic and cold demeanour whilst Renakir's monotone eyes reflected warmth and passion. He couldn't stop staring, it was as if his mind didn't quite make it all the way back to reality. His eyes suddenly widened when he realised just what was happening. It was if a light switch had suddenly flipped on in his brain and he scrambled to his feet. "Thank you," He said quickly, clearly flustered. "Jolan tru," And like that Renakir was gone back to his quarters. He couldn't believe he let his feelings get to him like that. The Romulan-Reman boy even forgot his half eaten baguette, uniform, and sunglasses out in the common area.

Remun found Torre’vnau’s eyes. A curious silver colour, complementing his roommate’s grey skin — grey, safe for the blush on his cheeks which was green just like Remun’s own skin. The relaxed curl of Torre’vnau’s lips, the floppy ears half-hidden behind strands of black hair. There was a distant look to his roommate’s glittering eyes, as though he were caught up in thoughts, or still in the music. The Orion took in all of these little details. Saved them in his long term memory for no particular reason. Remun had the impression that Torre’vnau had enjoyed the music. However, that impression didn’t last. Then the Lieutenant quickly scrambled to his feet and pretty much fled the scene, Remun was left behind dumbfounded. Had Torre’vnau not liked the piece? Had he not enjoyed Remun’s playing? Was that the reason he was so eager to leave? Perhaps he left so that Remun couldn’t play more music to him. It would be logical. Remun tried not to feel hurt. Vulcan lute music wasn’t everyone’s taste, after all. That was when Remun’s eyes fell onto the pair of sunglasses, and the uniform. The Orion couldn’t stand the mess of this place, so he stood up. After bringing his lute back to his room, he put the leftover baguette into the recycler. Then, he took Torre’vnau’s uniform — similar to his own in design. He folded it carefully into a neat pile of fabric, and put the sunglasses atop of it. Uniform and sunglasses in hand, Remun went to Torre’vnau’s door and knocked. There was a hard edge to the look in his eyes. He couldn’t help but find the man’s sudden disappearance rather rude. He could have just told Remun that he didn’t like the music! “Lieutenant Junior Grade?”, he asked as he knocked on the door. Yes, right back to formal address.

Renakir was safe in his cold room, a comfortable -40 Celsius. He grabbed his blanket and threw it over his shoulders like a robe, finally it was cool enough he could be comfortable wrapped up. Deep breaths in and out, he had to steady his mind. It was less about the music and more about what it made him envision. Out of all the things he could have been imagining, why was it that green boy? And why where they touching palms. Skipping the fingers and just going straight to bare palms. How scandalous. Unfortunately for this poor Romulan-Reman boy, his attempt at Surak-ing those thoughts away was interrupted by a knock at the door. 'Lieutenant Junior Grade', the title yet again. He blinked as he stared at the wall, fully aware that his roommate was at the door, but for some reason his body was frozen in place. Rustling and some heavy breathing was all that could be heard from within the room as Renakir's blanket began to slide off his shoulders. How could he face Remun now? Despite not crossing any physical boundaries (staying a stabbing distance apart), it felt wrong to look at his roommate now. They were touching palms. What was next? Make Remun call him s'Jaeih Tao? His roommate wouldn't even call him Renakir, the Vulcan raised Orion boy would not even know what to do with his true name. After what felt like the longest three minutes of his life, Renakir picked up his blanket from the floor and wrapped it around himself again so he could answer the door.

01:25

"Remun," He spoke over the soft hiss from the doors when they opened. His beady little silver eyes locking with his roommate's. Oh how he hated this, why was Remun there, was this all a plot? There was always a motive, always a plot. "Sorry, I left my stuff out," Renakir was so preoccupied wrestling his own thoughts and getting lost in Remun's eyes that when he reached to grab his clothes from the other's arms they touched. Not a subtle brush of the hands, but full on hand touching. He froze, eyes wide, breathing halted, his hands were gripping Remun's for some reason, holding the Orion's soft hands in his own. It was as if the universe was standing still.

Remun hadn’t been expecting this. What, first Torre’vnau disliked his music and now he was grabbing his hand?! What in Surak’s name—?! This was scandalous. This was impossible! Not to mention disrespectful. Remun froze in place for a scandalous moment, green skin against soft grey… No, this was not the time to think about the softness of Torre’vnau’s hands or the glitter in his eyes! Finally, Remun startled out of his trance. Panic mixed with offence. The sheer disrespect for him and his culture! Remun ripped his hands away, clutching them to himself. He didn’t care if that meant the clothes and the glasses falling to the ground. “This is extremely inappropriate!”, he hissed, and for the first time the emotion in his eyes bled through and showed in his voice. He sounded scandalised, surprised and infuriated all at once. “If you really want to learn about Vulcan culture, you should learn first about the taboos and rules! Respect is one of Surak’s virtues, and you could make good use of it, Lieutenant Junior Grade.” His voice was halfway between panicked and offended. His big, light brown eyes were fixed on Torre’vnau, widened in shock. Then, he turned around abruptly, his legs making short work of the common room. He vanished in his room, door hissing shut behind him. Why was his heart bounding so loudly? Why was this affecting him? Why the hell had Torre’vnau touched him? Stupid, illogical, disrespectful, handsome half-Reman!

On the holy grave of Tenakruvek and Shinzon, Renakir could feel the Orion boy's stare burning holes in his eyes. He didn't even notice his clothes and sunglasses falling to the floor when Remun ripped his hands away. The emotional outburst also came a quite a shock, his eyes widening and mouth hanging open to expose all of his teeth that seemed to shine under the dim lighting of the room. Lieutenant Junior Grade, the rank again, not his name, it felt like an insult at this point. Like they were just starting to get closer, but now he was being pushed away. It took him a good five seconds to process what had just unfolded before his very eyes. Remun thought the touching was intentional? Surely his roommate, who spoke Rihannsu as well and knew basic Romulan culture would know Romulans do not touch. Not only that, but Renakir was very suspicious of Romulan touch telepathy. He firmly believed in its existence, so much so that he could have sworn he felt something else when their hands touched. Not anger, but fear? His eyes followed Remun as the boy made a swift exist through the common room to his private quarters. It was as if he had been possessed and Renakir's body began to follow. The blanket he was holding onto his shoulder fell to the ground and a soft crack from the sound of his foot stepping on his glasses (which he did not notice at all). He walked until he was outside his roommate's door, but he didn't knock. He just stared at it. Blankly. His beady eyes blinked as a blast of warm air came from the room after the doors had closed. "Remun," He said in a soft tone, almost as if he was pleading. Without the blanket he was now ass out again, but he didn't seem to notice or care. He wanted to clear up this misunderstanding-- no, he needed to clear up this misunderstanding.

Remun took a few intentional, measured breaths. Five seconds in, seven seconds out. And again. Breathe, Orion boy, breathe. He wanted to meditate. Or maybe go and just leave the quarters, put some distance between Torre’vnau and himself. He wanted nothing but to forget — forget the feeling of Torre’vnau’s hands and his own feeling of fear, of shock, of something else… He didn’t care to analyze it. After all, emotions were illogical. He was just considering fleeing into the computer labs, when he heard his name, spoken softly. It made him strain. Torre’vnau had to know what he was doing here! Behaviours such as hand touching were reserved to courting couples and courting couples only! The only other occasion in which Remun had held someone’s hand (someone who wasn’t his parents) was when he had held on to someone, so they wouldn’t be sucked out of an air lock. It had been a necessity back then. This was different. Torre’vnau was making… advances. Or at leats so it seemed. And Remun was not ready to have that conversation! “I do not care nor have the time to converse with you.” Those were the icy words with which Remun greeted Torre’vnau, when he opened the door. He’d managed to school his expression back into some sort of neutral look of judgement, though his eyes were still glaring fiercely. He stood in the doorway, looking stiff. He’d folded his arms behind his back, his hands far far away from Torre’vnau. And he looked so stupid perfect with that dark green blush of anger or something else on his cheeks.

And so he waited. His floppy ears picked up on the other's breathing from inside the room. It was quite the feat that he was able to hear so many sounds, it was the Reman genes, extra sensitive hearing and sight. Terrible in most situations, why was his mind focusing on his roommate's breathing in the first place? He could hear everything, the rustling of the other's clothes as he moved, the soft pit-a-pat of his feet on the carpeted floor. The noises began to get louder until the doors opened and the light, oh for the love of Shinzon! Renakir's first reaction was to close his eyes and cover them with his hands. It was too bright. He could already feel a pounding headache coming on, ugh why why? 'I do not care nor have the time to converse with you., hearing those words at such a stressful time was not helping at all. It was like pouring salt on a wound and this poor Romulan-Reman could barely even think to form a proper response for that. There were tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but it wasn't like Remun could see that. Renakir turned to the side in an attempt to gate away from the light without fully turning his back on his roommate. No way, he never turned his back on anyone. "R-Remun, the light, please," He managed to choke out, his voice soft and weak. He said the other's name softly, pleading with him. A rare sight of vulnerable Renakir, but he couldn't help it. The light was causing him physical pain. Unbeknownst to him. he had actually broken his sunglasses earlier when he stepped on them.

Remun saw the way Torre’vnau flinched, the way he physically recoiled. For a moment Remun thought it was some kind of sick joke, and Torre’vnau was recoiling from the Orion man. But then he understood. Of course, the lights were causing Torre’vnau pain! “Computer, lights at 5%,” ordered Remun and immediately the room dimmed. He disliked it. He disliked the atmosphere that the darkness created. He had to strain to make out the shapes in front of him, to make out Torre’vnau’s eyes. He wasn’t used to the dark like Torre’vnau, he was merely doing this because it was illogical to cause his roommate pain. His roommate who didn’t have any valid reason to come knocking on his door in the first place! Remun looked at him in the dark, expectantly, awaiting some kind of explanation for why the hell Torre’vnau was bothering him!? Wasn’t it enough that they had touched?! Did Torre’vnau want to drive him away, was he trying to scare him into getting a room transfer? The expression in Remun’s eyes was harsh. He didn’t say anything though. He didn’t trust his voice to come out in the monotone that he wanted to speak in. (edited)

When the lights dimmed, Renakir could straighten his posture again and get a good look at his roommate. He was not expecting the light, although in hindsight he really should have known. His roommate loved the warmth and the light, Vulcan was a desert planet. Bright silver beady eyes and small pupils stared at Remun, blinking a couple times before Renakir sorted out the thoughts in his mind. "I didn't mean to t-t... Touch," He began to say, his voice growing soft again. It was taboo in Romulan society, very taboo. Although touching was not reserved only for married couples, but Renakir was not going to go around touching everyone. "I liked your playing, Vulcan music is very beautiful," By the will of the great messiah Shinzon himself, Renakir was able to steady his voice and deliver his words in a very impressive Vulcan monotone. It was like switching day to night. "I'm sorry," He spoke in monotone, his gaze unwavering. Under the artificial Vulcan persona he had created for himself, in his mind all he could think about was how beautiful Remun's eyes were. Oh how they seemed to sparkle under the soft lighting. His roommate may have not been able to see well in the dark, but Renakir's vision was sharpest in low lighting. He could see every freckle on the boy's face, every strand of hair. Beautiful, was all he could think, admiring the artwork standing before him which was Remun T'lauk. His mind was wandering, it was as if he never hated his roommate to begin with-- Until he caught himself mid-thought and suddenly shook his head. "I won't bother you anymore," He said quickly before darting across the common area back to his room (completely ignore his clothes and sunglasses once again.)

Poor Remun was so confused! However, he was willing to believe his roommate. He was willing to believe that it was an accident, even though it had felt deliberate. He was even willing to believe that Torre’vnau had enjoyed his playing. He was also willing to believe that Torre’vnau was staring at him after making his apology — even though Remun’s vision was very limited, he could sense the other’s eyes on him. Why did he keep staring? Apologies were oftentimes illogical. Regret was an illogical emotion that lingered on the past. Logical was only to tell the other that whatever mistake had been made wouldn’t happen again. When Torre’vnau finally said that he wouldn’t bother Remun anymore, that was when he relaxed a little. Only the untidiness of Torre’vnau’s heap of clothes and the shards of the sunglasses were still slightly irritating to Remun. He did not go and pick it up, though. That wasn’t hiss mess and he wasn’t going to clean it. He noticed that he’d been holding his breath and he finally exhaled. “Surak help me,” he muttered into the empty room, and it was almost like a bit of a prayer, and it was most definitely illogical, but it was also very, very valid in this situation. Then, he turned stiffly around and locked himself up in his room, where he meditated until the start of his next shift. (edited)

He retreated back into his room where he tried to steady his thoughts again. He did not even notice the heap of clothes and shards of his sunglasses outside his room. With his eyes straight ahead he shuffled into his room. A soft hiss from the doors when they closed behind him. He picked up his blanket and dove onto his bed. He still had a while until his shift and he was not going to spend the time sulking or thinking about his stupidly beautiful roommate. He grabbed a PADD on his night stand and began to click some buttons. He was composing a letter to his father. A letter to request official cancellation of his engagement with Valleka. That would get his mind off things, he thought. And so he began to tap away.

[PADD]

Hey. So... Valleka said there was a disagreement the other day. She gave an explanation, of a sort, but I'm still unclear on what happened and wanted to get both sides of the story. Would you be up for talking to her if I mediated between the two of you? It's totally fine to say no. - Eshen

️ P.S. Yes, I figured it out.

[PADD]

Apologies, Eshen. I do not want to see her again. What she said to me is something I cannot take lightly, especially from someone who claims to be 'For Reman freedom'. I hope you can understand. - Renakir

[PADD]

By Kah'less and Surak in a turbolift, what on Earth did she say? - Eshen

(edited)

[PADD]

'You can't trust those dirty dirty Remans'. It seems bad on the surface, but it's worse in the context that many Romulans still believe Remans are dirty because we lived in the mines. The mines that the Romulans forced us to work in. And I was born in those mines. I will not speak with her again. - Renakir

#FreeRemans

[PADD]

Understandable! Have a nice day! - Bitch who got played

[PADD]

I won't hold it again you, it's alright. Jolan tru. - Renakir

#FreeRemans

To: Cerrub i-Ra'tleifhi Tr'Torre'vnau CC To: Senator Meruvix of the House of Torre'vnau From: Renakir Solait ir-Biscae Tr'Torre'vnau Father, I am writing to request cancellation of my engagement to Valleka. She recently visited the station and proceeded to harass my friends to gain information not just on them but also about me. But that's not the reason I am requesting a cancellation. She made some very concerning remarks about the Reman people in front of my colleagues. She called Remans 'dirty' and expressed distrust in me because of such. I strongly advise you to reconsider the engagement and supporting the Rylov house. I would be open to a new engagement, but I want to make it clear that I will not tolerate anyone who does not respect the Reman people fully and wholeheartedly. Jolan tru.

(edited)

After he sent the letter, he got an interesting PADD message. An invitation? From that earth-raised isekai 'I went on an away mission and now I'm a Romulan boy' Romulan. Satok. Renakir furrowed his brows as he read the contents of the message. A 'wild west' holodeck programme. Now that was something. They were going to be roleplaying... Cowboys. Renakir did not know much about the wild west, but he knew it was not too far off to how Reman society used to be before the slavery. It would be a fascinating experience. Renakir picked up his PADD so he could scroll through the options for clothing, he had to dress the part. Once he decided on a fit, he replicated the items and got dressed. Oh, he looked terrible. But, this was the outfit they wore in that time. Renakir reached over to his nightstand to grab his glasses, but there was nothing there. "Tenakruvek," *He hissed under his breath when he remembered what had just unfolded not even a few hours ago. Renakir walked over to his door and stepped into the common area (which was still wonderfully dark) to gather his things. His shirt, trousers, and the shards of his sunglasses. A wave of anxiety washed over him when it hit him. He was without his sunglasses. A sharp inhale and another swear in Havrannsu followed. He did not know what to do. But he already told Satok he would be there. Renakir put his contacts in and blinked at himself in the mirror. He looked... Reman. And for the first time in a while he hated it. His narrow eyes, silver irises, grey skin. He looked dirty, like a boy fresh from the mines. He quickly shook those thoughts away and grabbed his cowboy hat and headed out. * (edited)

To: Renakir Solait ir-Biscae Tr'Torre'vnau From: Cerrub i-Ra'tleifhi Tr'Torre'vnau Call me.

“Torre’vnau?”, he called out into the cool, dark room. When there came no response, he said, “Computer, lights on. Temperature at 1 degree Celsius.” The computer complied. Remun saw that Torre’vnau’s sunglasses were still lying in shards on the ground. It looked like his roommate wasn’t here. Oh, well, that would certainly save him from an awkward explanation! He put the flowers down on the table in the common room, for Torre’vnau to see when he returned. Then, Remun left into his own quarters. He changed into some traditional Vulcan clothes and the left the quarters again. He had heard of a Vulcan restaurant on the promenade, and he wanted to go there. It would take his mind off of things, surely. ‘Things’ being Torre’vnau and Valleka’s invasive question, in this case. He headed outside.

[PADD]

To: Renakir of the House of Torre'vnau From: Tiravurik of the House of Torre'vnau Come to Surak Snacks, I have a surprise for you.

After a million events, all tragic, Renakir was finally back in his quarters. He was greeted by a gust of warm air and blinding lights. "Computer. Temperature -30 Celsius, lights off," He said as he took his sunglasses off. He noticed the flowers on the table, but didn't put two and two together and just walked right past them and into his private bedroom. As soon as he got into his room he noticed a blinking light on his monitor. A message? He sat down at his desk to see not one but two messages. He had blocked Valleka from his personal comms so they were surely not from her. One from his father and one from... His uncle? 'Surak Snacks', that was the new Vulcan restaurant on the station, right? Why was his uncle inviting him to-- No. His uncle was not on this Tenakruvek forsaken station. He took his contacts out so he could re-read the message, analysing the Havrannsu words closely. Yep, that did say 'Surak Snacks'. He took a deep breath and just sat at his desk, head in his hands. Why why was his uncle on the station. The last thing they needed was a second Reman. Tiravurik's presence was definitely going to cause a stir amongst the Romulans.

04:12

And then he moved onto the other message. From his father. He clicked a few buttons on his PADD to connect to Mol'Rihan but.. .There was no response. That's right, it was evening. Maybe his father was sleeping or busy with some diplomat things? He decided to just leave a message.

To: Cerrub i-Ra'tleifhi Tr'Torre'vnau From: Renakir Solait ir-Biscae Tr'Torre'vnau I tried to call but it seems you are busy. Why is Tiravurik on this station? I will be free at 1900 tomorrow.

[D] When Remun came back from his visit at Surak Snacks, he found the room greeting him with ice cold air. It would have made him shiver if he weren’t so in control of his own body. “Computer, lights at 10 percent. Temperature at 20 C,” he said calmly. He looked almost even more orderly and Vulcan than usual. It was that visit to the Vulcan shop, surely — it had brought back all the memories. He had a strange desire to visit Vulcan, the planet, his home, sometime very soon, but he didn’t have a logical reason to do so at the moment. He was still dressed in his Vulcan robes, which were made of a pleasantly thin, dark fabric. They wrapped around Remun’s upper body nicely, flowing all the way down to his ankles. Remun went over to the replicator, got himself a glass of water, and then sat down on the couch. He sat with his back all straight and his posture and face all perfectly neutral, having meditated for a long time at Surak Snacks, and feeling very at peace. Not even Valleka’s flowers — which were still lying on the table — could shake his cool. He simply ignore them, thinking that Torre’vnau simply hadn’t been to the quarters yet, and then he took his PADD and started working again on his algorithm.

After sending the letter to his father, it was time to unwind. He stripped off his stupid looking cowboy get up and took out his contacts. He couldn't help but catch his own reflection in his mirror, two silver beady eyes looking back at him. His grey skin seemed to shine under the dim lights on the floor and for the first time since the academy he hated it. He turned his body away from the mirror as he tried to recall the nice words Eshen had said to him on the promenade....

"I wish you could see you the way I see you." "Beautiful and kind."

As he was starting to get lost in his thoughts, Renakir heard the sound of someone in the common area and the familiar voice of 'Computer lights-- temperature'. Great, another headache, he thought. He was not in the mood to bicker with his stupid green roommate again, but something inside him wanted to face Remun again. No, not after what happened, he thought remembering that horrible horrible misunderstanding. Before he knew it, Renakir was walking outside into the common room again. Ass out as always, just in his underwear. He had his ugly earth sunglasses on too, they looked terrible, honestly. He looked like a billionaire's son who owned five vacation homes on 4 different planets. Renakir walked right past Remun to the replicator, ignoring how beautiful the man looked in his Vulcan robes. He stood in front of the replicator, but didn't order anything. Just... Standing.

When the other came in, Remun looked up briefly, cognac eyes fixing on his roommate’s face — he pointedly avoided looking at anything else. He would never get used to Torre’vnau’s affinity for walking around near-naked, but then again the half-Reman had a logical reason, so Remun could hardly keep insisting on his getting dressed. Not that Remun was enjoying the view or anything, no! Yeah, he would have much preferred if Torre’vnau could just put on some clothes. Probably. He blinked when Torre’vnau did not even greet him. That was unusual. In normal circumstances, his roommate would throw a ‘takov’ his way and then some other illogical things. Now, this behaviour clearly indicated that something was off. Had Remun more social skills, he would have asked what was wrong. He would have asked why Torre’vnau was in a bad mood. However, Remun didn’t have a lot of social skill, so this was what he said: “It is inefficient to stand in front of the replicator without ordering. Computer, temperature at 10 C.” He was an asshole, but not enough of an asshole to let Torre’vnau burn in the heat of 20 C. Then, he said, “The flowers on the table are for you,” and he conveniently didn’t mention that they were from Valleka, thinking that it would be obvious.

His mind was elsewhere, it was as if he was an actual zombie, just walking around. Eshen's words swirling in his mind, it wasn't until the temperature suddenly dropped that he became aware of his surroundings again. His ears picked up his roommate's voice, but the only words that were processed from the other's statement were 'flowers' and 'table'. He slowly turned his head and looked towards the table at the small bouquet of sunflowers and morning glories. "Why?" He spoke in a harsh tone, almost accusatory. As if he were scolding Remun for something. His mind was not in the right place at the moment and his working theory was that the flowers were from his roommate. What was this meaning? His eyes shifted from Remun to the flowers, then back to Remun. A green blush crept across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as the theories just kept swirling about. Was this a confession? A proposal? Was this all just a plot? There was no way his roommate, the guy who had shown him indifference and coldness since day one, could possibly like him. This was surely some sort of great plot, a way to get Renakir to say something foolish so Remun could criticise him for being illogical and judge him moreso than he already did. Sure it was.

Remun noticed the slight blush and the apparent daze in which the other was in. He would have liked to ask what was wrong with Torre’vnau and what had brought him into this state. However, the words didn’t leave his mouth. Instead of staring at Torre’vnau’s flushed cheeks — which would have been illogical at best and scandalous at worst — he returned his attention coolly to his PADD. “I believe it is an attempt at an apology on the Senator’s side,” he said with monotony, raising his green, freckled hands to begin typing on his PADD again. “Illogical of course, as apologies nearly always are. Appropriate would have been a promise that she would stop pestering you and the people associated with you. However, I believe she lacks the maturity for such a promise.” Maybe he wasn’t good at being gentle, or asking about Torre’vnau’s days, but he sure was good at judging people and Valleka was an excellent target.

Remun was staring at him, Remun was staring at him. Renakir quickly turned away from the other, now with his back turned. All Remun would be able to see was Renakir's backside and he didn't care if his ass was out. The cool air from the vents was helping to cool his body down, although it was still a bit warm for his preference. He was breathing heavily, with his eyes locked onto a blank spot on the wall, trying to not think about the fact that his roommate was staring way too long at him. The word 'Senator' made Renakir turn back around and look at his roommate who now had his face buried in his PADD. "Valleka," He muttered under his breath as he slowly walked over to the table to look more closely at the flowers. He found the note, written in a flowery Rihannsu script. 'Sorry for calling you a dirty Reman', it hurt to read those words again. A simple 'sorry' would suffice, but she had to write out dirty Reman again? *CRACK, the sound of the vase shattering to the floor was loud enough to wake whoever was in the neighbouring rooms. The rage of a thousand generations of Remans was coursing through Renakir's veins as he slammed the vase to the ground.* And then.. Like a light switch, he face returned to normal, stillness, absolutely stillness. His eyes were staring at the broken vase, flowers and dirt scattered on the floor. He wanted to scream, he wanted to break down, but something was holding him back. The teachings of Surak? The Romulan calm that was forced upon him by his father? All of the emotion was drained from his face, leaving only a blank expression.

For the first time in months, Remun physically flinched. All of that meditation hadn’t been enough to prepare him for Torre’vnau impulsively shattering the vase on the ground. Dirt and shards were spread on the ground, and Remun’s instant thought was about the fact that he would have to clean that up later. His next thoughts were more situation-related. His eyes went to Torre’vnau’s face, expecting some kind of verbal outburst, alongside with this physical reaction. Remun’s expression was vacant, but his eyes betrayed a few emotions — surprise, a sharp sort of alertness, a coolness that was only slightly panicked… Maybe a trace of fear. “Torre’vnau,” said Remun quietly. He put his PADD away and stood up in one swift motion. He was expecting an outburst of emotion, but his roommate remained oddly calm and quiet. Almost Vulcan-like, if it hadn’t been for the broken vase. “Something happened,” analyzed the Orion calmly. He knew something had to have happened between Torre’vnau and Valleka, something that Remun didn’t know about. Something that had made Torre’vnau so mad. Maybe he was simply trying to resolve this situation so he could go back to work — that would be logical — or maybe his voice was calm and almost soft because he was trying to soothe his roommate. The latter option was quickly pushed away by his brain. “She is not worth your time, or anger,” he said simply. He didn’t lose a word about anger being illogical, not this time.

From the corner of his eye, Renakir saw his roommate flinch. That's when it dawned on him that he was not in the room alone, Remun was there and he saw everything. The footsteps of the Orion boy walking towards him made Renakir quickly take a step back, as if bracing himself for a physical altercation. Of course, there was none. The other's cognac eyes stared straight into Renakir's. Odd how they could lock eyes even with his dark sunglasses, but somehow they did. A vacant expression with a touch of-- was this fear he sensed? 'Torre'vnau', he heard his name from the other's lips, but his body couldn't move, he couldn't even speak. All he could do was stand there and stare, stand there and pray to all the Reman deities that they could make his journey to the Halls of Erabus swift and painless. "Something..." His hands began to shake as his muscles began to weaken. All of the tension in his muscles was starting to get to him despite his rather toned physique. The faintest of growls could be heard from the back of his throat as his breath began to quicken once more. "She called me a dirty Reman," Was all he could manage to say before shaking his head and collapsing to his knees. He threw off his sunglasses as if he didn't even care the lights were at 10%. He couldn't do this anymore, he missed home, he missed Remus, he just wanted to curl up in his little cave where he was safe. Where nothing could touch him and no one could see him.

Remun’s eyes widened slightly as he heard Torre’vnau’s words and as he saw the way the man fell to the ground, bare, grey knees hitting the ground next to shards and flowers. There was a tug in his chest, some kind of heart-wrenching emotion that he couldn’t Surak away, no matter how hard he tried. It was utterly illogical for Torre’vnau to take off his glasses. He would only harm himself. Remun knew as much and he also knew that Torre’vnau was not in a logical state right now. “Computer, turn off the lights,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly stable. Truth be told, he had to deal with emotional people all the time, but he had never before had to deal with someone who was having a breakdown like that. Well, aside from himself, of course. When things got to him, when the world seemed to cave in on him, Remun usually liked to be alone. The room was completely dark, only some slight, sliver starlight fell in through the windows. Remun could hardly see a thing. “Should I… leave?”, he asked quietly.

The sound of Remun's voice was the only thing keeping his mind grounded in reality. If it wasn't for his roommates flat Vulcan monotone, perhaps Renakir would have lost all control. It was the presence of another that was keeping him sane, keeping his emotions from raging war against the logic he had so carefully cultivated in his mind. The Romulan-Reman looked up to see those beautiful cognac eyes staring back at him. The Orion may have been blind in the dark, but the darkness illuminated his features. The twinkling stars outside their window provided the most subtle of light that filled the room. It almost made a halo around Remun's figure, but the Orion's face was vacant. "N-No, please stay.. Remun," He said, muttering the last word with extra care, savouring each syllable that fell from his lips. As if it were his last words. He blinked his beady little silver eyes that seemed to grow bigger as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Tears stained his cheeks, reflecting the light that came from their window. It was as if the universe had stopped and all that was left was the two of them. It was clear from Renakir's he was not trying to fight, no games, no lies, no subterfuge. "I want you to stay with me, please Remun," His voice was soft now, almost a whisper. The Rihannsu words were jumbled up with some poorly pronounced Vulcan ones as he fought back more tears. Romulans didn't cry, he wasn't crying, of course not. His body was still shaking, but he managed to reach out to grab his sunglasses again. Those dreaded sunglasses. They were a prison to him. They were a constant reminder that he was Reman. All of the self loathing, insecurity, all of it, was piling up. "Computer, lights... 10%," He said, but for some reason his hands weren't moving again, he couldn't put his sunglasses back on.

The feeling that was tugging on Remun’s heart got stronger and stronger as the Orion heard his roommate’s gentle words. In any other moment, Remun would have found Torre’vnau’s mixture of Vulcan and Rihannsu inefficient and illogical, lacking skill; but right now they sounded so fucking perfect, so appealing, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Remun let out a small breath. “Yes, I will stay,” he said, careful to keep all emotion out of his voice — partly because Surak commanded it and partly because he hoped that his own stability might help Torre’vnau. Carefully, the Orion sat down on the ground next to his roommate, folds gathering in his Vulcan robes as he sat cross-legged. He was careful not to sit too close, but he was close enough to lean over an take Torre’vnau’s glasses carefully. “Put them on,” he said plainly, keeping his voice smooth, “Do not hurt yourself.” His fingers didn’t brush Torre’vnau’s hands, but they almost did. He gently placed the glasses onto Torre’vnau’s face, pushing them into place on his nose.

In any other situation, Renakir would be analysing the other's expresison. Every eye movement, every word, every slight twitch of the face. But he was in no condition to do that, his defenses were down and he was completely vulnerable,, and that's what scared him the most. Growing up in Romulan society taught him that a defenseless Romulan was a dead Romulan. And through all of this his Vulcan-raised Orion roommate still managed to keep a steady tone. Strange how the thing he hated most about the younger was now the only thing keeping him from giving into his Reman warrior instincts. Funny how things turn out, he thought as he listened to the sound of the other's breathing through his words. He was starting to calm down as well. Each word that the Orion uttered sounded like poetry to him, dainty and beautiful. The sounds of his native Rihannsu never sounded so sweet. The words seemed to glide over the other boy's tongue, flowing gently from his lips. Remun's eyes. He found himself going back to the amber coloured orbs that stared at him, hollow, but not cold. When the other helped put his glasses on, he instinctually moved his hands so they wouldn't touch. The motion was fluid, swift, as if they were dancing. They each knew exactly how to move in sync with one another, careful to avoid any physical contact. "Thank you," He felt his body lean forward, it felt like there was a rock in his chest weighing him down as the space between him and his roommate closed. He was getting closer until he caught himself and quickly scrambled to his feet and turned away. "I'll clean up the mess," He swallowed, biting his lower lip ever so slightly, not too much to draw blood, but his sharp teeth were visible.

If he weren’t so strictly devoted to Surak’s teachings, Remun could have sworn that he could feel Torre’vnau calm down. He was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining it. When Torre’vnau sought out eye contact, he felt… By Surak, it felt intimate, as if there was some kind of connection, some kind of bond — even though they weren’t even touching. It was scary, said Remun’s head. He had never had this before. He didn’t have friends, he rarely had more than neutral colleagues. Even that Vulcan cadet who had befriended Remun during his time at the Academy had never looked at him quite like that. Remun wasn’t unsure whether he liked it or not. Then, he remembered that his feelings didn’t matter. Feelings weren’t logical. It was simply logical to prevent Torre’vnau from hurting himself. Yes. That was all there was to it. Remun was so caught up in these thoughts that he barely registered the way Torre’vnau leant in. It felt so natural, this proximity, even though it was so unfamiliar. There was this moment of possibility, the notion of a potential kiss, but it never happened. His roommate scrambled to his feet and broke eye contact. Remun blinked with a mixture of confusion and some kind of regret or disappointment — all of which emotions that he did not want to analyse, so he quickly Surak’d them away. Logically speaking, Remun should let Torre’vnau clean up his mess. It was efficient and appropriate. However, Remun stood up and said, “I will not leave you alone with those shards, when you have just attempted to hurt your own eyes.” It was simple, plain, vacant of emotion and totally logical, but the look in his eyes was completely honest. Maybe even concerned, but it was hard to tell behind that Vulcan facade.

Oh Tenakruvek, Shinzon, why was his heart racing? Why was he starting to feel anxious again? Just when he thought things were getting better. Perhaps he needed to meditate more. He was giving in to his primal Reman instincts. That's what this was, surely. It was his Reman genes come to wreck havoc on his otherwise perfectly Romulan existence. The self-loathing was back. He felt like a Romulan boy trapped in a Reman body and it made his skin crawl. Renakir closed his eyes took a deep breath, remember Surak's teachings. Calm. He would not allow himself to fall victim to his emotions, not again. He looked up at Remun again, their eyes locking. He saw a blank face looking back at him, void of all emotion-- all except for the blinking. Was he mad? Confused? Upset? The Vulcan-raised Orion did not give him much to focus on with his stoicism stronger than ever. Or so it seemed to Renakir. "You can watch if you'd like," His voice returned to normal, he was calm. He had won another battle, one of what would surely be many. He knelt back down on the ground and began to carefully pick up the shards of broken pottery. His thin grey skinned fingers delicately grasping the edges of each piece, careful not to hurt him.

Remun knelt down and joined him in his mission of cleaning the floor. They would be faster and more efficient if they worked together. That was Remun’s logical explanation. His green hands started working next to Torre’vnau’s, gathering the shards and putting the flowers down on the table behind them. Remun wasn’t usually one to mind awkward silences. They were kind of his thing. He didn’t care much for superficial conversation, small talk or anything that wasn’t work-related. Making conversation was mostly illogical and inefficient. However, he found himself saying, “I have heard from some people that it would be appropriate in such a situation to offer a chance to talk about your…” Feelings. Emotions. Struggles. “Situation. If you would like to share your thoughts. I have heard it helps with emotional distress in certain moments.” Not that Remun knew anything about such stuff. He hated talking about his feelings, it was illogical. He mostly kept all of them to himself, they were between him and Surak and nobody else. Still, it was appropriate to offer a chance to talk, right?

The Orion knealing down beside him and helping him clean would have been the most surprising thing about that evening if it wasn't for the words that came out of his mouth not too long after. Renakir paused for a few seconds and stared at Remun, in shock. Was his roommate actually asking about his feelings? He said 'situation', but even a human could figure out he was asking him to share his feelings. "I'm Reman, well, half Reman, but to Romulans I'll always just be Reman," He took a deep breath as he stood up and took the shards over to the replicator to recycle them. "It wasn't exactly easy to get a promised mate, not many Romulans would marry off their heir to someone with-- with dirty blood," The words stung his lips, making him wince before he shook his head. He walked back over to where Remun was and resumed picking up more shards. "Do you think it is selfish-- selfish for me to cancel the engagement just because of one comment? I'm throwing my whole family name away, I'm the only heir of my house after all. It's not like I haven't brought my family enough shame already just by existing."

Remun listened carefully, taking note of the way Torre’vnau said ‘dirty’ and he was perfectly sure that his roommate was properly hurt by what Valleka had said. It was not logical behavior to let emotions dictate one’s actions, but it was also illogical to let blatant disrespect stand without doing anything. Remun’s hands stilled for a moment when Torre’vnau came to sit next to him once again. He held the shards and looked at Torre’vnau, at his grey skin, the slightly floppy ears, almost similar to those of a Vulcan, those slightly green lips. “I am not knowledgable in the field of Reman-Romulan politics, so my opinion on the matter will be entirely personal and heeding only to my own experiences and the information available to me,” said Remun neutrally. It was his introduction to the following words. “I will say this. I have not known you to be a selfish man, Torre’vnau. I have known you to be emotional, self-contradictory, hard-working, helpful and calm. Never selfish, at least not in my experience.” He was being completely honest here. “And I have known Senator Valleka to be nothing but unfit for an engagement — political or not. A decision to cancel this engagement would be nothing but logically sound.” Finally, he stood up, shards in hand. But before he went to the replicator, he looked at Torre’vnau and said, “You have a decision to make that is certainly complex. This engagement is politically beneficial, beneficial to a cause you support. Is it beneficial to you? A cancellation could be harmful to the political situation, even if it may benefit yourself. Ambassador Spock once said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. The questions remains whether an engagement between yourself and a woman who does not value your Reman descent in the slightest would really change the relations between your races. On the paper, maybe. Officially, maybe.” And then he said something that hit close to home.

14:18

“But some minds will never be changed. Some will always see you as an outsider. The question is whether you want to stand up for yourself despite it. Back on Vulcan, I was not believed to be able to make it into the Vulcan Science Academy. I proved them wrong, I graduated with grades that would have allowed me to go to the Vulcan Academy. Was it selfish to choose differently in the end and enter into Starfleet, only because I knew I would never be fully accepted on Vulcan? Maybe it was. Was is the right decision nevertheless? I believe so.” And with that he turned and deposited the shards in the recycler.

Sitting next to Remun again, he resumed to pick up shards. The sound of his roommate's voice was therapeutic in a strange way. His breathing remained stable as his eyes followed the movements of both of their hands. Grey and green fingers, both dirtied with the brown soil from the flowers, carefully picking up each shard. It was like a dance, a careful dance where both participants were not allowed to touch the other. Their motions were fluid, almost as fluid as the way Remun spoke. Vulcans always knew what to say and how to say it, even Remun was an example of that. His floppy ears twitched when he heard the other praise him-- this was the second person that day to say such things. Hard-working, helpful, the words were spoken in monotone, but they were oddly reassuring. It almost sounded like Remun was validating his feelings? Was that even possible? The green boy who judged him for everything from how he attempted to speak Vulcan to how he drank Romulan ale every day. This same boy was here calling his decision to end his engagement logically sound? For a split second Renakir felt the need to grab Remun and bite his arm-- to make sure he wasn't a Changling infiltraitor or an android imposter. Renakir's movements paused when Remun stood up to return the shards to the replicator. The two locked eyes once again, and that's when the other continued. There was always a part two, it was never one-sided. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, spoken like a true Vulcan, Renakir thought. Just when he thought his roommate was on his side he had to throw out that quote and remind him that his engagement was not just about him. It was about the Reman people, about bringing together two races that have been at odds with each other since recorded history. His couldn't hide the slight disappointment on his face as he furrowed his brows at Remun's response. (edited)

14:52

Those were words he didn't want to hear. He broke eye contact and resumed pick ing up shards. But then Remun continued and revelaed something that was oddly intimate. At least it was to Renakir. To aliens, speaking about your past or struggles was something you only did with close friends, but to Romulans such conversations were much more intimate. Did Remun know he was doing the Romulan equivalent to standing in front of Renakir ass naked? Vulcans didn't have true names, but it almost felt like Remun was revealing something almost taboo, his truth. "You have always acted logically, I agree-- your decision was a good one and I will consider your words," *Renakir looked away when Remun returned the shards to the replicator before standing up so he could follow suit. Once he got to the replicator, he looked at his roommate, and then at the dirt that covered his palms. "We are both outsiders in our own cultures," He looked at the shorter man, standing almost shoulder to shoulder, but not touching. That would be too scandalous. *"Your opinion is appreciated, I have always admired your logic. What do Vulcans say? Logic prevails." (edited)

If Remun was aware of just how intimate his little speech would sound to Torre’vnau, he either didn’t care or it was intentional. Who knew? In any case, he was sharing something very personal, and he was doing it deliberately. He didn’t often talk about the exclusion he had felt on Vulcan, because often people didn’t believe him or chose to pity him, because they couldn’t understand. Not Torre’vnau, however. Remun felt that the half-Reman would understand. Truly understand. The feeling of being different, of trying to do one’s best for one’s culture — whatever that culture really even was. When Torre’vnau came to stand closely beside him, they locked eyes through the sunglasses. Something in his stomach fluttered, when he heard his roommate’s words. ‘I have always admired your logic.’ Those were words of validation and admiration that Remun seldom heard. Of course, people would remark that he was very logical, but they usually did it while expressing confusion or disapproval. When an Orion boy followed the teachings of Surak to a T, it was usually viewed as weird. When a Vulcan followed them, it was admirable. And right now, Torre’vnau was telling him that he admired Remun! “Logic prevails.” He gave a slight nod. “Surak also said that we blame no one so bitterly as those who made us act against the best dictates of our own hearts and minds. My advice to you is merely that you yourself do not become the person who makes you act against the best dictate of your own heart and mind, Torre’vnau.”

15:25

His voice was slightly softer than his usual monotone, and his heart skipped a beat, because suddenly his confusing, irritating roommate had turned into a real… close… acquaintance? Friend? Remun didn’t know what to call it, but there was some kind of relationship. It was scary, because with relationships came commitment and with commitment came expectations and with expectations came the never-ending pressure that was a constant in Remun’s life. Nobody knew pressure and expectations as well as the Vulcan-raised Orion. And that was it, the reason he avoided non-professional relationships. One of the reasons anyways. “I will leave the common room to you now,” he said simply. It seemed like he’d reigned in his emotions, because the softness in his voice was gone now. With that he turned away, walking towards his door.

And to his compliment he was met with a simple nod. A predictable response, but for some reason this time he sensed something genuine behind his words. Usually when they spoke, Renakir was the emotional one, teasing or being pushy and Remun's responses were dismissive, almost patronisating at times. This time however, the simple reply was followed by some more serious advice. Although his mind was processing the meaning of the words he was hearing, his heart seemed to focused on something a little different. The way Remun said his name Torre'vnau. It was a Romulan name, not nearly as poetic sounding as Vulcan names like Remun T'Lauk, but the Orion boy spoke it like it was. It was strange how no matter what language the other spoke, it sounded beautiful. Utterly beautiful. His accent was flawless, he was flawless. He nodded slowly as Remun spoke, the softness of the other's voice made his words sound extra sweet. So sweet it was, dare he say, romantic? In Romulan culture and Reman culture, they did not say 'I love you' to their partners, no, that was too shallow. They spoke truths. Addressed each other by their true names and exchanged hearts and souls through truths. "I understand. Thank you, Remun," He said the boy's name again, slowly, carefully, savouring each syllable that rolled off his tongue. They didn't have true names on Vulcan, but the way Renakir spoke Remun's made it sound oddly intimate. He turned back to the replicator and put the remaining shards in his hands down. And that's when Remun bid farewell and disappeared into his room, leaving Renakir alone. Now left to his own devices, Renakir grabbed the vacuum to clean the soil that was still left on the ground. He then grabbed the flowers along with the note and headed into his private bedroom. He had a call to make with a certain Cerrub Torre'vnau and this was going to be his evidence to make his case for cancellation of his engagement.

Back in his quarters, Remun took a moment to gather his thoughts and then he went back to his work. Sitting on his bed, cross-legged, typing away at his algorithm. He was almost done with it now, he only wanted Dzharok to take a look at it one last time. However, he still needed to contact the Chief of Security for this. Remun was about to shoot a message to Voxellus, when he noticed that the COMMS were dead. With an unchanged expression, he pulled up the COMMS program and tried to find out what the problem was. Which of course was hard to do with only his PADD. Maybe it was his PADD? Or was it all comms channels?

Very clearly, he wasn’t going to find out anything this way, so he left the quarters to go to the comms labs.

Back in his quarters Renakir was talking with his father about the situation. It was hard to keep a calm face through everything that had happened that day, but he was really trying. "This may stunt our unification efforts with our two people, but judging from Valleka's actions I doubt a political marriage is going to solve all our problems," He argued, remembering what Remun had said to him. Renakir sat on his bed in front of his monitor as he held the flowers and note that Valleka had given him.

"I, a Romulan, am not going to tell my Reman son that his reaction to Senator Rylov's words were not justified. However I will remind you, Renakir, this is an arranged marriage, not forced. It would be in your best interest to try and make amends with the senator. I have spoken to Meruvix about this matter." Cerrub's voice was firm, but it was clear he was trying to help. In his eyes, Renakir was the key to uniting the Romulans and Remans. It was unrealistic to think the young Starfleet officer could change the opinion of the whole of Romulan-Reman society with just one marriage, but he would be the first and that's what mattered.

"I understand-- I just. Maybe there's a Reman mate?" Perhaps it was spacist to want to only marry another Reman, but at this moment he could not think about being with another Romulan. In his mind he was done with Romulans.

"That would only be upholding the status quo and you know that. In our eyes it would still be a mixed marriage, but in the eyes of the Romulans you are just Reman. I am sorry if this is not what you want to hear, my son, but this is how things are," Cerrub shook his head at the idea of marrying his on off to a Reman. He couldn't even begin to understand his son's struggles, but hearing the pain and frustration in his son's voice told him all he needed to know. From day one Renakir had to grow up as a fighter. Cerrub remembered sitting with his son and teaching him Rihannsu, practicing his writing so he wouldn't stick out. His only son that he didn't even know existed until Renakir was already five years old. Those five years seemed like fifteen years. Cerrub already felt like he failed as a father once, he wasn't going to make another mistake by letting Renakir cancel the engagement.

"I know. I'm Reman," Renakir's gaze dropped and he turned his head so his father couldn't see his face. He took slow and deep breaths, trying not to get emotional, but he felt so many things. "I don't like Valleka or the Rylov House, but for the sake of Remans and Reman freedom I will--" Just then a loud voice came onto the comm system. It was someone speaking about a security breach and then a familiar song. It was a terran song, Renakir recalled. The Romulan-Reman boy looked around, wondering where or who was doing this. Was this some sort of prank? He turned to his father who also had a confused look on his face. "I'll call you back," He said right before ending the transmission.

[D] The rickroll was already over when Remun re-entered their quarters. He had been in the comms lab, Never Gonna Giving Up on that Cadet’s life (the one with the cat) while he waited for medical to arrive. When the medics had taken over, he’d pushed all of his illogical concern aside and then went back to his quarters. The comm channels were back online. He still had no idea which one of the senior officers (at least he assumed it had been a senior officer) had attacked the comm lines. All he knew was that he hadn’t been fast enough. Perhaps his security algorithm could have prevented such a thing, perhaps he could have discovered the attack earlier, if he had only spent even more time analysing the station’s software. Perhaps— It was illogical to dwell on the past and his past mistakes. The Orion pulled himself together. “Computer, temperature at 10 C, lights at 40%.” He was pleased to see that Torre’vnau had cleaned the common area. At least that was something. A flash of illogical worry for his roommate shot through him, but he quickly dismissed it. Remun sat down on the couch in the common room for a second and closed his eyes. He wanted to gather his thoughts. Who would have a motive to cause a communication lockdown? Why?

When the rick rolling was over, Renakir immediately went to establish a link with his father on Mol'Rihan once again, but there was no answer. He was mumbling to himself as he struggled to dial all the other contacts he had on that damned planet, he needed to tell his father his decision. Thin grey fingers nervously tapped on the table as he kept dialing comms channel after channel. Until one went through.

"Renakir? You know the senate is meeting today, please call back tomorrow ok, dear?" Meruvix Torre'vnau, Romulan senator and unofficial head of the Torre'vnau household. She would have been the head had she been born with Romulan blood. She was Renakir's aunt, a sincere woman but a little scatterbrained. A quick wave and a hurried apology was all she gave before the transmission cut.

He wasn't going to swear, he wasn't going to swear, Renakir was starting to lose his mind. That's when he heard a sound from the common room-- and his eyes narrowed. Remun. Renakir grabbed his sunglasses and stepped out into the common area to see his green skinned roommate on the couch.. With his eyes closed? As usual Renakir was walking around, underwear only, it was warm and bright, what was a Romulan-Reman kid to do? "Remun?" He said softly, walking up slowly behind the Orion.

Remun heard the sounds of the door opening, and footsteps, but they sounded far away. His mind was blocking them out in order for him to better focus on his thoughts. What did he know? Which one of the senior officers did he even know personally? It wasn’t until Torre’vnau spoke his name — in a soft manner, not that Remun really paid any attention to such things, but he noticed — that Remun’s eyes opened. He didn’t look startled, he looked perfectly calm and logical as always. He was dressed in uniform, sitting up straight, hands folded in his lap. “Torre’vnau,” he said without looking away from the black spot on the wall opposite from him that he was fixing with his eyes. His voice was monotone. “I assume you noticed the comm channels cutting out? Computer, lights at 20%, temperature at 5 C.” He was making logical compromises here.

There was a slight gap between when he said Remun's name and when the other acknolwedged his presence. It was only a few fractions of a second, but the image of the other with his eyes closed, sitting calmly on the sofa lingered in the Romulan-Reman boy's mind. Oh to wake up beside that face every morning, a soft voice in the back of Renakir's mind said before being brutally pushed away by his even stronger voice of logic. No, he was not thinking that. Sleeping beside someone? Asking for assassination, that's what that was. Romulans didn't even share rooms with their partners, not without a knife clenched between their hands at least. The other's expression returned to the typical emotionless stare when he said Renakir's name, but for some reason it made his chest tighten. It wasn't even 'Renakir', no, Remun addressed him by rank or family name, but why did it sound so damn perfect the way he said it? Before he thought any more scandalous things, the taller boy took a big step back and folded his hands behind him. "I was aware," He replied, his head turning left and right when the other ordered the lights dim and the temperture down. He passed up the chance earlier, but he definitely needed to nibble that boy's green skin to make sure he wasn't an agent or something. Not only had he opened up to him (the Romulan word for it was 'bare one's flesh') but now he was being courteous? Something was up. "Are you alright?" A general question, but behind his darkened sunglasses he was narrowing his eyes, suspicious of the man in front of him. Oh that Romulan paranoia does run deep.

Remun finally looked at Torre’vnau now. He raised one eyebrow in his Vulcan Way of Judgement™️ and his light brown eyes glittered in the dim light. Other than that, his face remained stoic. “I am perfectly adequate,” he said in a tone as plain as boring toast. Of course, he was secretly thinking about how much of a failure he was for not being able to prevent the attack on the comms line. But he showed none of that. “I went to the communications laboratory during the incident, and helped an Ensign bring the channels back online. The override that caused the lockdown was… concerning,” he said. His eyes rested on Torre’vnau. His face, his shoulders, for a brief second also on his bare upper body — grey skin, flushed slightly green. His mind made a wild hypothetical assumption about the softness of Torre’vnau’s skin. Because it could do anything else, Remun quickly reigned himself back in and resumed staring at the wall opposite from him. He had other things to think about other than his roommate’s lean body. “It seems like a senior officer, or someone else with access to the station’s override codes performed this communication lockdown. This indicates an internal security breach.” Remun wasn’t one to get suspicious easily. However, he knew that Torre’vnau was. Remun knew that with his half-Romulan background, Torre’vnau would be the perfect person to ask about suspicion. “I can not help but try to formulate a theory as to which of the officers betrayed their position.” He (illogically) refused to believe that it could have been Dzharok. The Android wouldn’t. Right? What about Dagis? It was the only other senior officer that Remun had met in person, and she was his direct superior. She had seemed very reasonable. By Surak, Remun had shown his security algorithm to her! But what if… Oh, Remun wasn’t good at being suspicious. It wasn’t his job. He wasn’t in Security.

For some reason having the other's eyes on him was making him feel things. Whoever this changeling was-- or android imposter, they were doing a damn good job at recreating the Vulcan Way of Judgement™️ he associated with his roommate. And in response Renakir stared right back at those beautiful cognac eyes, the same eyes that had kept him sane when he was having his crisis. Remun was explaining his situation during the comms lockdown, but for some reason it just sounded like static to him. Was he forgetting his own language or was Remun just getting worse at Rihannsu? It must have been the former, because all this Romulan-Reman boy could focus on was how the lights reflected off of the younger man's skin, creating a shimmering effect that made it appear as if he had the whole galaxy on his face. His beautifully freckled green skin, the curve of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke Renakir's native Rihannsu. The word betrayed was what brought Renakir back to reality. He shook his head and turned away from Remun in an attempt to pull his mind back into reality. This was a serious matter that not only affected his roommate, but everyone on the station. He honestly hadn't been listening for the past few minutes of their conversation, his mind too focused on how beautiful the man sitting in front of him was. "Senior officer-- uh, Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok comes to mind, he's an android and.. Looks Romulan-- I mean Vulcan," He said the first name that came to mind. The name at the top of the roster of engineering. He only remembered because under 'species' it said 'android' and naturally the Romulan in him thought to be suspicious of AI's. Renakir's voice was wavering and his thoughts scattered. Not atypical for the Romulan-Reman, but it seemed out of place in this situation. He was supposedly the expert at finding imposters between the two of them.

Remun nodded slowly, still refusing to look at the other man. The gears inside of his Vulcan-raised mind were spinning quickly, trying to create some sort of pattern. Who would have a reason to sabotage the station. As much as Remun disliked the thought, he found that Torre’vnau’s logic was sound. “I see your point,” said Remun logically, “However, in my own personal experience I have not found the Lieutenant Commander Dzharok in any was suspicious. If anything, he is a man of logic and what logical reason would there be to sabotage the communications channels?” He shook his head. It almost looked irritated, like he was trying to shake away his thoughts. “I… am not suitable for making assumptions like this. It is not my position. I am sure Security is looking into this.” If Torre’vnau paid close attention, he could have seen the way Remun’s jaw clenched as the Orion boy thoughtfully looked down at his own hands. Why hadn’t he been able to prevent this? It was an illogical question to ask, it was no use dwelling on it, he couldn’t have known… Except maybe he could have known. And that thought didn’t let go of his brain. It clung to his mind like a drowning man to a piece of wood. A million ‘what if’s were floating in his head — and intermingled with that were the thoughts of just how useless he was. What good was an ops officer working on a security program while there was a literal security breach going on right under his nose?!

Renakir turned to look at Remun when he responded to his logic. Honestly, he expected the Vulcan-raised Orion boy to be on the android's side. After all him and the commander were both kinda-sorta-Vulcan. Yeah, they were in kahoots, he made a mental note of his roommate siding with the AI. "I wouldn't be so sure," A healthy dose of Romulan paranoia was evident in his speech, constracting with the Orion's flat monotone. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling. It was hard to think, perhaps it was time to take his weekly sleep. He was about to say something else about the events of that day when he noticed his roommate was still not looking at him. Sure. Remun averted his eyes from Renakir all the time, he knew how much his Orion roommate detested seeing him walk around ass out in their quarters, but this was different. Renakir took a step towards the sofa, bending his knees so he could get a better look at the other's face. He knew that look-- looking down at his hands, jaw clenched. "You... You're not blaming yourself for this, are you?" The Romulan-Reman boy spoke softly, in a tone not too disslimilar to how Remun had spoke to him earlier. The feeling of 'it's all my fault' and 'if I hadn't...' was all too familiar for him. In fact he still felt responsible for what had unfolded with his father, Valleka, his uncle. "Takov?" The word seemed to roll off his tongue as he knelt down to look at Remun who was still avoiding his eyes. Renakir's eyes were still hidden behind his sunglasses, but his emotions were on full display with the slight frown on his face and the way he furrowed his brows.

’You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?’ It startled Remun how Torre’vnau could possibly know exactly what was going on in his head. How? Had his Vulcan facade become so thin? Perhaps all those illogical officers around him were rubbing off on him. Perhaps Torre’vnau was rubbing off on him with all of his mental breakdowns and illogical suspicion and— “I…” Remun was going to say ‘I am not.’ He was going to deny. He was going to say that it was illogical to blame himself in this situation. Which was totally true by the way! However, he didn’t say any of those things. And the reason for his silence was one stupid word. ‘Takov’. It was an illogical, unnecessary nickname. However, it was a Vulcan word. And hearing Torre’vnau speak in Remun’s native language…. It nearly broke the Orion. Vulcan. He was supposed to be Vulcan. He was supposed to be efficient, cold, perfect. Remun stared down at his freckled, green hands. Hands that would never be Vulcan, no matter what. His face was vacant of any expression as he said, “I fail to see how I could not.” He was speaking Vulcan now, since the UT would pick up on it anyways, and he somehow felt to tired to bother with Rihannsu. His voice was still somehow empty — but not Remun’s usual type of emptiness. It felt more like some kind of resignation. “I have spent weeks working on security programs, working with the network of this station. Senior officers Dzharok and Dagis have seen my work.” His head was adding things like ‘what if I helped our attackers? What if I’m at fault here? What if I’m guilty? I wasn’t perfect enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t smart enough…’ He didn’t say all that. By Surak, he couldn’t even manage to look at Torre’vnau. Familiar shame and anger was bubbling in his chest and he tried to lock it away in that little cage of Surak, somewhere in the back of his mind. (edited)

Did he get it right? Renakir blinked his tiny little Reman eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses. He wasn't sure if Romulans or Remans were telepathic, but he considered himself good at reading people-- or well spinning some wild theories about why people acted th way they did. The hesitation in the other's voice was all he needed to confirm that he had indeed hit the nail on the head. The Orion had started speaking but then he stopped? Renakir found himself looking down at Remun's hands as well, but for a different reason. The man's fingers were beautiful, just like how he remembered them before when they were picking up shards of broken pottery. The creases along his knuckles, the freckles that covered the backs of his hands. He wondered how soft the boy's palms were-- no. Too scandalous, Renakir suddenly turned his head away and plopped his little grey butt on the floor. It was uncomfortable leaning forward so much and he wanted to focus on what his roommate was trying to tell him. And he waited. The next words out of Remun's mouth were not Rihannsu, but Vulcan, grabbing the Romulan-Reman's attention once more. "That's understandable," He replied, trying to match the other's cadence as he stumbled over the unfamiliar words on his lips. Renakir had improved, but Vulcan was still a very foreign tongue to him. Remun spoke such fluent Rihannsu, he almost felt like he was insulting the other's intelligence by even attempting to speak his tongue with the same fluency.

14:32

"But you didn't know. You did your duty perfectly," He took a deep breath and sighed, hugging his knees to his chest now. "You may have very well assisted in what happened indirectly, but so has everyone else by that logic, wouldn't you think?" Renakir wished Remun would just look at him. He was staring hard, as if silently begging the younger to do so. "I was the one who fixed the turbolifts the other day, otherwise they would still be down. Am I an accomplice too? Because my work enabled the saboteur a way to get around the station?" He paused for a moment, letting out another sigh. "Romulans say evil finds a way. Whoever did this was resourceful and I doubt they would hve allowed your programme to stand in their way even if they had never seen it before. It is clear that whoever did this was doing this to succeed. If anything, your programme gave them an extra hurdle to jump over," He was impressed with himself when he finished giving his thoughts, he didn't realise he could speak Vulcan so well. More like stumbling with occassional fluency, but an attempt was made.

Remun listened to his words. His native language sounded battered, coming from Torre’vnau. But it also sounded somehow softer. As if the half-Reman managed to take the edge from the harsh sound of Vulcan. And then Remun said nothing for a long moment. He turned it all over in his head. And then he turned it over again. Perfectly. He doubted that he had worked perfectly. But maybe Torre’vnau was right. Maybe this wasn’t all Remun’s fault, maybe it was something he couldn’t have known, a mistake that he couldn’t have prevented and therefore it was only logical to let go of it. Finally, finally, Remun raised his head to look at his roommate, sitting on the floor. His eyes found that pair of familiar sunglasses. Remun had no idea what to say. Maybe the expression in his eyes gave that much away, even with his face all expressionless. Thank you? I wish I could believe that? I feel like a failure? I was trying so hard? I always try too hard and yet these things happen — but I’m not supposed to complain. It’s illogical. Feeling bad for myself is illogical. He didn’t say any of these things, because he simply didn’t know how to put them into words. Looking at Torre’vnau sitting on the ground made memories flood his brain. He thought of the way Torre’vnau had cried. The way he had sat there, completely scattered and shattered, and Remun remembered the tug on his heart, the sheer intimacy… “I have not slept in 48 hours,” Remun whispered finally. It was the only thing he could think of saying. It was an admission, plain and simple. He hadn’t told anyone about it. Until now. He had hidden his exhaustion successfully. He’d covered up the dark green circled under his eyes with green paint, and he had pulled himself together. Nobody had noticed. And now, he was telling Torre’vnau. Of all people. (edited)

The silence that was typical between Vulcanoids felt louder than the rick roll that happened not too long ago. He was going to be persistent though and did not take his eyes off Remun. Maybe this was useless-- Renakir was illogical, why would such a logical being like his roommate be swayed by someone like him? He was staring to give up, maybe his was-- Their eyes finally met, but just as always his roommate remained expressionless. No frown, no dimply smile, not even a scowl. Renakir sat up so he could sit on his knees and lean a little closer to Remun, he wanted to see what the other was thinking, stare him down until his Reman telepathy kicked in. Was this confusion? Fear? Uneasiness? The Orion's eyes were vacant, but not the same type of vacant that Renakir had come to expect. It almost felt like looking in the mirror, he saw the same eyes staring at himself when he tried to Surak his feelings away in the holodeck. "Takov," Not that was on Vulcan word he knew he pronounced right. The whiper of the other's voice sent a small shiver down his spine. Remun was simply stating a fact, but why was it doing things to his mind. It was hot, but he saw goosebumps appearing on his arms. "You should get some rest. Please for... For your well being and for-- for me. Because if you're too sleepy you can't scold me for leaving crumbs everywhere," *He said, trying to lighten the otherwise depressing mood.

Remun’s eyes flickered between the reflective surfaces of Torre’vnau’s sunglasses. Some illogical wish wanted to see Torre’vnau’s eyes for once, not just those stupid glasses. He blamed that in the sleep-deprivation. “I can… I do not seem to be able to,” said Remun very quietly. For the first time, some emotion seeped into his tone. It sounded slightly panicked, maybe it was fear. “Logically, I know that staying awake for hours on end is inefficient,” he continued and he was trying so fucking hard to keep his voice steady. “But my mind is… uneasy, whenever I lay myself down to rest. It seems impossible for me to stop being active. Whether it is work, training or music, I have to busy myself, or else…” Or else he felt useless. Inefficient. “I can not seem to find any rest or peace of mind. Not even in meditation, though it helps with the feeling of exhaustion...” He let out a small breath, a bit of a sigh, and he curled his hands into a ball in his lap. “This is unprofessional and inefficient,” he said, his tone returning back to harsh stoicism, and he stood up. “I will not further take up your time with problems that are my own to solve.” He made a move towards the doors of his quarters, past his roommate.

The sound of the slight panic in his roommate's voice made his floppy ears twitch and his breath hitch. The Romulan-Reman winced at the words 'inefficient' and 'uneasy'. Those beautiful cognac eyes of his were starting to reveal their secrets, little by little. His Romulan senses were strong, but he wasn't celebrating. No, this feeling was bittersweet. All this time he just wanted to get a couple of smiles and emotional reactions from his otherwise stoic roommate, but not like this. He never wished to see the Orion boy contemplating the justification for his entire existence. Remun's eyes may have given him some hints, but his voice was as cold as ice. Renakir paid attention to every syllable, not just because he was still a beginner of Vulcan, but because Remun's words were for the first time-- from his heart. Their second intimate moment now. He took a deep breath and looked at his roommate as he bared his truth. The illogical and ugly truth which laid deep under the teachings of Surak. "N-No it's not, Remun," Renakir stood up when Remun did as if he were going to follow him. "I want to--" Renakir sprinted to Remun's door, but only stood beside it. He would let his roommate leave if he wanted to. "Takov.. e'lev," He wasn't sure why, but the Romulan word for darling slipped past his lips before his mind could even process what he just did. "It's not illogical. I understand how you feel-- I mean, you saw how I was. And you helped me. Wouldn't it be logical to tackle this problem together too? It is illogical to always solve problems alone."

15:38

And just then Renakir got a comm message-- it was from someone he had never met before. 'Emergency beam out, CEO', Renakir looked at Remun once and then at his work station. "takov, get some rest, I'm sorry," He switched back to his native Rihannsu and sprinted to his work station located on his side of the common room. He booted up the computer and planted his booty shorts ass in the chair.

Remun stood by his door, and listened to Torre’vnau’s words. Unfortunately (or maybe it was for the better), he did not have time to consider Torre’vnau’s words. Quite apparently, his roommate was offering him a chance to… talk. Talk about his troubles in the same way that Torre’vnau had talked about his own. Whether Remun would have accepted this offer or not, nobody would ever know. The comm message interrupted the moment before he could do anything. When Torre’vnau rushed to his work station, Remun reached for his door with a clenched jaw. He closed the door behind him and looked at his bed, disdain in his eyes. Torre’vnau was here doing work, beaming people from A to B, being fucking efficient and what was Remun doing? He was supposed to sleep?! To lie unconscious for hours and do nothing?! He’d always hated the fact that he needed more sleep than Vulcanoids. He’d tried to adapt his whole life. In the pits of his stomach, something violently primitive wanted to scream. He wanted to tear this room apart with his useless green hands, but he knew that he wouldn’t even have the strength. Unlike real Vulcans, he wasn’t physically stronger than humans. He sat down on his bed, cross-legged. He closed his eyes with a bitter taste on his tongue, and he tried to meditate. After roughly twenty minutes, Remun drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He dreamt of nighttime on Vulcan; the desert going ice cold, just like Torre’vnau’s room…

So the Chief engineer wasn't behind this, he thought. If Alizati was going to sickbay from his office-- it didn't take too long for this Romulan-Reman boy to put two and two together. There was a set up on the station. Somewhere. He wasn't sure who or why, but his first instinct was to tell his roommate who had already disappeared into his room. Again. After beaming the officer out, Renakir stood back up and stared at the door opposite to his. He hoped Remun was sleeping, or meditating. The lonely transporter operator sighed and retreated to his own bedroom. Back in the cool darkness of his private quarters, Renakir reached for one of his lanterns and turned it on and set it in the middle of his floor. Maybe it really was a myth that Romulans were telepathic, but he was also Reman and they were a very spiritual people. He sat cross legged on his floor with his palms together. He began to speak softly, his prayers and meditation. He hoped the energy he created from this action would help soothe Remun and help him sleep.

After his meditation, he stood up and grabbed his PADD to send a letter to his father, he had given up trying to contact him at this point. Perhaps he was just sleepy or maybe he was secretly mad that his own father didn't see to want to give him the time of day. He knew it was just bad timing, he had a loving family on Mol'Rihan, but the Reman in him was telling him this was planned. He couldn't trust any Romulans, especially not his father. Cerrub Torre'vnau. The murderer, the father, the diplomat. He killed his promised mate in cold blood on their wedding night just to gain absolute control of the Torre'vnau house. Not even a decade later the same murderer is at home brushing his son's teeth every morning and night for four years. Because Renakir was scared he'd cut his fingers. Embarrassing, but it was how he asked for attention. Cerrub the family man, brushing his sons teeth and tying his shoes right before sending his son to literally fight for his life every day at school against the 'good' Romulan children. Renakir always struggled with how one man could have so many dimensions. But maybe that was what it meant to be Romulan. To have different masks, to be able to kill but also to value life. He furrowed his brows as he tapped away a letter on his PADD. What made him the most scared was not who his father really was, it was the fact that he had that man's blood running through his veins. Oh how he wished his mother was here to help him figure out the enigma which was Cerrub. Perhaps he should meet with Tiravurik after all, he thought. *Click, send letter.*

[PADD] To: Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T'Lauk @Deleted User From: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok

Hello, I was wondering if you would be free for a game of Kal-Toh? I have my board with me. I am sorry for the short notice.

Remun was half-sitting on his bed, slumped against the wall with his back. He was asleep, but despite his extreme exhaustion, he wasn’t sleeping very deeply. Strange dreams kept him awake. Vulcans didn’t dream. It was one of those imperfections of Remun’s that he wasn’t able to get rid off. He never managed to meditate his dreams away. He was standing in Vulcan’s desert, but everything was upside down, and people were floating around unconscious and there were cats for some reason— when suddenly the soft pling of his PADD ripped him out of his sleep. The Orion blinked slowly, sat up with a soft groan and then reached for his PADD. Upon reading the message, he immediately thought that it would be wise to try to get some sleep instead of playing Kal-Toh with the Lieutenant Commander. Also, it was still unbeknownst to Remun whether Dzharok could have been the one to attack the comms line… Immediately, Remun was wide awake, mind working. What if the Lieutenant Commander had attacked the comms line? Then why was he asking to play Kal-Toh now? Was that some kind of trick? Or was Torre’vnau’s silly, suspicious nature simply rubbing off on Remun??? The green boy shook his head, trying to clear it. Surely, if he wanted to find out what Dzharok had done during the comms lockdown, it would only be wise to talk to him. Despite his lack of sleep (or maybe because of it), Remun found it to be a logical choice. [PADD] To: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok From: Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T’Lauk

I am available for a game in my quarters. Do not concern yourself with the short notice.

[D] And show up he did, merely ten minutes after that communication, the chief engineer was standing at the doorway to Remun and Renakir's shared quarters. Unfortunately for everyone reading this post, his fit was just his uniform. Standard, no embellishments or accents. His ash blue hair was pushed to one side, showing off his perfectly trimmed Vulcan brows. It wasn't like he had to do much maintenance, his hair did not grow. He chimed the buzzer and awaited a response, Kal-toh board in hand.

Remun had actually taken the time to fix his hair into his usual, perfectly parted in the middle hairdo and he was also dressed in his uniform (sorry, fam). Surprisingly enough, he did not look like he hadn’t slept in two days and was on the brink of passing out! As he opened the door, he looked perfectly sorted out, and with a bland expression on his green face. “Lieutenant Commander, please come in.” Remun gestured at the common room couch. The temperature in the room was set to 20 C and the lights were at 60%, now that Torre’vnau wasn’t here to sweat his pretty little butt off.

Alizati waited at the door, posture straight, expression neutral. When the doors opened he was greeted with a familiar Vulcan monotone and an equally emotionless face. A simple nod was all he needed to reply with before stepping into the room. The room looked almost identical to his, although unlike his quarters Remun had a roommate. He may have not known much about Remun's roommate, but what he did know was all of the environmental control logs from the two of them. He was curious about that and perhaps their game would allow him to ask. Alizati sat on the couch and placed the Kal-toh board on the coffee table between the two seats. "I appreciate you being able to meet with me. I take it you are alright after the comms lockdown?" He looked at the Orion boy, noting the boy's picture perfect appearance. Hair neatly combed, clothes smooth. He was none the wiser to the boy's internal struggles.

Remun moved to sit down opposite from the Android. He was surprised to find that the man was the first one to bring up the comms lockdown. In Remun’s eyes, that made him less suspicious. He sat with his posture all perfect and angular and he fixed the man with his light brown eyes briefly, before he said, “Indeed. I aided an Ensign in his endeavours to bring the communication lines back online during the incident. And yourself, Lieutenant Commander?” That was the question of all questions! It was also the one thing distracting Remun from his own self-doubt and self-depreciation.

He didn't say it, but one of the reason for visiting Remun was to catch a break from the crowds around the station. Alizati was also not ready to go back to his own quarters, for some reason he felt restless after the comms breach. Restless, an android, but he needed to keep moving that was for sure. He studied the other's expressionless face as the other answered. So this confirmed that Remun was helping with the comms at the time, he wondered if the other was suspicious of him? Of course when anything involving hackers happened, the android was the first one to accuse. But Remun was Vulcan and 'jumping to conclusions' was not logical at all. Still, he believed he made the right decision to bring up this topi first. "That is admirable, Lieutenant." Alizati responded, the same Vulcan monotone as always. "I was in my office at the time," He began to speak, pausing as he tried to decide how much information to give. Remun knew he was an android, but Alizati was still hesitant with coming forward with the details. "I was attacked and left unresponsive. Needless to say I do not have much recollection of the event after that," Alizati grabbed a couple metal rods and placed them in front of Remun. "You may have the honours of going first."

Remun noted the data in his brain. There was no logical reason for him not to believe Dzharok, and so he nodded. “Who attacked you?”, asked the Orion while he leant forwards a little, considering his first move. Had he been more sociable, he would have asked the Lt. Commander whether he was doing okay now, after being attacked. But he wasn’t very sociable as we all know, and it was also illogical to believe that the android would come and play a game with him if he were physically injured. Remun made the first move on the board, and then his eyes returned to the other man’s.

"A civilian reporter by the name of Michael Crespo. I am unsure of his motives, but it was clear he had access to classified information as he knew just how to disable me," Alizati's voice became low at the last part of his sentence, almost to a whisper. He wasn't sure if Remun's roommate was around, but if there was one thing he knew it was that Romulans were skeptical of AI's. He watched as Remun placed the stick onto the board, the sphere changing shape as the piece clicked into place. A good opening move, he thought. It was much easier to concentrate when he didn't need to worry about blinking or breathing. "If you have any information on Michael Crespo it would be most helpful," He added, his expression blank as he stared at the board. There was a soft click as he tapped the tiny rod on the table, preparing for his next move. His reflective eyes looked like glass under the lights of Remun's quarters. Despite being an android his moves were slow, calculated, and there was no sign of rushing. The joy of Kal-toh was not who won or how fast one moved, but of the satisfaction one got by placing their piece and testing their logic. He delicately laid the rod onto the sphere, a good response to Remun's move. He looked towards the Orion for his reply.

“I have not met said Micheal Crespo, nor was I aware of his presence on the station,” replied Remun. “I can not make any statement on the matter.” If he were less Vulcan, he would have added ‘regretfully’ or ‘unfortunately’. But he wasn’t and he left it at that. As the sphere of the game changed, he blinked down at the board. Kal-Toh was one of the games he really enjoyed. It had to do with order, with structure — both of which things that Remun knew all too well. He thought about his next move for a moment, and then put down his rod as well. Not the most complex of moves on his side, but sufficient. “I have not played Kal-toh in a considerable amount of time,” he noted with a small nod towards the android, “Thank you for the opportunity.” All of his suspicion had fallen off now. This guy was too logical to commit a crime, at least in Remun’s eyes. He was too calculated, and the way he spoke about his deactivation sounded sincere. Not that Remun was good at reading people — he wasn’t. — but he wasn’t too bad at reading Vulcans.

"I see," Was all his response to Remun's reply about Crespo. It seemed like no one on the station had really met the man, save for the few members of medical who had the honour of being mentioned in his article. He watched closely as Remun made his move, another good move from the Orion. This one made the android pause for a moment, the shaking of his eyes getting just a little faster as his mind was occupied with studying the sphere. Alizati enjoyed Kal-toh, just like Dzharok. It was one of the few things he had in common with the man he was modelled after. Thankfully he did not inherit Dzharok's skills or lack thereof. A game of logic was definitely easier to play when one was an android, the epitome of logic. "It is not every day that I find another who is willing to play with me," Alizati admitted, revealing how few friends he actually had. It was not much of a surprise though, vulcans typically enjoyed working alone. The android picked up one of the rods in his pile and delicately placed it on the bottom of the sphere. Another good move, but when the sphere changed he realised it may have not been the most optimal. "I designed a Kal-toh programme to play with me, but it's still not perfect," He stated, his voice still calm and monotone as he spoke about his monstrosity he called Bir, Ikki, and Yuch.

Remun’s cognac eyes followed the movements of Dzharok’s hands and then the changing sphere. The Lieutenant Commander’s move had been plausible, but not perfect. However, it didn’t matter much to Remun. He took no pleasure in the victory or loss of the game; he was only concerned with creating a perfectly symmetrical structure in the very end. And so, he placed his next rod symmetrical to Dzharok’s. “A programme?”, he asked, raising his head to look at the other. “I would be interested in seeing it.” Little did he know what ‘it’ really was. “You are of course aware that my professional work includes grand amounts of programming, perhaps I could assist in perfecting the algorithms of your Kal-toh programme.” He studied the android’s face, taking note of that slight shake in his artificial eyes. The tremor was strangely intriguing and Remun wondered whether it was a bug or some kind of fault in the android’s programming. If yes, why hadn’t the Lt. Commander fixed it yet? This led Remun’s thoughts to spiral to himself. He wondered what it would be like to exist as a machine. To be able to ‘fix’ any faults in your own programming. He would be able to get rid of those freckles, for example. Or maybe even the emotions in his eyes that he couldn’t seem to hide, even with his face all frozen and cold… (edited)

Alizati's eyes were fixed on the sphere as it changed shape. The android's dark eyes met the Orion's cognac ones for a split second before Alizati shut his eyes. The shaking wasn't painful, but it felt like his body was going through too many processes at once. Strange because he had never had a problem in the past. He opened his eyes again and looked towards his opponent. "I am aware," He replied plainly. He read Remun's whole file, but he didn't expect the other would actually want to assist him. Perhaps he could introduce the Orion to his three headed hydra furby. One day. He blinked a couple times before picking up a stick to contemplate his next move. "If my programme was half as good as you at Kal-toh I would consider it a success," He said as he placed his piece on the right side of the structure. Alizati's eyes were jet black, even with the lights in the room. Cobalt hair with a light golden skin tone, he made a very convincing organic Vulcan. The way he narrowed his eyes when focused, the slow and calculated movements of his hands and fingers. He wondered what it was like to think, not calculate, but to actually have organic thoughts. What was Remun thinking? How was he calculating his moves? Was it difficult with an organic brain?

“I appreciate the compliment,” said Remun, his tone consistently vacant. Had Remun cared about such things, he would have certainly noticed how aesthetically pleasing the Android really was. However, he did not notice such things. They were an illogical topic to think about and his mind dismissed such things as irrelevant. He looked back down at the sphere and thought about his next move. “Both of my parents are excellent Kal-toh players,” he said simply. He didn’t really know why he was keeping the conversation alive, but he simple felt like it. Perhaps it was the sleepiness getting to his brain. He thought about how his parents had played Kal-toh. They had played relentlessly, never showing any mercy to the young Orion boy. They would analyze any and every move of his, tell him all about his imperfections, his room for improvement. Remun found that he enjoyed playing with the Lieutenant Commander much more than he had enjoyed playing with his parents back in the day. “May I pose a question, Lieutenant Commander?”

As the sphere changed once again, Alizati was already predicting the Orion's next move and planning accordingly. Another good thing about being an android was his ability to adapt quickly with changing environments and/or conditions. It was also not unpleasant to speak with the younger man, in fact he felt at home with another Vulcan-minded person. That and also the fact that he hypothesised the two of them had similar experiences as children (well Alizati never had a childhood, but Dzharok did), trying to fit in with the other Vulcan children. So Remun played Kal-toh with his parents, not surprising considering his demeanour pointed to a completely Vulcan upbringing, not a mixed one. Alizati raised an eyebrow when the other spoke again. "Yes, you may," He responded, a tone similar to Remun's. He was secretly hoping for no android questions.

Remun placed his rod into the ever-changing sphere carefully with delicate green fingers. Unfortunately for Alizati Dzharok, he did have an Android-related question. After placing his rod, he looked back up at the other man and he spoke, “Last time we conversed, you expressed that you had experienced bias regarding your nature. I responded that I was positive that you would find unbiased people on this posting. I would like to know whether I was correct in my assumptions.” In other words, he would like to know whether anyone had been rude to the Lieutenant Commander because of him being an Android. Maybe Remun did feel a slight bit of empathy, and maybe even protectiveness. The two of them both seemed to be trying to fit into a culture that wasn’t completely inclusive towards them. And the two of them both seemed to have their imperfections which they would (illogically) rather forget about. It was only logical that Remun, the perfectionist Vulcan-raised Orion programmer, would feel some kind of affection for Alizati, the Vulcan-raised Android engineer.

An android question, but a thoughtful one, Alizati listened closely as the other spoke. If the two of them weren't so try-hard Vulcan, perhaps he would have even guessed that the other cared about his well-being. Their friendship (or whatever Vulcans considered those whom they did not mind fraternising with, was a logical one. His eyed studied the sphere as it began to morph in accordance to the younger man's move. "So far, I have not," Without missing a beat he answered. Too bad for this unknowing Vulcan android that would soon change. He picked up one of the slim pieces of metal and leaned forward, seemingly deep in thought about his next move. Kal-toh was a slow game that could take hours, days, or even weeks for players to make their next move. Ironically he enjoyed the slow paced life, it was what he was used to on his family's farm.

There was a moment of silence before a familiar whoosh of doors opening filled the room and a familiar grey face poked out into the common area. It was the local paranoid Romulan-Reman boy who had seemingly just woken up from quite a slumber. His sunglasses were crooked on his face and his hair was a mess. He was dressed in only his underwear, but thankfully he had a large blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His body was only for Remun's eyes. "Takov?" *He said dryly, looking towards Remun and then at the engineer. His eyes were hidden, but there was a clear look of worry on his face as his eyes darted from Remun to the android. Renakir was not opposed to Remun having house guests, in fact he welcomed it. The boy needed friends, but he did have a problem with an android being in his space.

Remun barely had enough time to enjoy the fact that Alizati hadn’t been disrespected yet. At the sound of the doors, Remun looked up. His eyes found Torre’vnau’s familiar sunglasses and that grey-greenish face hovering in the doorway. Torre’vnau looked a bit sleepy. Remun totally wasn’t jealous of the fact that Torre’vnau was able to just… sleep. Without troubles. As he heard the word ‘Takov’, his eyes immediately hardened very slightly. That is, they became even colder and expressionless than they had been before. The Lieutenant Commander spoke Vulcan, he would know this word. He would… assume things. By Surak, why did his roommate have to be so fucking illogical?! “Lieutenant Junior Grade Torre’vnau,” he said coolly. Social norms compelled him to go on and say, “This is Lieutenant Commander Dzharok.” He looked at the android again, pulling his eyes away from the half-Reman who took up so much of his nerves and energy and concentration on a daily basis. “This is my roommate. He enjoyed illogical nicknames.” (edited)

Alizati did not react to the unexpected guest, but he did notice the nickname. Was it typical to address your roommate with such a term? Remun's explanation provided some context, but there was still many questions the android had about the relationship between the two men before him. He placed the rod in his hands delicately at the top of the structure and took a slow breath. He was well aware how Romulans viewed androids and hoped that resuming organic functions would avoid possible conflicts. "I see. Yes, thank you for beaming me out of my office earlier. I appreciate it," He spoke in Rihannsu to the Romulan-Reman, his rather quirky dialect coming through. Alizati looked at the grey boy, no expression on his face. He straightened his posture and looked at Remun as if there was nothing wrong with this scene at all.

There was a million things Renakir wanted to say, but Alizati was still a superior officer. He squinted as he looked at the android from a distance. Oddly enough Renakir did not step into the common area, instead he stayed standing at his doorway. A noticeable look of shock crossed Renakir's face when the engineer thanked him. It wasn't so much that an android was talking to him, it was that he didn't understand a word he said. Weren't androids supposed to be prefect, he thought. Perfect as in, speak every language textbook perfect? The Romulan-Reman looked to his roommate as if to ask him to translate because he had no idea what Alizati had just said. "... Takov, how long are you guys going to be playing? I need to finish my nap before my shift." He decided to completely ignore the engineer and just look at Remun. Maybe if he kept calling his roommate by that nickname it would make Alizati feel uncomfortable and scare him away, yes make him feel like he's 3rd wheeling and he'll leave. Good plan.

Remun currently had two things to be judgmental about (his hobby): Firstly, Dzharok’s horrible Rihannsu. He found it illogical to speak in a language one did not really know how to speak. It would only lead to misunderstandings that could have been logically avoided by simply relying on the UT. Secondly, the way Torre’vnau didn’t even acknowledge the Android. It was illogical to address only Remun when clearly both of the, were involved in this game. Generally speaking, that Romulan suspicion against the Android was ticking Remun off for some unfathomable reason. And so, he raised the Vulcan Eyebrow of Judgement™️ and he answered plainly, “Kal-toh is a game that can stretch over a considerable amount of time, from one hour to up to several days. However, if mine and the Lieutenant Commander’s conversation is disturbing your sleep, we are able to move this conversation to my private quarters.” His tone was neutral, there was just the slightest hint of accusation in his eyes.

"I would be fine with that, but could you come and look at something real fast for me? The monitor in my room is having an issue," Renakir sounded honest and sincere with his words, but he was a careful liar and well-- he was Romulan and Reman, a mixture of two of the most distrustful races in the galaxy. He still stayed at his doorway, leaning against the side all wrapped up in his blanket. It was hotter than the sun in the common area, but he would not be exposing his body to some android. Who knows what sort of information he would be inadvertedly giving him. On top of that, the android and him were mutually unintelligable. He sounded like he was speaking Rihannsu, but Renakir couldn't make heads or tails out of it. It was making him nervous. What did this android know? What was the real purpose of him coming to their quarters? He needed alone time with Remun to ask.

Alizati blinked a few times, a bit taken aback that Remun's roommate would blatantly ignore him. He knew Romulans were distrustful of AI's, but did not expect his gratitude to be met with silence. He did not say anything though, whatever Remun's roommate had against him, it was one-sided. Alizati felt nothing towards the Romulan-Reman boy.

Remun considered it, and finally nodded. He was well aware that Alizati could certainly repair any tech problems faster than Remun could. He was also aware that Torre’vnau was extremely suspicious of the Android. And additionally he was aware that Torre’vnau knew just how tired Remun really was; how sleep deprived. He didn’t want that information to wander from Torre’vnau not a superior officer such as Dzharok. He stood up and looked at the Lieutenant Commander. “Excuse me. It is only logical to repair the monitor and it should only take a moment,” he said. He made his move, putting a rod onto the board, so that at least Alizati could think about the game while Remun was gone. Then, he went over to Torre’vnau, standing in front of the door, keeping a considerable distance. “I shall take a look at it,” he said to his roommate, mentally preparing himself for the fridge that was Torre’vnau’s room.

He decided to focus on the Kal-toh board when Remun placed his piece on the sphere. It was better than mulling over what could be going on between the pair, it was illogical. Plus the Orion's interpersonal relations were none of his business. If anything, this sudden break from their conversation would give Alizati more time to ponder his next move and that is exactly what he did.

It worked, Renakir thought as he stepped back so Remun could enter his room. "Computer, lights 10%, temperature 15 C," He said as he fixed his sunglasses properly on his face and tossed his blanket on his chair. He waited until the doors had closed behind them to speak. "Remun, that android is a phony," He stood in front of his monitor with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Now that Alizati was out of earshot he could speak his mind. He was not going to be mean to the engineer's face, but he had to warn his roommate.

Remun was not displeased by his roommate changing the temperature, but his brain completely malfunctioned in the very next moment. ‘That android is a phony.’ A fake. Torre’vnau was calling the Lt. Commander a fake, a fraud, someone not sincere. First of all, way to be a hypocrite! If anyone was prone to lying, it was the Romulan-Reman and not the Lieutenant Commander! Second of all, the word ‘phony’ hit a little close to home. Yes, Alizati was not a real Vulcan. But neither was Remun now, was he? Did that make him ‘fake’? Remun did not display any emotion on his face, but the look that he gave Torre’vnau was sharp and cold as ice. Almost cold enough to turn the room back into a Reman fridge. “Did you lie about your monitor, only to warn me about the fact that the Lieutenant Commander might lie to me?”, he said in his usual monotone.

Renakir honestly couldn't care less if Remun believed him or not, but he did notice the Orion's cold stare. It was different than the normal judgemental stares he got from his roommate, this one was much colder. Almost in disappointment? Or was he angry? He also had a feeling Remun had caught onto his lie about his monitor, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. Unlike Vulcans, 'the ends justify the means' was an earth motto that rang true for the Romulans. He got what he wanted; to have Remun alone, it didn't matter that he used deception to get here. "Androids are never to be trusted," He shook his head as he leaned against the wall behind him. "Whst was he saying anyway? He was speaking a non-standard Rihannsu dialect, weird because aren't androids supposed to be perfect? Pfftth maybe that's why you two get along," He scoffed and sighed very loudly, not hiding his frustration at all.

Remun narrowed his eyes at his roommate, but otherwise he schooled his features into perfectly logical neutrality. Truth be told, he was disappointed by the fact that Torre’vnau would lie to him. He could have just asked to speak to him in private, that would have been fine and much more logical! He exhaled to steady himself and to push his irritation away. “He thanked you for transporting him out of his officer after a civilian reporter had disabled him,” he stated plainly, careful not to let any emotion ring through. “I indeed find the Lieutenant Commander to be an agreeable and trustworthy companion, often much more so than yourself, Torre’vnau. The Lieutenant Commander and I share the same cultural background and similar interests. Associating with him in my free time is logical, not to mention that it is none of your concern. Now, I will leave, since your monitor does not seem to be faulty.” With that, he turned around to leave again, already walking towards the door. In the back of his mind, he thought about how he was way too exhausted to be dealing with this right now.

Not only was Remun hanging out with that very suspicious android but he liked him more? Had Renakir realised he was attracted to Remun maybe he would have said something, but no he was out here thinking he was just angry that there was an android so close to him. He was used to his roommate's monotone and had a very strong feeling that no matter what he said Remun would not be kicking the android out any time soon. Before he could open his mouth, Remun was already walking out the door. What a prick!! It wasn't worth making a scene though, as much as he hated it, Alizati was a superior officer and Romulan paranoia was not grounds to ask him to leave. Still, he would be watching. "Computer, lights off, -30 C."

Alizati had remained in the common room sitting on the sofa. He was still debating his next move as evident by the rod in one hand and his other on his knee. Once he heard the doors to Torre'vnau's room open, he turned his head. "Is everything alright?" He asked, wondering if Remun's Romulan roommate did actually have monitor troubles. He was not one to jump to conclusions or get hung up on stereotypes, but there was a part of him that was. A very small part of him that he was still unaware existed.

“Yes,” replied Remun simply and walked over to the couches again. “The monitor is working.” Well. That wasn’t a lie. It was just that the monitor wasn’t working because of Remun. Remun didn’t want to let the Lieutenant Commander know about the real reason why Torre’vnau had wanted to speak to him. He found that it was illogical to burden the other with the knowledge that Torre’vnau had lied. After all, that lie was something between Remun and Torre’vnau. None of Alizati’s concern. “Mine and my roommate’s cultural differences can lead to disputes and misunderstandings at times,” he told the android and then he gestured to the Kal-toh board. “We might take this to my quarters so as not to disturb Torre’vnau.” And also because Remun was sick and tried of Torre’vnau trying to eavesdrop on his conversations with Alizati. However, he didn’t add that.

Thankfully they were both Vulcan and thus Alizati trusted that whatever was going on, Remun handled it logically and efficiently. He placed the small silver rod onto the sphere, this time on the side. A near perfect move, as was most of his moves, but even an android was not infallable. After all Kal-toh was not a game that really had right or wrong, it was almost like a careful dance. "I take it those cultural differences also extend to the temperature if this room?" He said, recalling the environmental logs he had seen of the pair's quarters. He asked merely out of curiousity, he wanted to know the logic behind constantly changing the temperature instead of agreeing on somewhere in the middle. As the sphere changed shape, Alizati looked back up at Remun when the other mentioned changing locations. "Perhaps we should resume this game another time instead, I would not want to intrude on your private sleeping space," He looked towards Renakir's door and then back at Remun.

“If you prefer, I am not opposed to postponing the game and continuing at a later time,” said Remun with a small nod, after watching the Android make his move on the board. It only hit him now that the engineer must know about the Cold War that he and his roommate had going on in this room. Were he not so Vulcan, he would perhaps have been embarrassed. As it was now, he simply said, “As for the temperature, your assumption is correct. Remans prefer temperatures below zero and darkness. Meanwhile, I have always been accustomed to the temperature and light on Vulcan. Torre’vnau and I have agreed on changing the temperature and light settings, depending on who is utilising the room at the time being.” He then went over to open the door for the Lieutenant Commander. “Thank you for the game. I look forward to its continuation.” He could have also added ‘and sorry for my roommate’ but such an apology would be illogical, and he was pretty sure that Alizati hadn’t taken too much offence. Besides, it wasn’t Remun’s fault that Torre’vnau couldn’t seem to respect the android.

Alizati believed himself incapable of emotions, however he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he was uncomfortable being in a place he was clearly not welcomed. He was originally hesitent to let anyone aside from Two of Thirteen visit his quarters but after that evening's events it seemed only logical to invite Remun next time. He pushed the Kal-toh board towards the Orion and stood up. "You may ponder your next move until then," He stood up and walked towards the door.* "Perhaps next time we can use my quarters instead so we don't bother your roommate," Alizati said, taking note of the Cold War in Remun's quarters. If he were human, perhaps he would feel bad that the Orion had to be stuck with such a frustrating roommate. However, he was Vulcan and only felt that moving the game to his room the next time would be logical. He would have to move Bir, Ikki, and Yuch then, or maybe Remun would want to see his Kal-toh programme? Something to ponder. Alizati bowed his head slightly and exited the room to head back to own quarters.

After seeing the Lieutenant Commander out of the room, Remun was looking forward to the next meeting. However, he found it much to his dislike that the Lieutenant Commander had apparently taken enough offence in Torre’vnau’s words to decide that he would rather not meet with Remun in these quarters again. However, such feelings of regret and anger were illogical, so he swiftly pushed them aside. He went over to the couch and sat down, eyes fixed on the Kal-toh board. Absentmindedly, he thought about their conversation and about his next move. His eyelids felt heavy, and now that he was alone, there was no point in keeping up the act. The sleep deprivation was getting to him With a small sigh, he leant back against the backrest of the couch, letting his head fall back. For a sweet moment, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the darkness. It was so soothing… It wasn’t long until Remun drifted off into a restless sleep, a small frown on his freckled face as he slept on the couch.

[PADD] From: Saren Morvar To: Renakir Torre'vnau

Met your uncle. He said hi and for you to come and meet him at Surak's. Should I be worried? He seemed kinda... tense, around me. I don't want to be a dick but I am also, unfortunately, very Romulan sometimes.

[PADD] From: Renakir Torre'vnau To: Saren Morvar

I am aware that he is on this station. There is nothing to be worried about, he is friendly but he is also an ex-Reman general so he is not great at socialising normally. Actually I think he's friendlier than me. Why was he at Surak's?

[PADD] From: Saren Morvar To: Renakir Torre'vnau

Ah. Understandable. And you're kinda being humble, Lieutenant. I hope I'm not ruining a surprise or anything - I'm pretty he's working there.

[PADD] From: Renakir Torre'vnau To: Saren Morvar

Tiravurik is illiterate. I am curious to know how he managed to get a job at a Vulcan establishment. Well, thanks for telling me. If you try some of his cooking tell me how it is, he's quite good at making Reman chilly.

After the rather interesting exchange with Saren, Renakir was preparing for his next shift. He did not expect to be busy, it was just turbolifts and transporters. He did have to pass by engineering later, something about the CEO needing some furniture. He was not going to dwell on it, he changed into his uniform and walked out to the common area. As soon as he entered the room, he was greeted with the familiar gust of warm air. At least that AI was gone, Renakir was thankful for that. He was about to open his mouth to change the temperature when he noticed his roommate was laying on the couch, eyes closed. Pretty, he thought. Before taking another step, he went back into his room and came back with his blanket and gently placed it over his sleeping Orion roommate. Careful not to make too much sounds, he walked over to the side panel to manually change the temperature. Zero lights, temperature -30 C. Perfect. He moved over to the replicator and spoke softly, "Romulan ale." With his ale in hand, he walked over to the workstation on his side of the room and sat down so he wouldn't risk waking Remun up by sitting on the sofa. He sipped his ale as he pulled up the Federation News on his console.

The blanket was obviously a nice gesture, as was Torre’vnau’s quiet demeanor. However, it wasn’t enough to keep Remun from waking up. He stirred as the cold air enclosed him and he muttered something unintelligible in Vulcan before slowly cracking an eye open. By Surak, he had fallen asleep in the living room. And it was ice cold. He was shivering violently. Where had that blanket come from? Ah. Torre’vnau. Of course. “You should have woken me up,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse with sleep. Then, he stood up, pulling the blanket around his shoulders. It looked kind of cute, the way he wrapped himself up. His eyes went from Torre’vnau to the unfinished game of Kal-toh on the table. He really needed to talk to his roommate about the Lieutenant Commander. However, he did not have the energy right now.

Renakir was enjoying his Romulan ale and reading the news when he heard his roommate waking up. He thought he was quiet, but clearly that wasn't enough. Were all Vulcans light sleepers? Romulans were, certainly. It was dangerous to be a deep sleeper, assassinations and all. "Jolan tru," He said absentmindedly with one arm resting on his console and the other with the ale in his hand. "Lights, 10%," He said as he placed his half full glass on the table beside him. Now that Remun was up, he had to stop drinking. After finishing up reading the informations about the Mentor Programme, he looked up to see the cutest sight! "Oh, Takov, you look kinda cute like that," He said, covering his mouth so he could chuckle. How he wish he had a holocamera right now so he could save this moment for eternity. A soft green blush crept across his cheeks., but this time, with the temperature still at -30C it was not because of it was too hot.

Remun’s sleep deprived brain didn’t wait any second coming up with a reply to that. “I disapprove of that statement,” he shot back, picking up the Kal-toh board. “It is simply too cold for my preferences.” And with that, carrying the board in hands, he headed towards the door of his quarters.

Renakir did not understand what was with that reaction, but he was not going to chase his cranky roommate. Besides, he had a shift to get to. He sighed as he watched his roommate pick up the Kal-toh board before he remembered the issue with the android from earlier. They were playing that game together, that's when he tried to warn Remun. "Just a warning. In 2368 the Romulan government made a hologram version of Ambassador Spock to try an attempt a take over of Vulcan. Romulans are distrustful of AI's but we have used them in the past," He leaned forward on his console, looking straight at Remun. "But the Tal Shiar is dead, there are other secret organisations. Enjoy your sleep, Takov."

“After receiving that information, I am doubtful that I will,” he said coolly, obviously very much cranky and taking offence in Torre’vnau’s words. He enjoyed the Lt. Commander’s company, and he was not going to get Torre’vnau’s Romulan suspicion get int the way of his first real friendship on this station. Gripping the board game a little tighter, he went through the door into his room, not sparing his roommate another glance. And with that, he was gone. Probably off to meditate, or pass out on his bed after storing away the game.

"You can keep the blanket, Takov," He said before Remun disappeared into his quarters. What a lovely 'morning', he thought. Now it was time to submit his application for the mentor programme, he wasn't quite sure what he'd get but he was looking forward to it. He was still a Lower Decker™️ technically. Just a Lieutenant Junior Grade after all. After finishing his application he drank the rest of his ale and walked over to the replicator to recycle the glass. "Computer, lights off," He said before leaving the room, off to work.

[PADD] To: Renakir of the House of Torre'vnau From: Tiravurik of the House of Torre'vnau

I am working at Surak Snacks, please come. I have a gift for you, I miss you.

[PADD] From: Saren Morvar To: Renakir Torre'vnau

Hello. Mind coming to the biolab? I have someone to show you. I think you will like them.

[PADD] To: Saren morvar From: Renakir Solait Torre'vnau

Sure, on my way!

Remun was mid-meditation when he received a comm message and was called to #deleted-channel. He quickly stood up, already dressed in his uniform, and left the quarters with his PADD under his arm. He didn’t care about the fact that he was slightly tired or about the temperature/light situation in the common area; he only wanted to get to work.

When he got back to his quarters he headed into his bedroom and flopped on the bed. Slep time.

Remun entered the quarters. Strangely enough, T’Zan’s words kept replaying inside of his head. ‘You must be a nightmare to your roommate.’ His eyes went towards Renakir’s door. Closed, of course. His roommate was probably asleep — if he was even here at all. Remun quickly shook those illogical thoughts about that illogical half-Romulan out of his head. He went to his own bedroom, changed into Vulcan robes, and sat down to meditate.

He awoke what seemed to be a week later. In reality he had only slept for 3 hours, but it felt longer. Rising from his bed, Renakir rubbed his eyes and put his feet on the ground. What time was it? He was also starving, that soup was clearly not enough for his fast Romulan/Reman metabolism. Although Romulans had similar eating habits to Vulcans, Remans ate a lot more. They were a warrior race after all, he had an appetite similar to that of Klingons. He got dressed in his uniform once again and grabbed his sunglasses. It was nice to have a proper pair of sunglasses it made functioning easier. They worked so well it almost made him forget he had any light sensitivity at all. Plus they were comfortable, it was as if he wasn't even wearing them, as if he wasn't Reman. He straightened out his shirt and buckled his belt and headed out of his room. "Computer, temperature -30 celsius," He said before walking down towards the mess hall. He was still a little drowsy and wanted to avoid any interaction with his roommate.

Renakir stepped into his quarters, delightfully surprised the temperature was still at his preferred level and the lights were still off. He took his sunglasses off and walked straight to the replicator to get some food. "Romulan ale, toasted baguette, extra long," He ordered. He unzipped his jacket and tucked his sunglasses into his pockets. Looks like he had the whole space to himself for the evening, perfect.

[D] The bell to the quarters rang, indicating the presence of a new someone. Who could be knocking on Renakir's door?

Renakir was just about to bite into his baguette when he heard the bell. Who could be visiting at this hour? It better not be that android, he thought. He put his sunglasses on, zipped his jacket and left his food and drink on the table to go see who it was. He walked up to the door and when it opened did this poor Romulan-Reman boy have the scare of his life. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, eyes wide (covered by his sunglasses, thankfully), eyebrows furrowed, and just the utter look of confusion. "... May I help you?" He spoke Standard to the stranger, French accent prominent as ever as he enunciated each word. Was this guy lost or something? He did not remember seeing a Reman on the roster. No matter, he was out here trying not to be perceived. He could handle this, certainly. This poor lad was probably just lost, all he had to do was point him in the right direction. A cool gust of wind blew from inside Renakir's quarters, the lights were off and the air was chilled.

Tulas's eyes were without sunglasses and his skin had a slight tanned tint to its grey color. He looked at the other and simple nodded, clearing his throat. He didn't really know what was going on but the cool blast of air made him feel very weird. The other's skin tint too... was he part reman? Maybe, but it would be impolite to ask. In his typical extroverted fashion, Tulas grinned toothily; rows of sharp and perhaps needle-like teeth were shown in their glory, white and expertly maintained. "Uh, sure. I was looking for... eh... uh... Avignon's quarters and you obviously aren't him. Heh. Who are you?" He asked, accent human, New York to be precise.

Yes, this boy was Reman. Pointy teeth, the ears. Renakir's first instinct was to rub the tips of his ears, a soothing action but it also hid the fact that they were slightly floppy. A Reman trait that was clear as the nights on Remus. The other spoke Standard quite well, was he raised on earth? Although he could not discern the other's hometown from his accent, it was clear they were both Reman, but he was not here to be perceived. Not by Romulans, and certainly not by Remans. "That's in section one, this is section two," Renakir kept the tips of his ears covered. He was thankful he chose to wear his hair pulled back that day, made his forehead ridges more obvious and more importantly it allowed him to look more Romulan. "I'm Solait Torre'vnau," He introduced himself when the other asked. "And you?" His voice was monotone and cold as he spoke, hoping the other would see this as a sign to just tell him his name and leave. Then Renakir could pull his file.

He seemed to drift off into a daydream land for a second, looking back at the other before long. He furrowed his brow ridge, shrugging. "Well, I'm Tulas Ervek. Graduated last year from the academy. Nice to meet you. I'll head to section two, I guess... though you do look kinda... are you pare reman?" He asked, a personal question as expected. He was curious about Renakir.

An ensign fresh out of the academy, great. But this guy didn't seem like the typical 'lower decker'. He was still too friendly for Renakir's tastes. He wondered how the Reman ensign could see without sunglasses, but the slightly tanned skin hinted that he was most likely used to the sunlight and typical M-class conditions. Interesting. For a brief second Renakir pondered if he could adapt as well? He had tried in the past, but this boy who was full Reman clearly could do it. Unless he had contacts. Maybe he had contacts. And that's when the other asked him-- Are you part Reman?.He sighed and lowered his head, pinching his nose bridge with his fingers as he attempted to think of a suitable reply. He was not going to lie, but he was struggling with his years of internalised spacism. "I was born on Remus," Was how he decided to reply to that question. He intentionally kept his gaze away from the other's eyes, turning his head now to look down the corridor. "Your roommate is French, he's a nice guy you will like him," An attempt to change the subject and hopefully divert the other's attention from Renakir to his new roommate.

"You were born..." He sighed once he realized his question was dodged. He looked to the side and scratched the side of his face. He wasn't wearing contacts, this was just him out in the open free. He looked down the corridor and shrugged. "Thanks. I appreciate it. I guess I'll be going, it's nice meeting you," he said, the feeling of the monotone and more made him feel like it was indeed time to go and meet his roomie.

"Jolan tru," He said, but his eyes stayed fixed on the Reman boy. He wasn't going to move until he saw the other leave. Perhaps this was a bit of Romulan-Reman paranoia, but he did not trust this kid. What are the odds that the newest Reman ensign would knock on his door. He was friendly, but Reman. He surely read the roster and saw the name 'RENAKIR TORRE'VNAU', and thus came here specifically. As a former Reman slave, Renakir knew there were no 'accidents' amongst his people. Surely, this was a plot. His eyes were hidden behind his darkened sunglasses, just staring this boy down hoping he would leave quickly so he could to back to munching his food.

He went to leave, but he forgot something. He looked back at Renakir again and went to speak again, though the silent sunglasses stare made him just go silent. He blinked quickly and turned away, swiftly heading down the hallway. Yup. This wasn't someone he'd want to meet as a friend; he wanted to avoid Renakir and go with someone that had an at least agreeable personality. He didn't reply with the romulan greeting, simply leaving.

Was he too harsh? Maybe. He noticed the boy look at him again and then turn back around. The name, Tulas Ervek, he was Reman by blood but most likely raised somewhere else. There was a brief moment of 'what if' type thoughts but he quickly Surak'd those away and headed back into his quarters. He grabbed his ale and baguette again and headed over to his work station on his side of the room. "Computer, profile, Ensign Tulas Ervek," He commanded, his hands were currently full so the voice commands were useful. He munched on his baguette as he read through the file. His suspicions were correct. Earth raised. Well certainly he owed this boy an apology, right? Apology. Illogical. Perhaps he should just send him a message and invite him somewhere? No, that would be too suspicious. His bestie was a Romulan who threatened murder in public, he was in the station's unofficial Fight Club with two incredibly strong Klingons. He wasn't sure if there were any stereotypes about Romulan-Remans, but he was clearly not breaking any of them. He was going to send him a message and explain. But what should he say? Maybe he should ask Tiravurik. His uncle was knowledgeable, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back to Surak Snacks. Oh how he wished his uncle could read, things would be so much easier. He sat and munched his baguette as he continued to read the new ensign's profile, intrigued but also a bit afraid of what would become of their brief meeting. Friendship? Enemies? He didn't know which would be worse.

She was nearly down the hallway when she realised she literally had no idea where she was going. Jet black curly hair with dark eyes that reflected the ambient lights above. She appeared full Romulan, forehead ridges and slanted eyebrows with pointed ears. Looking around and seeing an endless wave of unknown faces, she stepped to the side and leaned up against the wall. Little did she know, she was leaning right up against the buzzer to the quarters she was standing outside of! Lalisa had her Starfleet PADD tucked under her arm and her personal one in her hands. She was writing some notes, this would certainly be an interesting article she thought. Her trip to 777 and adventures in Federation space.

Remun was deep in meditation when the buzzer sounded through the quarters. The green man was sitting cross legged on his floor, dressed in Vulcan robes, not a hair out of place. As he heard the buzzer, he opened his eyes, blew out his meditation lamp and stood up. He went through the door into the shared room. Renakir wasn’t there. “Computer, temperature at 20 C, lights at 60%.” He then went to the door. He wondered who would come by at this time. Maybe Lieutenant Commander Dzharok? He would enjoy that. His freckled face was completely void of emotion as he stood up straight in front of the door. “Computer, open the door.”

As the door opened, Lalisa stepped back and looked around wondering if she had tripped something. There was a brief look of fear on her face as she stared at the Orion boy standing in front of her. Lalisa blinked, dark eyes peering into the now brightly lit room. "Hello?" She tilted her head and grabbed both of her PADDs to hold them in her hands. This was certainly an interesting sight. An Orion boy wearing Vulcan robes. Was he raised on Vulcan? Did he just want to learn about Vulcan culture? What was going on here? Lalisa's instinct was to take another step back, out of stabbing range, she was still Romulan.

Remun raised one eyebrow very slightly. His cold eyes scanned the woman. A Romulan. Perhaps she was here for Renakir. “You have rung the doorbell,” said Remun plainly. “I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T’Lauk. Perhaps you are here to meet my roommate, Renakir Torre’vnau?” He spoke fluent Rihannsu, but his tone was completely vacant. Flat.

The tone of his voice, the robes, his name, yes this man was Vulcan raised, but he spoke Rihannsu? Interesting. She straightened his posture and met Remun's gaze with an equally emotionless expression. She may have not been raised Vulcan, but she was no stranger to the teachings of Surak and had lived amongst Vulcans on and off early in her career. "Yes, I am," She replied. When the other said the name Lalisa was even more puzzled but she didn't show it on her face. She had recognised the name 'Torre'vnau', in fact she had written an article about them not too long ago, but no she was not here to inquire about the enigmatic Romulan-Reman boy. However, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. "I am surprised you speak Rihannsu. My name is Lalisa i-Rateg T'Kota. I'm a journalist. May I come in and ask some questions?" (edited)

Remun looked at her for a moment, blinking. Her silky hair reminded him of Renakir’s. However, they could not also be related, right? No, the name was wrong, wasn’t it? She said she was a journalist. Why would she want to talk to Renakir? Because of the wedding cancellation? Something inside of Remun suddenly made him feel very protective of Renakir. All of that didn’t show on his green skinned face. “I speak many languages. Why would you find it pertinent to talk to me? What kinds of questions would you be asking and for what purpose?” He wanted to make sure that this wasn’t a waste of his time. He had things to do after all. But… if this was about the wedding cancellation… Well, he couldn’t really comment. He couldn’t make informed statements about Reman-Romulan politics. However, he could comment on Renakir. Technically. He didn’t want this journalist to write some BS about his roommate. For very logical reasons.

It was a good thing she had written that article, she had all the information about the Torre'vnau house fresh in her mind. She kept her expression neutral, putting on her best Vulcan persona. "I am writing an article about how the only son of the Torre'vnau house joined Starfleet and his experiences here. I understand he recently cancelled a wedding engagement. I'd like to ask questions about yourself and your interactions with him as I assume you two have had some interaction?" It was a shot in the dark, but she was going to try. There was a high chance that Remun knew nothing about the engagement, after all they were only roommates. That didn't mean they were friends or even spoke to each other about personal affairs.

Remun squared his shoulders slightly. It was a subconscious motion, making himself even taller than he already was. So, this was about the engagement. Remun knew that he wasn’t qualified to talk about that. However, if he could do something to (very logically) keep Renakir’s reputation intact, he would do so. Since when did he care for someone’s reputation? Weird… Illogical… Despite all that, Remun found himself giving a small nod. “We do interact frequently. That is an inevitability. I have a limited time window, and I am not qualified to comment on political matters, such as the engagement. However, I am free to answer some questions. We can take a seat.” He stepped back to let her in and he gestured at the couch.

Score! Was this a sign of good luck to come? She caught the other's subtle movements with her eyes. She was actually visiting the station to speak with a certain engineer but it seemed like she had stumbled upon another juicy story. “I understand, I will not be asking you any political questions," Lalisa reassured him as she stepped into the room and took a seat on the couch. She held up her Romulan PADD and put the Starfleet one beside her. "First, thank you for your time. Second, how did you learn Rihannsu? It seems strange for an Orion-- with a Vulcan name, to learn such a language," She started, trying to get information about Remun first. She sat with perfect posture, back straight and legs together. Her silky black curls cascaded over her shoulders, giving her a youthful appearance. She was young for a Vulcanoid, only a couple years over 50.

The doors closed and Remun sat down in an armchair opposite from T’Kota. He folded his hands neatly in his laps and he sat like someone who had a pole for a spine. His cognac eyes rested on the woman, cold and ever-slightly-judgemental. “I was raised on Vulcan and I received advanced education in many areas, one of those being linguistics,” he said, his tone remaining unchanged. “It is only logical to excel in as many subjects as possible. T’Kota, may I ask which paper you are working for?” He wanted to know who he was giving information here. Maybe Renakir’s suspicion was rubbing off.

Lalisa watched as the man took a seat in the armchair, her gaze unwavering. She carried herself with confidence and grace, but she did not have an aura of arrogance like Valleka. She was once cold and jaded like her countrymen, but after losing her family and relocating to Mol'Rihan she was determined to leave her past behind her. "That is very impressive, Lieutenant Junior Grade T'Lauk. I have been to Vulcan a couple times myself," Of course she did not reveal why she was on Vulcan. That was not relevant here. "I work for the New Romulan National Enquirer, it's an independent news agency run by myself and a couple other reporters. We're small so we do not have any political sway or agenda," She understood why the man would be nervous and she hoped her answer would be sufficient. "To show my good faith, I will tell you that I am part Vulcan myself, I am willing to conduct this interview in Vulcan if it would make you more comfortable."

She was part Vulcan? That did put Remun at ease. Some of his suspicion slipped away. A small newspaper couldn’t do too much harm. Remun nodded slightly. “I would choose whatever language you are more proficient in, as I am fluent in both Vulcan and Rihannsu. Besides, there is always the Universal Translator. I do not have an emotional attachment to either language, therefore my comfort is irrelevant.” That was a lie, but it was a Logical Lie, so never mind that. “Simply begin.”

Right, comfort was illogical as it was an emotion. Lalisa looked down at her PADD and then at the Orion boy. Her eyes began to shake ever so slightly as she stared for a few seconds before she blinked a couple times and the shaking subsided. "Alright, let's begin. Could you begin by telling me your first impressions on Mr. Torre'vnau? You can be honest," She spoke in Vulcan, perfectly in fact. But her fluency in the language was not because of her upbringing, it was from her previous job that necessitated native-level proficiency in the language.

If Remun noticed the shaking of her eyes, he did not comment on it. Maybe he dismissed it. Maybe he didn’t notice. He blinked and took a moment to recall the first time he had met Renakir. “I recall; due to cultural differences our initial contact was uneasy,” said Remun. It was a nice way of saying ‘he was the most irritating roommate I ever had’. “We would disagree on the topic of lights and temperature in this room. My initial impression was that he was too emotional, as most non-Vulcans tend to be.” He also seemed insecure at times, like when he didn’t want to eat. Or inappropriate, when he ran around in his underwear. Strangely, Remun had gone kind of used to all that. He didn’t mention it to the journalist.

As he spoke, she tapped away at her PADD, recording all his responses and adding her own notes. Despite her past, she was a surprisingly honest reporter and was not here for any 'gotcha' questions. She believed everything Remun said, there was no reason not to. She took his words at face value, not thinking there was anything else aside from what the Orion was telling her. "Lights and temperature. I assume that comes from the fact that he is Romulan-Reman and you are Orion? What was the temperature you set and what did he prefer? And I understand about non-Vulcans being too emotional, interacting with illogical species would make anyone exhausted," She said, nodding slowly. She was a charming woman and knew how to play her part well, but she was actually here to write a good article about the Romulan-Reman boy in Starfleet.

“Seeing as I grew up on Vulcan, I prefer warm temperatures and relatively bright light settings. Renakir, opposite to myself, enjoys cold temperatures, sometimes under zero degrees Celsius. Bright lights harm his eyes, which is why he wears sunglasses most of the time,” explained Remun. Did he enough talking about Renakir? None of your goddamn business. “Over the course of the past months, we have found more common grounds. We have come to make compromises regarding the environmental controls in this room.”

Enjoys cold temperatures, that checked out, he was part Reman after all. But then the Orion continued on about how the bright lights hurt Renakir's eyes. She took this as just Remun answering her question thoroughly though, but he was more knowledgable than she expected. How did she get this lucky? she thought as she took some more notes. "What sort of compromises? And as I can see it, you have your own private sleeping quarters. Wouldn't the logical solution be to take turns in this common area? Unless there is another reason for you two to need to occupy this space at the same time?" She looked towards the replicator behind Remun and then glanced at the two work stations. She was unfamiliar with Federation Starbase layouts, but it seemed odd that room temperature was such a hot topic for debate (pun completely intended) between a Vulcan and a Romulan-Reman.

“We mostly take turns,” said Remun and noticed the way she glanced at the work stations. “Occasionally we occupy the room at the same time to work, or eat.” Not that Renakir ever ate when he was around Remun. Only in Surak Snacks and Remun was partially sure that Renakir had only eaten because it would have been rude towards Men if he hadn’t. And well, not that they ever worked at the same time. In fact, it was hard to concentrate on work when Renakir was hanging around. Now that Remun thought about it, they mainly spent time together in this room when they… talked. “We occasionally meet up in here to converse.” Which was odd fro Remun — a man who tried to avoid socialising. But he didn’t add that.

That made sense, the two of them taking turns. The Orion's answers were pretty standard to what she expected. Two roommates who only interacted when necessry. There was nothing that raised any alarms until-- Meet up here to converse? She did the ever so familiar Vulcan eyebrow raise and looked up from her PADD. "Converse? What sort of topics do you converse about? Outside of the aformentioned temperature dispute," She inquired, finding it quite illogical that Remun would engage in conversation with Renakir. As she took it, the two of them tolerated each other at best, were apathetic towards the other at worst (Vulcans do not dislike people). What could they possibly converse about?

Her question made him think for a moment. What did they converse about? He supposed it was mostly their respective lives. Sharing experiences. Thoughts. Advice… Like when Renakir had told him about the engagement, when they’d sat here on the floor, Renakir with tears in his eyes… Remun remembered carefully putting the sunglasses back on Renakir’s face. He remembered how his own voice had turned more quiet as he had tried to soothe his roommate… He blinked, startling out of his memories. “We talk about work,” he deadpanned, “And recently Renakir has taken an interest to Vulcan culture; therefore it was logical to educate him about things such as Vulcan music and traditional food.” Which reminded him (and the role player) that Renakir still wanted to cook with Remun. They’d have to do that soon.

Lalisa studied the other's expression during the gap of silence between them. She wondered what was hidden behind those beautiful congnac eyes. What secrets was he hiding? And to her disappointment he replied with the most boring answer ever; work. Was all of that thinking really just to reply with 'work'? She may have been part Vulcan, but subterfuge and reading people was in her DNA. The Kota house did not survive as long as they did by being oblivious. "I see," She pulled her hair back with one hand as she typed some notes with her other. "Why is he interested in Vulcan culture? Is it because you are his roommate?" She followed up, now hunting to see if their relationship was a little closer than just the two tolerate each other.

The question caught Remun off guard. He blinked. The possibility that Renakir could be interested in Vulcan culture because of him— That hadn’t even occurred to him yet. Remun shook his head very slightly. “He told me he merely wanted to research his genetical relations. Being half-Romulan genetically makes him a distant descendant from Vulcans. It was logical to try and reconnect with that part of his descent.” Was it? Was it logical? Or was Renakir doing it because of some sentimental reasons? Was he doing it because of Remun? The Orion didn’t know, but he wouldn’t put it past his roommate. Why was it that whenever some Romulan lady came to visit Renakir, it sent Remun into a spiral of overthinking???

She stared at Remun as he blinked, immediately noticing she had said something to make the boy pause. Oh how she wished she had telepathy right about now. Well, if she had telepathy things would have turned out much differently, but that was neither here nor there. She kept her expression neutral, just like Remun. If it weren't for her forehead ridges, she could probably pass as Vulcan at this rate. "I see. What have you done specifically to help him experience Vulcan culture? Does he speak Vulcan?" She inquired, her eyes still on Remun. Her eyes began to shake once more, subtly but to any keen eye it was noticeable.

“He attempts to speak it,” answered Remun. “Though since he is not fluent, it is often easier for us to speak in Rihannsu. As to your first question, I have played to him some Vulcan music, for example. I am quite proficient with a lyre.” Pop off, Remun. Flex all you can. And then, because Remun had absolutely no tact, he looked at her and bluntly asked, “Why are your eyes shaking? Are you an android?”

"Attempts to?" Lalisa found it very odd that not only was Renakir interested in Vulcan culture, but he was trying to learn the language by speaking to his roommate. It definitely seemed like something else was going on. The Orion boy continued on talking about music now. Also very intriguing, he played music for him too? Certainly there was something else. Before she could get to her follow up question the other suddenly asked her-- the most outragerous question she had ever heard. She broke her Vulcan persona to let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. "I have to say, out of every single question I have received about my eyes, the phrase 'are you an android', was certainly never uttered," She blinked a couple times, the shaking in her eyes stopping. "Tell me, Lieutenant Junior Grade T'Lauk, what made you inquire that?" The question came out of nowhere and did not seem logical at all. A Romulan android? Now that would be something.

It was actually a very logical question and a logical conclusion, seeing as the only other person Remun knew whose eyes did the same thing, was in fact an android. “I have observed the same tremble in the eyes of an android who I know,” said Remun plainly, explaining himself. He briefly raised an eyebrow at her chuckle. “I presume my assumption was incorrect, then. Is it a medical condition?” Was he steering the topic away from Renakir on purpose or was he just genuinely interested? Nobody knows.

An android he knew? Lalisa may have been Romulan, but she was also part Vulcan and it was telling her it was illogical to jump to conclusions. Although she did not know the full personnel roster of the station it was safe to say there were probably a number of androids working and living onboard. She shook her head and said, "Yes. It's a congenital condition that runs in my family. It's called latent nystagmus. I get it from my maternal side." As exciting as it would be for a Romulan android to be walking around a Federation Starbase, that was not the case. "Before I ask my next question about Mr. Torre'vnau, may I inquire the name of the android you know? This is not for the article, just genuine curiosity. I hold no prejudice against them by the way, despite what the stereotype about my people would lead you to believe," She was not going to miss this opportunity to get more information, even if it didn't seem relevant to the task at hand.

Remun hesitated for a moment. Giving a Romulan journalist the information that Dzharok was an android… it was fishy, considering that Dzharok disliked being open about that particular fact. Then again, it was official information. Anyone with access to the crew roster knew that Alizati Dzharok was an android and it would be simple to find out. It wasn’t some kind of scandalous thing and Remun was willing to believe this journalist that she had no malicious intent. “Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok,” he said plainly. “He is our Chief of Engineering and a very agreeable and efficient colleague.” Because Remun did not have friends.

Somehow she managed to keep her expression completely neutral when she heard this bit of information. She would have to come back to it. So he knew him, what a coincidence. There were a million things buzzing around in her head right now, but she had to stay on track. But her luck was incredible today. In her mind she was patting herself on the back for not one, but two lucky happenings. "I see. I did a little research about Starfleet before I came here. Mr. Torre'vnau, you, and Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok all work in the same department, am I correct?" She looked down at her PADD and began to type out some notes.

“In a way,” said Remun, “However, Engineering and Operations are two separate divisions. Engineering is a subdivision of Operations. While Renakir and I work together in Operations, Lieutenant Commander Dzharok is not de facto in the same division.” There was nothing else to say to that, it was all very simple professional information. And he stated it as such. (edited)

This was useful information to know and she quickly wrote it down in her notes. "You said Lieutenant Commander Jarok was an agreeable and efficient colleague, that implies that you two have worked together. This is the last I will inquire about him, I am curious as to your own working environment," She said, trying to disguise her question as just pure curiosity in Remun. She was interested in what his job entailed, especially because she did not have access to the Starfleet personnel database. Her eyes began to shake once more, but this time she did not seem to notice.

“Lieutenant Commander Dzharok and I have not worked much alongside each other, since he is in a senior positions and our jobs do not overlap much. However, we have spoken several times about work and he has assisted me with programming and testing an application on the station’s communication system,” said Remun, his voice a bland monotone. “Since I am in computer engineering and inventory, I mostly conduct my work in isolation in the computer laboratories, or surveying inventory.” Well, the lady wanted to know about his working environment, there it was. Mostly boring.

What most people would think was boring, Lalisa found fascinating, she recorded all of the Orion boy's responses on her PADD, making note of their interactions regarding programming. To most people it would seem obvious than an android would choose engineering. It was logical, required a lot of maths and thinking, and of course an android would have already had the lifelong experience of being an artificial life form. However to Lalisa this came as a surprise that the android would choose engineering. Considering what she knew about him, things she was not going to reveal to this boy. "I see. Thank you," She said in response to his answer."So back to Mr. Torre'vnau. So you two are both in the Operations department? I understand you are in computer engineering and inventory, what does Mr. Torre'vnau do? Do you interact at work often?"

Remun responded immediately, “Rarely. Renakir is responsible for the turbolifts and transporters. Recently during an ion storm, we happened to work with each other, but it is more common for us to work on unrelated projects.” He would have loved to know what T’Kota knew about Alizati. But Remun had no clue that she knew anything. So he couldn’t ask. Which was frustrating for the role player.

"Turbolifts and transporters, I see," She tapped away at her PADD, more notes and more ideas for possible questions. Despite them returning back to the topic of Renakir, she still couldn't forget about the Vulcan-raised Orion boy's connection with the android engineer. At the same time, she did say she wouldn't ask anymore questions about him. It was a frustrating position to be in, but her curiosity was not more important than keeping a good relationship with someone so valuable in her search. "Work on unrelated projects? Please elaborate."

“I work with programs and software, Renakir works with hardware, repairing the lifts, transporting people and such. Therefore, our work does not overlap very frequently.” Did that contradict how he said they would talk about work often? Maybe it did. Whatever. Remun didn’t care.

She nodded slowly, but didn't write any notes this time. Instead she looked up at Remun, expression neutral. "You said you talk about work often, if your work does not overlap, why converse about it?" How curious, his answers were. Did he not realise what he was saying? Lalisa thought Remun was an interesting character, Vulcan-raised Orion, logical, hung around with androids, specifically Alizati, and casually conversed with his roommate about their unrelated work. She pushed some of her hair off her shoulder and stared right at Remun, awaiting his response.

Remun blinked his cognac eyes again, and an answer came quickly to his mind. “Since we are in the same division, it makes sense to keep informed about each other’s work and projects. Even when they mostly do not overlap.” It was also kind of nice to have someone to talk to at the end of the day, chat about what they did, talk about work and food and music… Not that that was the kind of thing Remun enjoyed. That would have been illogical. Highly illogical! “And occasionally, as aforementioned, our work does overlap in certain areas.”

"Very interesting," Lalisa wrote down a couple more notes before looking at Remun once more. "Your relationship with Mr. Torre'vnau is fascinating," They sounded like an old married couple to be honest, but she wasn't going to say that. "And I assume with the frequency that you two converse that you find the conversations engaging despite Mr. Torre'vnau being illogical and emotional?" Remun had beautiful eyes, she could see what Renakir saw in him. Green skin, freckles, pretty eyes, silky hair, definitely not a bad choice she thought. Handsome enough to cancel an engagement for? Most definitely.

Remun would have found her thoughts highly illogical and inappropriate, and he would have judged her for it. But he didn’t know what she was thinking. “I will say this,” he spoke coolly, “While I found Renakir to be an inconvenient individual to deal with in the beginning, our relationship has since then changed. I have a neutral opinion on Renakir. He is a competent officer and…” He stopped himself. He’d been meaning to say something about how the two of them shared some things in terms of their experiences, they bonded over their cultural differences in a weird way. But he didn’t say that.

She listened closely to what he was saying, it was amazing how his opinion changed about Renakir in such a short period of time. Well, it had bee a few months, but it was still a short time. When Remun paused, Lalisa blinked at him and just stared. Her eyes shook a little before she blinked a couple times to correct the issue. "And..? Your relationship has since changed, you are neutral about Renakir and now?" No way was she letting the Orion get away with just saying something so interseting and not finishing it. What was their relationship?

Remun straightened his spine. Which was redundant, because it was already super straight. (Unlike him.) He met T’Kota’s eyes and said, “And I have found that he is not as inconvenient to deal with as I thought he was. In fact, I have had several agreeable conversations with him. Although he remains an illogical individual, he is capable of logic. He is a mentally well reflected person.” He had after all accepted her interrogation, because he wanted to uphold Renakir’s reputation. Whatever that illogical desire was about. Odd.

She did indeed see the seriousness reflected in Remun's eyes as he spoke. It didn't take a Vulcan, or a Romulan, to figure out that Remun considered Renakir as more than just a roommate. Perhaps a friend or something more? She quickly typed away some notes, but she did this without looking at her PADD. She was still looking at Remun. "Several agreeable conversations. Can you name one? Even if it is about work, it would be helpful to know what sort of agreeable conversations you two have had. Alternatively, I am also interested to know if you two disagree on anything currently. Aside from the temperature that is."

At this point, a little Renakir voice in the back of Remun’s head said something about androids and shaking eyes and Romulan journalists. And Remun found himself narrowing his eyes slightly. “How is that information pertinent to the article?”, he asked coldly.

"I would like to know what sort of agreeable conversations you two have, what you two connect on. Also what you disagree on, I want to capture everything about Mr. Torre'vnau's life here including those he associates with. Seeing as you are his roommate and have stated you interact frequently, it is only logical that I ask you questions about him," Lalisa replied, a bit worried that she was asking too many questions. Perhaps they could pick up this interview another time, she didn't want this Orion boy to think she was up to something nefarious. She was certainly not. Although she would sneak in one more Alizati question somehow.

“I will tell you right now that Renakir and I are not close enough for me to give you an appropriate account of his personality,” answered Remun. “Mine and Renakir’s relationship is primarily professional and born from necessity. It is logical to associate with those whom I must live with.” He paused, looking down at his hands briefly before returning his attention to the journalist. “We spoke for example about Vulcan cuisine recently. Renakir was rather interested in my culinary skills. It was an agreeable conversation.” Then he added, “Something we disagree upon would be Lieutenant Commander Dzharok’s ability to perform his duty.”

He was totally dodging her questions and it made her disappointed but not surprised. Even if he didn't say, she had her own theories and hoped to get them verified by others later. For now, she focused on what Remun was saying about Vulcan cuisine. "Vulcan cuisine, how fascinating. I wouldn't expect him to want to try Vulcan cuisine. His father told me he much enjoyed Reman food now that it was quite easy to find on Mol'Rihan," She explained, nodding as she spoke. And that's when Remun mentioned the android again. Now was her chance! "Renakir does not believe Lieutenant Commander Jarok is capable of performing his duties? But he is an android engineer, it was literally what he was programmed to do, is it not?" Despite originally being here to find Alizati, she knew surprisingly nothing about the man.

Remun perked up slightly, unnoticeably, as T’Kota spoke of Renakir’s father. Remun knew nothing about the man. He found himself strangely intrigued, even though it was none of his business. To answer her question, he said, “I do not know what purposes the Lieutenant Commander’s software includes. I do however know that in my experience he has been a competent senior officer. Renakir is suspicious by nature, especially of AIs.” Then, he fixed her with his eyes and asked a counter question. “You are familiar with Renakir’s father?”

"I am not surprised he is, many Romulans are. I do not see an issue with them, however I do understand the ethical dilemma with synthetic life," Lalisa said as she thought about Alizati who was literally holding the memories of-- "Yes, I interviewed him not too long ago for my article about the Torre'vnau house," She responded. "He is quite the enigma, but I was able to learn quite a bit after speaking with him and Senator Meruvix. She's Renakir's aunt, a Reman. I am willing to send you the article and of course answer any questions you have right now."

Remun was painfully reminded of the fact that this was in fact still none of his goddamn business. By Surak, he did not want to invest valuable time into getting to know things about his roommate’s family. The hell? Like he didn’t have better things to do than asking about Renakir’s father or… “Do you have information on whether or not he will go through with the cancellation of the engagement?”, he asked.

Why was the engagement so important to Remun? He spoke often with Renakir, they engaged in casual conversation, and now he's asking if the engagement was cancelled? That was all the confirmation she needed about their relationship, or at least Remun's feelings. "He has agreed to cancel the engagement. The Rylov house had quite the fall from grace," She explained, tone stable and unchanged but on the inside she was quite please with the outcome. Although she had a lot of opinions about a lot of the former "powerful" families. None of them good. The Torre'vnau house was one of the few from Rator III she actually respected. "Why do you ask?"

So, the cancellation would happen. That was a good thing, right? Or maybe it was illogical for Remun to think about it in the first place. But Renakir got what he wanted. That was good. Right? “It is a subject that Renakir is very passionate about,” he responded plainly. “It would be good if the matter was settled soon, so he could find peace of mind once again.” Simple as that. Not personal reasons related to Remun. Just logical reasons to ask. He broke eye contact for a moment to check the time and then picked it up again. “Do you have any other questions towards me? I must be going soon.” (edited)

"I understand. Yes it was something that concerned Cerrub as well," Lalisa said, standing up and grabbing her second PADD."This has been informative, thank you again Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T'Lauk. I look forward to when we cross paths again," She bowed her head ever so slightly and walked out the door.

Remun did not say goodbye. He did not look forward to crossing paths again and he did not get the door for her. Classic asshole move. He just sat there and there until the doors closed behind T’Kota and he was alone again. The Orion stood up, went back to his quarters. He had a few more minutes until his shift began and he used them to change into his uniform. Once that was done, he headed out the room. “Computer, lights off, temperature at 10 C,” he said and then left for his shift.

[D] He made a bee line from the lower habitat ring, to the turbolift, and finally to his quarters. Renakir didn't even bother to mess with the room temperature (lights were off and it was 'cool enough') and just went straight to his private bedroom. Was he making too much noise? Probably, but he didn't care, he was a boy on a mission. As soon as he was in his room he tossed off his glasses, unzipped his jacket, and began to strip. No one else was there, he could do whatever he wanted and besides he usually walked around in his underwear even in front of Remun. He plopped his little grey butt on this bed and tapped away at his PADD. He was penning a letter to his father. If anyone could do anything, it'd be him. Cerrub was Romulan but he understood the importance of Reman rights, surely he would see how messed up the scene in the lower habitat ring was. Renakir wrote the poor man a novel with a detailed account of the incident.

To: Renakir Solait ir-Biscae Tr'Torre'vnau From: Cerrub i-Ra'tleifhi Tr'Torre'vnau Renakir, I am disappointed to hear that you accosted a Romulan guard whilst he was performing his duties. I understand your desire to fight for the Remans, but your actions could have gotten you arrested too. I do not know the story with that Reman, but if Starfleet was holding her as a prisoner, I can only assume she was accused of something serious and you should not have interfered. Furthermore I am also going to ask you to avoid giving your name in these situations. We are one of the few mixed houses on New Romulus and I do not want to give the other Romulans more reasons to dislike or distrust us. You must control your Reman impulses. I know it's difficult, but you must if you wish for any Romulan to take you seriously. I want you to refrain from any interaction with Republic personnel unless necessary. For your protection and to preserve our family name. And lastly. About your concern about the Reman budget. The plaza is going to be built in our district, I'll take you to see it. It will be celebrating not just Romulan independence, but Reman too. The Reman budget is only being cut by 31%, it'll hardly be noticeable. I will speak with Meruvix and we will try and find a way to increase the Reman reparations budget, but do not see this plaza as a loss. It is a gain, for both Romulans and Remans. Instead of reading the headlines, take some time to read the full article. This is what I mean by your Reman impulses, you need to take a deep breath and gather all the facts before jumping to conclusions.

(edited)

01:09

On a different note have you met up with Tiravurik? He misses you and he brought you some new sunglasses. Onusuk has been working nonstop to create better eyewear for Remans. She is developing contact lenses as well which may interest you. Maybe they'll be done by the time you visit again. You've got your mother's fighting spirit and my eyes. You shouldn't have to hide your lovely features behind a pair of sunglasses. I'll tell you when the contacts are complete. Jolan tru.

(edited)

Renakir was in his private quarters, all cool and icy, just the way he liked it. In typical Renakir fashion-- well literal Renakir fashion, he was only in his underwear and his sunglasses, awaiting the arrival of his friend.

[D] Ding dong.

Renakir headed out to answer the door, greeting his friend with his typical resting bitch face, but he was happy to see him. It's just he wasn't in the mood to smile. "Eshen, thank you for coming," Renakir stepped aside to let Eshen walk into the room. "For reasons, I want to keep my bedroom cold and dark, so we can chat in the common area. I think Takov is at work," Renakir said as he went to the sofa and plopped his little grey butt down. "Computer, lights 20%, temperature 15 C," He commanded, wanting to make the room a bit more comfortable for his Klingon-Vulcan friend. "You brought the ale and the brownies, right?"

Eshen unearthed the tupperware box of still-warm, rich, nutella-stuffed brownies, opened it, and cheekily ate one. The texture was fudge-y, apart from the middle layer of gooey melted chocolate, and it was rich and sweet. He held the box out for Renakir to take one, then placed it on the table near the common room sofa and sat down. "I told you, no combining sugar and ale. I don't care how Reman you are, I'm not risking it."

"Then synthol it is," Renakir grabbed a brownie from Eshen's hands and sprang up from his seat so he coudl go to the replicator. "Romulan ale," He ordered. "And do you want anything to drink? I genuinely enjoy the taste of Romulan ale so I don't care if it's synthol," He said as he stuffed the brownie into his mouth, eating the whole thing in a single bite. Truth be told, Renakir did not like earth sweets at all. He did not like sugary things, but he could tell Eshen made these brownies with love and that was all that mattered. Plus he wasn't eating for taste, he was eating to get his mind off of all the chaos that was surrounding him. Renakir stretched his arms up, flexing the muscles on his back and arms as he did so. He forgot to warn Eshen he walked around in his quarters in his underwear, but seeing as the other hadn't said anything he was probably fine with it.

Eshen was more than fine with it. In fact, as Renakir stood up and stretched, Eshen leaned back on the arm of the sofa and openly admired him. Come on, Renakir knew what kind of man he was by now. "One Vulcan Rosé," he said, "Of which I do also have some of the real stuff in my room. We should drink it together sometime."

"Vulcan Rosé," Renakir ordered from the replicator. He grabbed the two drinks and walked over to the sofa. With a single brownie in his system now he was starting to feel more at ease. So much as ease he wasn't even sitting out of stabbing range. He grabbed his PADD that was sitting on the coffee table. "Yes, we should drink together. I have never engaged in social drinking before," He admitted. it was because of his teeth. "So.. I want to show you a letter from my father. But first, i want to tell you what happened the other day in the Lower Habitat ring. This...Is going to be quite the story, are you ready? i need your opnion and help, I'm no diplomat so I don't know what to do next."

"Yes you have, with me, the first time we met!" And possibly when they had that two-person charcuterie party. Eshen drank directly from the bottle since they'd both forgotten to replicate wine glasses, then said, "Go on and tell your story. I'll listen and help as best I can, but no promises."

"True, you are the first and only," Renakir said as he sat cross-legged on the sofa. His toenails were black just like his fingernails. He long and grey with silky hair and pointy teeth and he hoenstly hated it most of the time. At least with Eshen he didn't have to worry about offending the others with his Reman features. "There was a Reman being held prisoner in the Lower Habitat Ring. I had no idea she was being held there until I saw a crowd gathered around her," He began his story, his expression somehow managing to get even more grim than usual. "She was screaming and struggling while two Romulan guards had her in hand cuffs and pulled her down the corridor. She kept screaming, Don't let them take me back! Please. I could tell she was relieved when she saw my face and heard my voice. She looked scared," Renakir took his sunglasses off and rubbed the small bit of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "The Romulan Republic is supposed to be fair and democratic, but she was terrified of going back. I don't care what her crimes were-- no one deserved that sort of treatment. The Romulans claimed that no one was going to hurt her, but I could see past their lies. They threatened to arrest me too," Renakir said as he put his bottle of ale down and hugged his knees to his chest. "But she was being hurt. Her screams... They sounded like my mother. When the Remans were being evacuated to Cretaris, my mother snuck away from the Reman camp to find my father to tell him he had a son. The last I saw her she was being dragged away by two Romulan guards."

Sometimes he forgot how hard Renakir's life had been, and every reminder was like a douse of cold water over his head. "There was a Reman being held? I honestly had no idea either. Did she have a reason to be so terrified? Other than general Romulan prejudice, and getting handled roughly by Romulan authorities, which I understand is a terrifying enough experience to both have and witness." It was times like these he wished he could hug Renakir again. The brownies were like a metaphorical hug, at least - something to comfort him. "Specifically, how do they deal with regular criminals in Romulan society, let alone Reman ones? I've done some research in my studies of other cultures but I'm sure you can imagine how cryptic Romulans can be even when they're voluntarily sharing information about their own culture. I know you get an Interceptor, which is like a lawyer, so there must be some similarities to the Federation system."

,"She claimed they would do bad things to her on Mol'Rihan. She was being extradited. I... told her my name and about my mother-- I mean aunt in Standard terms, she's a senator, one of the few Reman senators, " Renakir stated. "Computer, lights 10%" Renakir put his sunglasses on the coffee table in front of him. The brownies were kicking in, but it would take more than one for him to feel the full effects. "I don't know what they'll do, actually. I also gave my full name to the guards, as if that would get them to stop. I know, obstructing justice and then identifying myself, not the most Romulan move. The Republic hides things too, even when they say they're open and free-" He grit his teeth together and balled up his hands in two fists. "They say a lot of things. They're open and free, they'll give the Reman people reparations," He continued, his words slightly strained. "But then just recently the senate... voted to cut the Reman budget to build some stupid fucking plaza in the Ekhaem District. It's a rich area, only the elite would be able to enjoy it. I don't care what the Republic says, Romulan society is still a two caste system and Remans are second class citizens. They just hide it better now. You don't need to wear shackles to be a slave," He looked at Eshen, the sparkle of his little silver eyes seemed to shine in the darkness.

"I agree wholeheartedly," Eshen replied, taking a graceful swig of wine, then looking at Renakir, determined, though he couldn't see him too well in the dimness. "So let's do something about it. I don't know what, but I have two advantages: I'm in the unique position where I'm not Reman or even a Romulan, so they can't hold either of those things against me, and I may have no status to use but I've got nothing to lose, either. Maybe you could ask your father to investigate what's going on with her on the down-low and we could - I don't know - try and get the Station Commander to talk to the rest of Starfleet about it, maybe." (edited)

"That's...The second thing," Renakir grabbed his PADD from the table and handed it to Eshen with his father's letter on it. After he did that he hugged his knees to his chest once again and sighed. "I think I need to tell you a little about my Romulan side." "I come from the honourable Torre'vnau house, we owned many mines on Remus," Renakir explained, Eshen was smart he would certainly understand what he meant when he said his family owned mines. "My father married into the family, to the eldest son, Sirrai. He was spacist, let's just say that," Despite never knowing the man, saying his name left a bitter taste in the Romulan-Reman's mouth. He had heard stories, many stories, about the atrocities he had committed. Sirrai was ruthless and embodied every ugly Romulan trait. Unfortunately Sirrai was not out of the norm for many Romulans, there were many like him. The worst part of it all, Sirrai and the Torre'vnau house weren't even Tal Shiar connected. They were just assholes. "Despite all that, my father proceeded with the marriage so he could gain control of the house. He-- Let's just say they were only married for a few hours," Renakir said, refusing to say the word aloud. He didn't want to believe his father was a murderer. "It's quite a weird situation-- From Reman slave to Romulan prince-- kinda. I've only gotten this far because my father has worked to keep our honour. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells when I'm with my Romulan family, the way they look at me... They still refer to me as their dirty son."

"Well, for your sake and mine this particular phrasing doesn't leave this doesn't leave this room, but if they say that: they're a bunch of cunts. I don't think you're dirty and I never will. You can count on that, Rena-dear." He had nothing to say on what Renakir's father did - he already had an idea from their previous conversation in which Renakir had subtly indicated he knew people who could deal with Eshen's father - nor was he surprised that they, er, owned mines. From what he knew of Romulan history, there was only so much wealth you could obtain without getting blood on your hands, and chances are that blood was Reman. Eshen crossed his legs in Renakir's direction and leaned a little closer - not in an intimate way, more like a conspiratorial way, though he wondered if Romulans even had a word in their language separating the two. "I understand you need to be careful to keep up the reputation of your house, as well as your reputation among your own house. That's why I said your father could investigate it secretly, and if you need anyone to be a face or take the blame, for any plotting or subterfuge, just point at me. My families can't get any more disgraced than they already are - although, actually, messing with Romulans would probably get me more clout with them, not less, especially on the Klingon side. I do admire much about Romulans, but not how many enemies you've made. But this is all hypothetical, of course. I've no idea what we could do, if we could do anything. All we can do is try."

"-- Thanks Eshen," He had to admit, at first he disliked the nickname. Not because he didn't like Eshen, but because he always wanted his Reman name said in full. However after hearing it a couple times, he was starting to understand the earthling custom of giving trusted friends terms of endearment. Even Saren had a nickname for him. He sighed and shook his head in response to his friend's suggestion. It was a good thought but, "I don't think my father would do that. Please, read his letter," He instructed, hoping that it would clear up some things. "My father has always stood beside the Reman people, but he grew up wealthy and he is Romulan. He told me I shouldn't have done what I did and-- that I was acting too Reman about it. But Eshen, daelhen, I'm so tired of keeping my head down and playing by Romulan rules only to be given dried Lehe'jhme in return. I don't want to start a revolution but.... I really don't know what to do, diplomatically that is. I know you can help me, even if your name is disgraced."

Eshen took some time to read the letter. "Only 31%? Reman impulses? Hmmm. I do see what you mean. Well - the thing is, what I would do is play by Romulan rules. I mean, I love rules. Legal rules, social rules, etcetera. It's all part of a game of political intrigue that I enjoy playing. Like with Valleka. She may have fooled me a little by the end, but I still built played her game well. The issue is, since I'm not part of Romulan society, I can't exactly step in and help this Reman woman myself unless Starfleet themselves gets involved and then I get myself involved, but, as you know, we are famously averse to interfering with the politics of other cultures. At least, legally." Eshen leant forward and grabbed a brownie to nibble, wondering when they would kick in for Renakir. Hopefully not soon, since he needed him to have coherent thought in order for them to discuss this. "Since Starfleet has already handed the Reman woman - I feel bad calling her that, but I don't know her name - off to the Romulan authorities, this suggests they intend to disavow themselves of the matter entirely. I did meet a journalist recently who I could perhaps at least ask to investigate what's happening with the woman currently, at least. From that point on we would need to make sure she has a decent interceptor. If we could find out what she was arrested for, that would be nice."

”I know my father is just trying to think about the bigger picture but-- I can't help it, Eshen, I'm Reman," Renakir stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on the sofa. It was still incredibly warm for him, even in his underwear. He wanted to stay curled up, but it was too hot to do so. He also grabbed another brownie and began to munch. He was full vucalnoid, however he had a lot of muscle so it would take a couple brownies to really get him drunk. "A journalist? I don't know if I would put my faith in a Romulan journalist," Renakir frowned before taking another bite of the brownie. Sharp pearly white teeth fully visible as he did so. "And.. This is why I need you. Because you don't have any Reman impulses," The words stung as he said them. His father was a caring man, but he was horrible Romulan at times. "I want to be involved in this, but I don't want to risk hurting my house. My father is already displeased with me as it is."

It wasn't too cold for him - well, it was, since he was a desert species biologically, but he'd also grown up in England and winters there could get below zero celcius, so he'd learned to tolerate it. He wondered briefly what Renakir thought of snow, and whether he'd enjoy going to a winter holodeck simulation - it might be just chilly enough for him to be comfortable, for once, and Eshen would be fine as long as he bundled up. Another time, maybe. Eshen smiled dryly, like the wine, though it was also just as sweet. "I do have savage Klingon impulses and primal Vulcan pre-Awakening impulses. That's what my father always said. Not the same, obviously, it's just interesting to me that you keep using that phrasing. I don't know if I would put my faith in her, Renakir, but I could - for lack of a better word - use her. She has connections neither of us do, and it's the only place I know where to start since we can't use your father and we can't use Starfleet until we've talked to someone higher up in rank than I am about dealing with this issue."

Popping the rest of the brownie into his mouth, Renakir then ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the fluffy layers as he did so. He was forever grateful he got his hair from his father's side, he didn't know if he could really live the bald life. "No no, you're good Eshen. You're hot when you're fighting I don't mind," *The brownies were certainly showing their affects now, Renakir didn't even realise what he just said. *"Then I will leave it to you to ask her. The press conference is over so she should be going back to Mol'Rihan soon, we don't have a lot of time. I want to talk to someone higher up, maybe Captain Mo? But I'm just a transporter operator, I think you'd have to help me." (edited)

"Ah, must you only say things like that when you're sugar-tipsy? And to think, I call you beautiful so often when I'm stone cold sober." Eshen sighed dramatically, then laughed. "Anyway, I'd certainly be willing. I'll contact Captain Key - Mo and Lalisa tomorrow, then. Mo is kind of above my station, though, so I don't know if he'd reply to me if I asked about this, but he does owe me for some walnuts."

"It's not me being sugar-tipsy. I mean it, I've always found you attractive and honestly I hate that I'm Romulan sometimes because I want to hug people without being paranoid that I am gonna get stabbed. I wish my father didn't teach me all the ways to murder people," Renakir began to gesture wildly with his hands as he spoke. He was not typically a very expressive Romulan, but the brownies were doing exactly what he wanted them to do and now he felt free and unhinged. He didn't feel like he was being ingenuine to his stoic brand, in fact he felt more like himself than ever before. He embraced emotions, all of them. "And-- Why did you give the captain walnuts? Actually do I want to know? Daelhen, will you hug me? I know I'm practically naked, but I the only other person who has ever hugged me was my mother and well, she's not here anymore. Please?"

"I -" Well, that came out of nowhere. Eshen shuffled away from him on the sofa. If this was literally anyone else, even a less touch-averse Romulan, he might oblige, but... "Renakir, I know touch is more intimate for you than it is for other people and I'm not going to do it with you when you're in an altered state of mind. Had you ever asked before eating a bunch of brownies, I'd consider it now, but from my point of view, I have no way of knowing if this is something you'd want regularly, which up 'til now your general attitude has given me the impression that you wouldn't consider we only just built up to touching fingers," Though ironically, for Eshen, that was a more symbolically intimate gesture than hugging was, "Or if the brownies have had more of an effect on you than we expected. I know you're not that drunk, but I'm not going to indulge you until you can give me a fully sober confirmation that this is a boundary that's now open to me. Besides... The fact that you still don't trust me enough to ask me for this unless you're sugar-tipsy doesn't feel great. I'm sorry."

Renakir sighed and curled up in his little spot once again, no hugs yet again. "Alright then, Eshen. Well... I guess we can focus on the matter at hand. We need to speak to that Romulan reporter, and... The station commander," He reached out to grab his sunglasses that were sitting on the table and put them on. Not because of the lights, but because he didn't want to show his full expression anymore. He was definitely sugar tipsy, it was terrible being a Vulcanoid sometimes.

Eshen felt kind of bad. He didn't fuck around with this kind of thing, though, for personal reasons. He shuffled closer again, well within stabbing range. "Renakir... It's a no now, not a no forever. I'll ask you again another time, okay? Or you can ask me when your head is clear, and I promise I'll hug you all you want. I'm just... Very careful about this kind of thing. I've done some things drunk that I regretted sober in the past." Not getting into that shit right now, though. Maybe one day, with him, Adill, Nalas, Aella, or... He had this weird feeling Allan might understand, even though he wasn't officially part of his little Circle of Honesty yet. "Anyway, like I said, we can message them tomorrow. For now, since you're clearly in a state to get your feelings out, why don't you just... Talk about whatever you want to? You can vent or cry or say whatever stupid things come into your mind right now, I won't judge you."

"But I'm always paranoid... I hate it," Renakir sighed and looked at his half finished bottle of Romulan ale on the table. His sunglasses began to slide off his face, but he didn't make any efforts to push them up. He listened closely to the way Eshen spoke. Even with his sugar-intoxicated mind he knew his friend did care about him. It didn't make him feel much better though. Just like alcohol was to the humanoid brain, sugar was to the Vulcanoid one and he could feel his mental control slipping away. "Yeah, tomorrow... We'll ask them," He sighed again tiling his head to the side. "I wish I wasn't Romulan-- or Reman. I wish I could just enjoy things normally. I wish I didn't think everything was a plot. That stupid android engineer, he's a fucking plot. I'm telling you, Eshen. He's tied to the Tal Shiar. I don't have any proof, I just feel it. He has the face of one of those guys. He's not Vulcan, he's a liar."

Oh no. Why did Renakir, in his Romulan paranoia, have to ask something that activated his Vulcan Paranoia? "I thought that at first too, but he is Vulcan. Not typically, but like how I am. There may be something more to him beyond that," Maybe even something Romulan, if the clues he'd gathered so far meant anything, "But to be honest, he's actually sort of helped me out recently, so I'm... Trying not to speculate too much. I don't think we should talk about him when you're like this, though. It'll make your paranoia worse." Eshen reached forward and grabbed another brownie, offering it to Renakir with a warm smile. "Regarding being a Romulan-Reman - sometimes I feel like that too. That maybe I'd be better off if I was full Vulcan, or Klingon, or even a human. But then I wouldn't be the kind of person whose life led me to be here with you right now, so I think it was worth it, don't you?"

Renakir took the brownie from Eshen and ate it in one giant bite. He chewed slowly, pondering over the taste. It was the perfect balance of gooey and cronchy, very fudgy as well. French people loved to eat, they ate literally anything and it made Renakir's life at the academy incredibly awkward. He wished he was better at eating socially, but no he was awkawrd. "I suppose... I can't understand a word he says. But then again, sometimes I feel like I don't understand anyone," Renakir grabbed his bottle of ale and chugged it to chase the taste of the brownie. Yes, he was chasing a brownie with Romulan Ale, go ahead, call him the stereotype he embraced it. "I like you as Klingon and Vulcan... It's not bad to be mixed. I wish I didn't get the genetic middle finger though. I got hair, but I have sharp teeth, black nails, grey skin-- Would you believe it, my eyes are actually from my father. My eyes and hair are the only things I got from him, the Reman genes are pretty dominant."

Hearing Renakir speak of nails, Eshen removed his gloves so his talons were free. It felt appropriate. "I like your grey skin. It's like you're carved from stone, like a Greek statue." Then Eshen squinted. Wait, the whole mining thing and rocks. Then again, Remans did seem to value rocks culturally. "Was that offensive? Sorry. What do you mean, though, when you say you don't understand anyone?"

Renakir let out a small chuckle when Eshen said he was carved from stone. He wasn't offended at all it seemed. He looked at his friend's talons and held his hands up so he could show Eshen his nails and look at their hands side by side. They were alike in a lot of ways, it was oddly comforting despite both of them being a mix of completely different races. Vulcans and Romulans were similar, but Klingons and Remans were literal worlds apart. Warrior races, but Remans did not have the same honour code as Klingons. "No, I appreciate the compliment. It's not inaccurate either. People say Remans were a subspecies of Romulans that mixed with the extremophile bacteria on Remus. In a way, we are literally all carved from stone-- bacteria. Rocks are part of who we are, in fact in Havrannsu all of our terms of endearment are names of rocks," Renakir told Eshen, starting to lighten up just a little as he spoke about his culture. "And... I guess it's just difficult looking so different. And being different, i guess. When I was in the academy I did everything I could to fit in, that's why I am so French," Renakir was born on Remus, but in many ways he did feel French. The most French Romulan-Reman in the galaxy. "I just want to be able to interact with people normally. But the only ways I know how to show affection is to... Say something violent like-- I'd commit murder for you or if anyone messes with you I'd mess them up-- or... I'd beat up your enemies behind the Waffle House. That's not how people usually show friendship though, but that's what means the most to me."

Eshen held his hand up for easier comparison. Renakir's hand was bigger than his, probably, but far less scarred. And Renakir's nails were black, but Eshen's were slightly hooked, like raptor's claws. They were nearly touching bare palms. Scandalous. "Those are very Klingon things to say, you know. I can't usually say it in public because, you know, aggressive Klingon stereotype, but among friends I often say I'll challenge those who've wronged them to Bat'leths at dawn. What are these Reman terms of endearment, though? I've been meaning to learn - Havrannsu, was it? So that would be a good place to start." (edited)

Renakir blushed a light shade of green when he noticed their hands were dangerously close. He crossed his legs and put his hands on his knees, too scandalous. Renakir was still sitting there ass out in his underwear, the cool air from the vents felt good on his grey skin. He liked seeing Eshen's talons, but he understood why the man would keep them hidden. If Renakir was a diploamt he'd probably hide his hands too. "Bat'leths at dawn? I like that, I would appreciate you taking out my enemies in honourable combat," Being both from warrior races he felt comfortable saying that to Eshen. He took a deep breath and thought for a moment about some Havrannsu terms. "Yes, Havrannsu. It's a very difficult language. I suppose one could compare it to... Russian. But the writing system is closer to Mandarin Chinese. We have a lot of metaphors with stones or gems. For example-- 'Are the rocks good?' is how you ask if an area is safe," He explained, he honestly wasn't that good at Havrannsu despite it being his first language. His father regretted not being able to help him keep up his language abilities when he was younger. "And for affection, it's a little messed up, but if someone is attractive, we call them carved from dilithium."

"I'll challenge your dad's ex-husband to Bat'leths in Sto-vo-kor. Wait, he wouldn't be there. Erebus? I might turn up there if I kick it, who knows; I'm a polysexual polyamorous polytheist." It was kind of funny how Renakir was literally in his underwear while the most Eshen had removed tonight was gloves. He had the sudden urge to strip in solidarity, but it was too cold. "Carved from dilithium? I like it, actually. How do you say that?"

"Erebus, yes that is the Romulan and Reman afterlife. Well-- If you are Tenakruvek, you can go to Erebus and then come back, that's what he did. Five times. Just go there, open up a can of whoop ass, come back," Renakir joked, actually liking that idea. Perhaps his father would also support Eshen's endeavors, Cerrub would most certainly like Eshen. "Yeah, carved from dilithium, umm, Havrannsu is a little hard to pronounce but it's yustolam diliteyannu.” He said slowly, trying to say each syllable carefully so Eshen could repeat him.

"Yustolam... Yustolam diliteyannu," Eshen repeated. His pronunciation wasn't perfect, but it was damn good considering this was a word in a language he'd never spoken before. He picked up his forgotten Vulcan Rosé, drank a bit, then offered it to Renakir to try. "Maybe next time you start putting your looks down, I'll have to call you that. I'd almost forgotten..." Valleka gave me that name, he thought, but he didn't want to mention her. "...That I've been anointed saviour of the Remans. Hopefully that's a good omen for our good intentions." The things hell was famously paved by.

The blush on his cheeks got darker when Eshen repeated the words back at him. Havrannsu was not a very pretty or poetic language like French or Vulcan, but hearing the Havrannsu words from Eshen's lips was romantic to him. He took the bottle of Vulcan Rosé and had a sip. It was lighter than Romulan Ale, not bad, but also not his style. He set the bottle down, the glass bottom making a small click when it hit the hard coffee table. "Savior of the Remans? Yeah, you're Reman now, actually I think Tiravurik would be really happy to hear that. He a nice guy, a little awkward but nice. I heard Men is teaching him how to read," Renakir said as he leaned back on the sofa and extended his legs. He looked extremely long now, long, grey, smooth skin and pointy features. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he looked content.

Eshen didn't have the cultural awareness to understand the full impact of his words. Not like that would've changed anything. He was a romantic guy who said romantic things to people. This made his true feelings hard to discern and had ended up causing a few broken hearts in the past, but he couldn't stop if he wanted to. But when Renakir mentioned Surak Snacks, his confident smile wavered. "Right. I actually got banned from there for three weeks. I offended the owner. He messaged me saying he changed his mind, but it still felt bad." Eshen shook his head. "I didn't come here to complain to you, though. Besides, if the Remans accept me, who cares about the Vulcans? I think it would be kind of fun if you got really sugar-drunk and attempted to give me Havrannsu lessons. God knows how my pronunciation would be by the end of the night."

"WHAT?! You got banned?!" Renakir didn't think it would be possible to get banned from a Vulcan restaurant. He furrowed his brows and looked at Eshen, very concerned. "I am sorry to hear that. I can always ask Tiravurik to make you some Reman chilly and bring it to you myself," He also felt bad, if there was anyone who should be banned from that place it should have been him for ruining the wonderful cups and utensils with his stupid teeth. "The Remans will always accept you, you're a good man. I think you'd love to visit my estate on Mol'Rihan-- yeah, estate, it's got 4 fucking buildings. When I said we had dilithium money I meant we had dilithium money," It was such a weird dichotomy, a former Reman slave boy who grew up in a wealthy and powerful family. He may have gotten the big middle finger by mother nature, but he was well aware of his privileged living situation. "Haha, I'll give you Havrannsu lessons when I'm not sugar drunk too," Renakir grabbed another brownie and ate it in a single bite.

"Estate?" Eshen had led a fairly privileged life, at least monetarily, but he didn't have an estate. The Klingon side of his family did, but he'd never exactly been invited to visit. "I've never been to an estate before. That might be kind of fun. Do you... Have servants?" Reman ones, perhaps. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable. "When I was younger, our house was fairly large, but not a mansion or anything, so I cleaned it myself in my many hours alone, and at some point my parents started expecting it of me and they would chastise me when I didn't do it by the time they came back, so - you know, if would have been illogical to hire a maid." It was why he'd just appointed himself the cleaner of his and Nalas' shared quarters instead of establishing any sort of rota. He just didn't have enough faith in other people to look after him, even a little. "I cooked for them often, too. They would actually praise me when I got a dish right. It was nice," Eshen said, smiling despite what he was saying. To this day, acts of service was still his love language, apart from touch, of which he had been so often denied and unendingly and desperately craved every moment of his life. "They didn't like Earth food, though, so Grandma taught me that when I snuck out."

"I know, it's something Federation citizens take for granted. You can join Starfleet and live without money-- but for a Romulan to come to Starfleet it actually takes a fuckton of money or some connections, I had both so here I am," Renakir leaned back and took a deep breath. The brownies were working, although he knew his limits and he wasn't going to overdo it. He wanted to be somewhat coherent so he could chat with Eshen. "And yep, we've always had servants, but they're all Romulan and only work in the two Romulan buildings. So how Romulan families work is servants are actually a high position, because servants adopt our name, we're all family. All of the servants have the family name Torre'vnau, which gives them quite a bit of social standing and our protection," He explained, thinking that the term 'servant' had a much different connotation in Federation spaces than it did in Romulan ones. "For the Remans side no servants. It's a different family structure, everyone shares the housework equally," He told Eshen, quite enthusiastic telling him about how his family worked. Romulans and Remans cohabitating together, who would have thought. He listened to Eshen explain his own family situation. A slight frown crossed his face when he heard that his friend had to clean himself. Not only that, but they were expecting it? Oh no, that was practically slavery. "That's not right, you shouldn't have had to do all that. I'm sorry, Daelhen," There was that word again, trusted bond, quite a serious term at that. Not as serious as dinam, brother, but for Romulans to trust-- that was deep. "Man, I wish I could challenge your family to bat'leths at dawn."

Eshen laughed; not demurely or behind a gloved hand, but openly and loudly. "Get me a front row seat, then; I'd definitely like to see that, and your home someday, darling Daelhen," Eshen replied, deciding he might as well start returning the use of such a valuable word. "It sounds like one big multicultural commune! Well, not so much the latter on the Romulan side, but I like the idea of a house where everyone pitches in. Thanks for the sympathy, but the bright side is it made me good at housework and an excellent cook, which I'm told are quite attractive traits - and I do have to agree. Not to mention my mother passed on her Bat'leth skills, and, circling around to that again, in return for teaching me Havrannsu, how about I teach you some Mok'bara with the Bat'leth sometime?"

Renakir laughed when Eshen did. He enjoyed seeing the other show his emotions. He knew Eshen had different faces depending on who he was with, but he hoped the one he saw in front of him was close to the real Eshen. He wanted to believe the other enjoyed embracing his emotions like him. "The Remans are a very communal race, we had to be. In my opinion we're probably the friendliest of all the Vulcanoid races," He knew how weird that must have sounded, especially because the Remans, just like the Romulans, also tried to destroy the Federation once. But they were really a loving people, they just were blinded by hate and turmoil caused by the Romulans. "You would really teach me? Oh, I mean we're in fight club. Yeah we fight, but training is also important. I can teach you some Reman or Chinese fighting styles too, they're oddly similar," Yes, Remans were a warrior race and had a very distinct fighting style because it was the only part of their culture they were able to keep in tact through all the slavery. "Remans use fighting to tell stories-- actually, there is a Tenakruvek-- opera? It's a 5 part series, you could actually be Tenakruvek."

"There's an OPERA?" Eshen exclaimed. If Renakir wanted emotional expression, he was getting it. Eshen leaned slightly closer in interest, eyes shining in child-like awe. Opera was one of his greatest passions, after all. This level of enthusiasm was fairly close to who Eshen would be if he embraced all his emotions; passionate, but manic and volatile. Dion was a little closer to that personality, in a sense, but Renakir had also probably glimpsed it when they fought. Unfortunately, if he really embraced emotions so intense, he would also have to embrace the full intensity of his sorrow, fear, and most dangerously, anger, and he was, at the end of the day, a follower of Surak. It was part of the reason he admired passionate people so much, particularly Nalas, so much; that boy had enthusiasm for days, and he enjoyed it vicariously. "Oh, please tell me all about this, or better yet we should go see it on the holodeck sometime! Remans are so cool. Sometimes literally. I'd love to learn their fighting styles, but you know what, no more procrastinating - sugar-drunk Havrannsu, right now! Teach me all the spiciest words!" (edited)

"Yeah, I'll teach you," Renakir said with a laugh, showing all his pointy teeth as he did so. He straightened his posture and sat up right now. His face had turned quite a lovely shade of dark green through all this chatting. Partially because of the warm temperature of the room and partially because his sheer excitement causing his body temperature to rise. "See it? You don't watch Reman opera, you're expected to be part of it. Whether it be a side character or a main player, we're all about community," He explained, clapping his hands together. "Alright-- Havrannsu. Well, I suppose the first words you want to learn are swears and compliments. Trust me, you want to learn the swears if you ever get in bed with a Reman," He smirked clearly very eager to teach his friend all of the spiciest Reman culture things.

So, like interactive theatre? Nice. Remans probably did pretty good LARPs and tabletop role-playing games, too. "Ha! Oh, believe me, I'd like to someday, if certain Remans are ever sober and willing. Alright, what's Havrannsu for -" [D] And so we cut away to save the audience from hearing whatever scandalous things Eshen wanted translated.

[D] It was a slow day, not much work to be done, not even for Remun who tended to overwork himself all the time. His security algorithm was basically perfect and his own studies of meditation couldn’t seem to capture his attention for long. All of the report he could have possibly written were already written, he’d already worked out, and Remun had decided to busy himself with some reading. The Vulcan-raised Orion was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, back upright. He was dressed in traditional Vulcan robes of a dark brown color with white embroidery running over the left side of his body. It was tight-fitting, complemented his toned body. It also helped against the relatively cool temperature in the common room, roughly 10 degrees Celsius. The lights were switched on and made his perfectly styled black hair appear silken. He was reading on his PADD.

[D] Renakir had actually been home this whole time and was meditating in his room. Not Vulcan meditation this time, that was too difficult. He was doing a simplified Romulan meditation ritual. The words of his father still echoed in his head, he needed to control his Reman impulses or else no Romulan would every take him seriously. His room was icy cold, a nice thirty degrees below zero celsius. The cool air mixed with the calming orange lanterns put his mind at ease. He was silent the whole time, barely even moving. His roommate probably didn't even know he was home. After he finished up the final stages of the Romulan Zhal Makh, he stood up and began to pick up his lanterns from the floor to fold up. Feeling refreshed, Renakir donned his sunglasses and headed out into the common area. He wasn't expecting to see Remun, he didn't even know he was there. When Renakir walked into the common area he was met by a warm breeze and bright lights. "Good morning, Takov," He greeted, his voice calm and soft, all of the previous anger and firery emotions were gone. As Renakir made his way to the replicator, his robes swooshed behind him. Romulan traditional attire was very close to Vulcan, only with more patterns. A dark green satin cape paired with a midnight black robe, he looked like a marble statue, floating as he moved. Of course it wouldn't be Renakir if he wasn't showing skin, the opening in the robe at the top exposed his chest all the way down to his belly button. Yes, very traditional Romulan attire. No one was going to know if he omitted the under shirt, it was artistic license. "Romulan ale," He ordered from the replicator.

Remun heard the doors to Renakir’s quarters swoosh open and he made the logical assumption that it would be Renakir who was entering the room. His assumption was confirmed as he heard the familiar voice, the familiar illogical nickname which… which seemed to be something Renakir actually meant, as Remun now know. The Orion didn’t even look up from his PADD as he responded, “Greetings, Renakir,” in fluent Vulcan, “I believe it might be a health risk to start the day with synthol, though I am no medical professional.” Hypocrite; he hadn’t even slept the last night. It was a wonder how he didn’t have deep shadows under his eyes, but he was just Like That, always with a perfect facade.

Renakir was a little surprised that Remun actually greeted him. It was also strange to hear his voice mixed with Vulcan words. He furrowed his brows ever so slightly when he heard his Reman name, forgetting the conversation they had at Surak Snacks for a brief moment. Despite that conversation taking place only a couple weeks ago, Renakir often forgot that Remun was indeed addressing him as Renakir and not 'Torre'vnau'. It made their interactions feel oddly friendly. "It's just resequenced proteins, it's not gonna hurt," Renakir grabbed his glass of Romulan ale and walked over to the sofa, sitting on the opposite side from Remun. It felt strange to be sitting in the common area fully clothed for once. "We got matching outfits today," He said as he held his glass in one hand and shuffled his robes to try and get comfortable with the other. It felt like he was wearing a giant blanket, not a bad thing, but he kept sitting on the fabric.

That was when Remun finally looked up. Maybe Renakir shouldn’t have said that, because now Remun’s icy cool cognac eyes were fixed on the Reman-Romulan. His line of sight swept up and down Renakir’s body, taking in the way the blue and green fabric flowed over his frame, exposing a triangular piece of grey skin in front. Now, that was indecent, at least by Vulcan standards. Remun’s eyes caught on it for a second, but his expression was completely vacant. There was no way of telling what was on his mind. Then, he returned his attention back to the PADD. “I would not say so; Vulcan and Romulan traditional attire differs in many ways.” He was still speaking Vulcan. “Though if you are merely referring to the fact that we are both out of uniform, you are correct.” Was he even reading at this point or just finding an excuse not to stare at Renakir? (edited)

For a brief moment Renakir caught his roommate's gaze. He could just feel the judgment oozing from the Orion boy's stare. He blinked a couple times, confused why his roommate was speaking Vulcan to him. Renakir understood most of what he said, but he was still no more than intermediate at best. Languages came easy to him, it was that photographic Romulan memory paired with his Reman adaptability. "I meant we are both wearing our culture's traditional attire, you look very snuggly," Renakir replied back, this time he tried speaking Vulcan and was surprisingly not terrible. His high Rihan accent was unmistakable though, with not much listening practice Remun would have to deal with it. "What are you reading?" Renakir asked before drinking his ale in one shot, like a true Romulan.

Remun was surprised to find that (1) Renakir knew the Vulcan word for ‘snuggly’ and (2) that his accent — though very present and obscuring his pronunciation — was rather pleasant to listen to. At least in Remun’s ears. He’d found it unsettling at first, imperfect and foreign. But by now, it was kind of… interesting. Intriguing, even. “I am reading an essay on the impact of Surak’s writings on technological advancement,” said Remun plainly, watching the way Renakir’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. And then he revealed the reason behind all of this sudden Vulcan speaking. “Renakir, when we were at Surak Snacks, you expressed an interest in familiarising yourself even more with Vulcan culture. Since I do not have a shift or work to do, I would be available now if you are still interested in learning about Vulcan cuisine.” (edited)

He put his glass down on the table when he was done. Synthol was alright, but it lacked the delightful burning sensation of the real thing, he thought. The glass had a couple scratch marks along the rim, but it was a replicator glass and it was nothing his roommate hadn't seen before. Finally he was alright with eating and drinking in front of him, at least drinking. "Too many words for me, Takov," Renakir shook his head and then ran his fingers through his hair. He had a limited vocabulary in Vulcan, he only learned the key words and how to compliment the other. Yes, snuggly was one of those words. Cuddly, cute, warm, and he wasn't sure if he would ever use it but he diligently studied the word 'T'hy'la'. "Uhh... Takov, can you say it again, slower?" Renakir pushed his sunglasses up on his face and stared at the other, clearly having a much lower listening comprehension than what Remun thought. He tugged on the sides of his robes in an attempt to get comfortable whilst also try not to overheat.

The most logical thing would have been to switch back to Rihannsu. Or alternatively, if Remun really wanted to help Renakir study, he could follow his request and repeat the same words, but slower. However, he did neither of those things. Instead, he put away the PADD, setting it carefully down on the table. He even aligned its brim with the edge of the table. Everything he did was always calculated and orderly. And then, he looked back up at Renakir, with surprisingly little judgement in his eyes, and he asked, “Would you like to cook with me?” The Vulcan words were clear and slow. His tone was vacant and calm, as ever.

Why did he even bother asking, of course Remun wasn't going to repeat himself. Slowing down for another person would be 'illogical'. He sighed and pushed his fringe back, now looking away from the other. He may have had above average hearing, but that meant nothing when he didn't understand the words. Seriously, he couldn't believe that Vulcan and Rihannsu were related, they sounded nothing alike. "Sure, if you don't speak too fast," He looked at his roommate, now with his robes falling off his shoulders, exposing more of his grey skin. Free from blemishes, Renakir really did look like he was cut from stone. Smooth skin with not a speck of hair either, another strange mixing of genes, it seemed like he could only grow hair on his head. He stood up and brought his empty glass to the replicator to recycle it. "What are we gonna make, Takov?" Now that they were speaking Vulcan, Renakir was going to show off his perfect pronounciation of the word 'Takov' every chance he got, of course.

“I will attempt to speak slowly,” said Remun smoothly and stood up. His eyes followed Renakir as the man went to recycle his glass. He didn’t look at his chest. A true feat. “I was thinking we could make Kreyla, Vulcan bread. Since you enjoy baguettes.” Saying the word ‘baguettes’ with a Vulcan accent was Not It, but Remun couldn’t be bothered to learn French, that was a niche language that he likely wouldn’t ever need and so it would make no sense to learn it.

"Kreyla?" After the replicator had recycled the glass, Renakir made his way back to the sofa. His long robes brushed against the floor, but with his posture and way of walking he seemed to glide. He wasn't sure what it was about Romulan traditional attire that made him want to put effort into his motions. Walking around in his underwear, he couldn't care less how he feet hit the floor or about keeping his upper body completely still. "Yeah, of course. And it's pronounced baguettes," If Remun could be an asshole about pronounciation so could Renakir! He spoke French effortlessly, he was quite proud of his Terran language skills. French and Mandarin to be percise, beautiful languages. "Oh wait, do we have the materials? Not sure if replicator--" Renakir paused mid sentence, struggling with the right grammar and vocabulary. "Replicator supplies is sufficient," He finally was able to form a coherent sentence. Vulcan needed to be percise and even worse, it seemed like every word was a formal and long word. No contractions or slurring at all, how the hell do you have a language like that? Renakir walked back to the replicator and stared at his roommate, his whole chest was now exposed after he had pulled the fabric back.

Remun didn’t bother commenting on his own French skills or repeating the word back to Renakir. French didn’t matter to him, even though it always annoyed him not to be 100% perfect at something. There was literally no expression on his face, as he was mostly working on not staring at Renakir’s naked chest, actually. “The replicator has all the necessary ingredients,” he said, speaking carefully so that Renakir could hear every word precisely. “Perhaps you should change into something else. Because of the flour.” He kept his sentences short. It was the closest thing to a considerate action that you could get from the inexpressive Orion boy. And then he did something else, something that would have been a very Renakir thing to do. He reached up to the collar of his robes where the fabric was held together and he opened the three buttons there and on his shoulder. It caused the outer robe to unravel and slip away. Remun shrugged out of it and folded the robe it over his arms. This smooth little strip session left him in a beige undershirt, a tight-fitted long-sleeve of a thin fabric. And a pair of black trousers, and his boring uniform shoes, obviously. It was only logical to get out of the outer robe if he wanted not to get dirty during their cooking.

So it seemed like Remun was willing to help a Romulan-Reman boy out when Renakir noticed the other slowing down and speaking simply for him. He was really trying with Vulcan, but it was not a simple language at all. His very obvious Rihannsu accent showed with each syllable in his reply, "Okay, then I'll go change." He was about to walk back to his room to change when he noticed the Orion boy's hands moving to the buttons on his collar. Renakir raised an eyebrow, very curious what was going to happen. Was he staring? He was totally staring and it was a good thing he had his sunglasses on because his eyes were wide in surprise. Remun-- the asshole Remun, giving him a little show? Well it wasn't like the other was revealing any more skin, although he was eyeing the fit of the tight undershirt around the arms. "Takov is Takov," A soft smile crept across his face before he picked up the ends of his robes and swooshed them around like some queen making a grand exit. "I'll be right back," He said before disappearing into his quarters to change. Renakir was only gone for a couple of minutes before he came back. Now he was dressed in his Starfleet shorts, ass out of course, and a Reman tunic-- Also no sunglasses this time. His sunken and narrow Reman eyes were on full display, silver irises seemed to glow even under the lights. "Contacts, so I don't have to keep touching my face during cooking."

Remun would have rolled his eyes or maybe even blushed or both, when Renakir called him ‘takov’, but that would have been very not Surak-y of him, so he didn’t do any of those things. He only lifted his left eyebrow very slightly and then watched as Renakir left for his own quarters. Then, he folded his robes and set them neatly aside on the couch. While his roommate was gone, Remun set up the kitchen. As he replicated some bowls and ingredients, he tried not to think too hard about Renakir’s accent or the way he pronounced ‘takov’. He said it like he meant it. Which was odd to Remun. So much emotion and such smoothness on one simple word… That was when Renakir re-entered the room and Remun looked at him. There they were, the familiar silver eyes and the familiarly naked legs. The Orion would just have to accept that his roommate seemed incapable of dressing appropriately. He forced his eyes back up to Renakir’s. It was kind of nice to be able to see them, not just the sunglasses. Eye contact was kind of seen as proper and polite in Vulcan culture. “That seems practical,” he replied to Renakir’s words. “Come over here.” He gestured for Renakir to stand by his side in front of the table with the ingredients. There were tow bags of different types of flour, two glassed of something milk-like, a packet of salt, as well as a bowl of purple Vulcan berries and some sugar and butter. “Kreyla can be sweet or salty. I prefer sweet Kreyla, it is commonly eaten for breakfast.” He continued to speak slowly with intent. (edited)

When Renakir re-entered the room he could feel his roommate's judgment yet again. At least he was wearing clothes this time, he thought. He slowly walked over to the table, trying to be as Vulcan-like as possible, he wanted to play the part. He reached his hand up to adjust his sunglasses that he quickly remembered were not there. In a way he felt more naked than ever before, no way to shield his eyes-- plus the lights were on which meant Remun could see everything. "Sweet, okay," What Renakir wanted to say was 'our bodies naturally crave things we are deficient in', but he did not know how to say that in Vulcan. He blinked rapidly for a couple seconds and looked at the ingredients on the table. It looked like flour, a milky white substance, salt, and some other terran-looking items. "Takov, I'm Romulan," The lack of vocabulary was showing, he didn't know the names for a lot of common words, which only showed he learned through unconventional methods. Textbooks were boring and audio lessons were even worse, it was much more fun to listen to Vulcan opera or listen to one of the man VSA lectures on Romulan Warbird contained singularities. Sure he learned a lot of interesting words like 'rear nacelles' or 'disruptor weapon', but they were hardly useful outside of those specific fields. "Sugar. No," He made a little cross with his two index fingers, clearly trying his best here. "Vulcan sweet-- maybe ok?" If the Vulcans had sugar maybe it would be fine? But he wanted to ask, but he also had the vocabulary of a 2 year old.

As Renakir came to stand next to Remun, the green boy listened to his broken Vulcan — and immediately caught his meaning. Vulcans and Romulans and most Vulcanoids were affected by Terran sugar in the same way humans were affected by alcohol. Renakir thought that perhaps he’d get drunk if they cooked something with sugar in it. Silly man. As if Remun wouldn’t think of that. “This is gespar sugar, made of dried gespar fruit. Its molecular structure will not affect…” He stopped himself, because all of those words were probably difficult for Renakir to understand. And so, Remun ended up saying, “You will be fine, Renakir.” Which was in a weird way intimate and considerate without Remun even intending it to be. “Bowl,” she said the Vulcan word, pointing at the respective object. “Desert flour. Hirat berries. lhm’ta.” He pointed at all of the things, the last one being a small packet of spice. “Ihm’ta tastes like lemon.” And he decided to hand it to Renakir so the half-Reman could try. (edited)

Just when Renakir was beginning to adapt to the Vulcan sounds coming from his roommate's mouth, Remun began to speak many confusing words to him yet again. He could make out a few nouns, gespar, sugar, fruit, the rest of the sentence might as well had been in Uyghur because that's exactly how it sounded. His eyes widened ever so slightly as he his brain was trying to grasp the meaning. Without his sunglasses Remun definitely noticed. But then the other stopped mid-sentence, which took Renakir by surprise. The next string of words was oddly friendly. Almost intimate? Top list of things you can say whilst cooking and in bed, some weird part of his mind told him. "Alright, I trust you," At least he knew the word trust, but only because it was cognate. In fact the only reason he wasn't completely smooth brain was because of the cognates. He had to learn archaic Rihannsu in school, which was unsurprisingly similar to Vulcan. As the Orion pointed at each of the objects, Renakir's eyes followed. Now he knew the words for everything on the table, which was good. It was a good thing he had photographic memory, Romulans loved their memory tests after all. He looked at the spice packet and took it from Remun so he could try a bit of it. He sprinkled some of the spice on his hand to try. "Not lemon, but sufficient and good," He said, really hoping he used the right words. He was truly winging it with this whole conversation.

Remun watched as Renakir carefully tried the spice. It was almost like the Orion was genuinely interested in whether or not his roommate would enjoy the taste. Remun then simply accepted Renakir’s assessment of the taste, because he himself had in fact never even tried Terran lemons. Blame it on Vulcan xenophobia. He’d only heard once that it was comparable to lemon and that’s why he had told Renakir as much. In any case, seeing as Renakir was clearly struggling here and there, Remun slowly said, “You can turn the translator on again if my sentences are too difficult.” He then repeated the same sentence in smooth, fluent Rihannsu, adding, “Or you can ask me to translate. I simply believe this might aid you in your endeavor to learn the Vulcan language.” After all, it was how Remun had learned it himself. As a little Orion boy, standing in his adoptive mother’s kitchen, making Kreyla and being told all the names for all the ingredients… This felt familiar and homely and maybe that was why there was little to no judgement in his tone or his eyes.

He put the spice packet down and turned his head to look at his roommate when he heard the familiar words. Thank Tenakruvek, he thought-- he never felt so relieved to hear Rihannsu. "No no, I wanna learn Vulcan. I'll ask if I have more questions," He replied back in his native language. What made this experience a little easier was that fact that Remun did speak Rihannsu. It wasn't like the Academy where he had no one to converse with in his native language aside from some very enterprising humans who took the Academy Rihannsu class, but they were strange Romulan-fetishisers, it was weird. "Thanks, Takov, I understand," He switched back to Vulcan, attempting to copy his roommate's accent as best he could. Despite the two languages being very similar, the accent and cadence was like night and day. He felt the need to be less emotional and speak slower in Vulcan than he did in Rihannsu. Renakir straighted his posture, rolling his shoulders back, and looked at Remun. The beautiful cognac eyes staring right back at him, this time with less judgment than usual. Was he patronising him? In his mind Remun was always judging him. What, was it so amusing to see a Romulan speaking Vulcan? Actually, Romulans speaking Vulcan, where had he seen that before? "What shall we start with first, Teacher Takov?"

Renakir’s Vulcan was so far from perfect. Remun should logically disapprove of it, as Remun disapproved of all things imperfect and inefficient. But Renakir was learning and it was strangely admirable that he wanted to learn the language, even though he didn’t technically have to. T’Kota’s words shot through Remun’s head. The reporter had suggested that Renakir had taken an interest in Vulcan culture, because of him, because of Remun. That was somehow hard to believe, but it was illogical to dismiss the possibility entirely, wasn’t it? Or maybe Remun just didn’t want to dismiss it. “We will begin with the dough,” said Remun, Surak-ing his thoughts to a stop, and switching back to his native Vulcan, every syllable slow and smooth and emotionless. His green hands reached out for a large bowl and he placed it between Renakir and himself. “We must mix two cups of this flour with one cup of desert flour.” He pointed out the different bags and the cups, shoving the desert flour towards Renakir and taking the other one for himself. He measured two cups and filled them into the large bowl, hoping that Renakir would follow his instructions about the desert flour. That was a typical Vulcan ingredient, used in almost all pastry. It was a bit darker than regular flour and it was way softer to the touch. As a child, Remun had always enjoyed letting it run through his fingers.

Renakir stood there looking as emotionless as he could, but it was difficult when he was taught to embrace his emotions his whole life. He could focus on being emotionless or speaking Vulcan, but not both. He tilted his head ever so slightly, as if that would help him understand the words coming from the Orion's mouth. His eyes followed Remun's hands as the boy pointed out the types of flour on the table. He watched the fluffy white flour fill the measuring cup and then into the main bowl with a muffled plop. He took the desert flour and measured out one cup, at least he hoped he heard it right. He understood numbers and units of measurement, thankfully. Carefully, he filled the measuring cup with the desert flour, even going as far as he kneel down to get eye level with the cup to make sure he measured it exactly one cup. He tapped the cup on the table a couple times to measure the dark powder. Then he poured it into the large bowl, it looked like a desert. Typically he'd point that out and maybe make a witty comment, but his Vulcan was not that good. Plus Vulcan was not really a language that lent itself to jokes. "One cup, done," He put the empty measuring cup down on the table and looked to Remun for further instructions.

Remun watched as Renakir measured the flour exactly. He appreciated the attention to detail that his roommate showcased. “That is proficient,” he said, one word that was typically Vulcan in the way that it was complex and useful. “Now for the other dry ingredients.” It was so domestic. Renakir’s Vulcan, the way he was oddly quiet for once, the way he was looking at Remun with those silver eyes, no sunglasses in between the two of them. It was nice. It made Remun feel at home and oh, how long had it been since he’d last felt that feeling? That comforting safeness of a place you would call ‘home’. Remun barely recognized it. He hadn’t been to Vulcan in years and none of his previous postings had ever really felt like home. But this. This came close. “This packet of minerals. They work like baking soda. They make the dough airy,” he said and to provide a few more words he added, “Fluffy, soft.” And he showed with his hands, miming a round, soft substance in the air in front of him to show Renakir. It looked kind of funny, together with that stoic expression on his face.

He didn't know the word 'proficient' however it was oddly similar to a Rihannsu word and with context he figured it out fairly easily. He listened closely for the next instructions. Unfortunately Renakir was too preoccupied with keeping up with his roommate's Vulcan and trying to not sound stupid that he barely had time to ponder their situation. Cooking with Remun, he would definitely be thinking about this his next shift. It was a novel experience, Renakir never cooked with his family. His Romulan family would never let a Reman near their food. So Renakir ate alone with his father most times. "Fluffy soft, like Takov's hair," Renakir was going to get a witty comment out, Tenakruvek be damned! It was partially because he knew how to say what he wanted to say for once and also partially to provide himself with a distraction from his own feeling of self loathing. A Reman cooking, now that was something new. His eyes followed Remun's hands, but his mind was still mulling over how he lacked such experience as a child. The way the other moved his fingers, curling them around an invisible dough ball, it was mesmerising. He had also completely forgot he was without his glasses meaning Remun would be able to instantly see his blank stare as his mind became distant.

By now, Remun was used to Renakir making comments about his appearance every chance he got. But this time, it caught him slightly off guard. Instinctively, he raised his hand to his hair, smoothing the black strands to the side ever so slightly, the same way he often did in front of the mirror. His hair was perfectly parted in the middle, as always. “Yes,” he said, because there was not really anything to say. If Remun noticed the way Renakir was looking at his hands, well, he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to interpret anything into it either. He put the baking soda minerals into the bowl, mixed it quickly with a spoon and then gestured at the two cups of milk-like liquids. One of them was a bit bigger and it contained a smooth, completely white and liquid substance. The other one’s content was a bit more creamy. “You can add these. All of it,” he explained to Renakir, careful not to brush the other man’s hands as he pointed out the bowls. They were standing close next to each other. Almost touching shoulders, in fact. They were so close, Remun could smell the other man next to him. Renakir’s scent — a soft, pleasant cologne — mixed with the smell of sweet sugar, berries and flour. (edited)

Remun's response to his compliment was no surprise. They were both terrible compliment-takers so he didn't say anything more on that. Not that he could, at least not in Vulcan. Renakir was running through the words Remun had previously said to try and form his next sentence. It was incredibly hard and he was sure Remun was judging him for his terrible accent too. Romulans were clearly not meant to speak Vulcan, at least not him in particular. He watched how Remun's fingers gripped the spoon and slowly moved the mixture around. The little freckles that covered the other's hands were cute. He liked watching how the others green fingers moved, clutching the spoon with just enough force to move it but not too strong that it looked like he was struggling. Of course each action was mindfully executed. Being so lost in the swirling motion Remun was doing with the spoon he didn't even notice the other was dangerously close. He looked at the liquids and then at Remun. With a nod and some careful movements he added the liquids. They did not touch although they got very close. As Renakir worked, he subconsciously rolled his tongue between his sharp teeth. It was amazing how he never cut himself doing this motion. Pointy white teeth on full display now, but he was no longer worried about Remun seeing them.

Remun thought that perhaps they should speak Vulcan more often, as it apparently led to a much more silent Renakir, fewer snide comments, fewer discussions. Which was… agreeable, if not pleasant. Then again, if they kept talking Vulcan, the Reman-Romulan would probably soon be proficient enough to start discussions even in Remun’s native language. The stone-faced Orion watched Renakir’s grey hands as the man added the Vulcan cream and milk to the dough. Beautiful hands, like those of a statue. Remun’s mother had always been an admirer of art and she’d taken him to see statues in Vulcan museums often. Renakir’s hands were like that, so smooth, so perfect, pieces of art… Was that illogical? Could body parts be artful? Remun quickly pushed the thought away. “Good,” he said after Renakir had added the ingredients. His eyes went up to the half-Reman’s face. He caught a glimpse of those pointed teeth. They were strangely intriguing, interesting. The sight of those teeth made something spark in the back of Remun’s brain. The Orion was unsure what exactly that was, but he guessed it was some kind of fight or flight instinct, as he suddenly was made aware of the fact that Renakir could kill him right now if he wanted. They were standing well within a murderous distance. Some very gruesome part of Remun’s logical brain convinced him that it was a possibility that Renakir might bite his neck, bury those teeth in his flesh, draw green blood from the artery right there, and effectively kill Remun with one measured action. TW: blood, murder. Remun swallowed, feeling some kind of emotional nausea coming on. And then he locked those thoughts away in the hall of shame aka the hall of illogical thoughts, all the way in the back of his mind. Renakir wouldn’t kill him. That was some illogical Romulan suspicion rubbing off on him. He forced his eyes back down to the bowl. He added some sugar and said, “The dough is supposed to be kneaded. Would you like to do it?”

Renakir was out here just trying to get familiar with a new foreign language and yet he couldn't help but feel like he was being judged. After pouring the liquids into the bowl his eyes happened to catch his roommate staring. It didn't occur to him that he was looking at his teeth until he heard the other swallow. Suddenly Renakir regretted letting himself act so carelessly. He knew how his teeth made people feel and it was rarely good things. He shut his mouth, keep his lips together and watched as the little sugar crystals fell into the bowl. "Are you sure you want a Reman touching the bread?" He immediately hid his hands behind his back. The other staring at his teeth caused a resurgence of his own self loathing. He hated the way his grey fingers looked, he hated his black nails, and most importantly he hated his pointed teeth. Somehow he felt like he had offended the other.

Strangely enough, even with all those rather terrifying thoughts, Remun found that he was sort of disappointed to see Renakir hide his features. “Of course. Your race does not matter to me,” he said, his tone clear and honest, “Merely your cooking skills do. Please, go ahead.” And he pushed the bowl towards Renakir so the other could use his ~~beautiful~~ grey hands to knead the dough.

He didn't know why he asked that question, his roommate was a lot of things, but spacist was not one of them. In fact, Remun judged everyone equally, including himself. Renakir had long suspected some internalised spacism and self loathing in his roommate, but he would come back to that later. For now he was just trying to make good Kreyla. Renakir grabbed the bowl with both his hands and looked down at the mixture inside. Delicately and gently, Renakir began to knead the dough with his hands. His thin grey fingers easily sank into the gooey mixture as he folded and pressed on it. His Reman strength was showing as he effortlessly worked the dough. His black nails stood out from the off white mixture, his skin too. Another visual reminder of his confusing mixed heritage but he was trying not to think about it. As he worked the dough, Renakir showed no expression on his face. Completely focused on the task at hand, he was actually nailing this Vulcan persona thing. His beady little silver eyes narrowed and he subconsciously opened his mouth again to roll his tongue. In any other situation this quirk would be under control, but his mind was on the cooking and being Vulcan. The dough blob started to form into a soft ball as he kneaded it in the bowl. He was actually doing pretty good, he thought, but that was for Remun to judge. He had never made kreyla, much less any Vulcan food.

He was, in fact, doing pretty good. Remun’s eyes followed the other man’s hands, followed the movement of those grey fingers and the dough underneath. The texture of the raw food changed as it was supposed to. All the ingredients were mixed nicely by Renakir’s strong hands. When Remun’s eyes trailed up to the half-Reman’s face, he found those pointy teeth again. It made that spark in the back of his mind flare to life again. For some reason though, Renakir seemed less threatening now. Maybe it was the Vulcan facade, or the way his silver eyes were fixed on the bowl. But of course, Remun wouldn’t be Remun if he weren’t seeking for imperfections. He had a knack for finding a complaint and turning it into more or less constructive criticism whenever he could. Like right now, he noticed that Renakir was actually kneading the dough at a slightly too fast pace. It wouldn’t allow for a lot of air in the dough and that would make it less fluffy. “Slower,” said Remun quietly. The word sounded oddly scandalous as it fell from his lips, even to himself.

The seemingly always chatty Renakir was silent as he continued the motions. His stupidly floppy ears twitched a little as he did so. He was in fully focused Reman mode now. This was how he was at work too, although being a transport officer he didn't really have to interact with people. "Alright, Takov," He replied in a soft and low tone. He didn't even notice the reappearance of 'things you can say in bed and while cooking'. He also didn't notice how he replied either. The slight raspiness on the end of the word 'Takov' or the calmness in which he said 'alright'. Just as requested, he slowed down, thin grey fingers moving slower now. He curled his digits around the sides of the ball as he folded it. In his efforts to focus, he didn't even noticed he brushed shoulders with Remun ever so slightly. It was only a fraction of a second, but Renakir was currently very distracted.

The spark in the back of Remun’s mind grew more and more annoying, pushing itself to the front of Remun’s consciousness. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he could tell that his stomach dropped slightly as he heard Renakir’s words, his tone of voice, and meanwhile the grey hands were still working the dough. Remun had no idea what was wrong with him. Why was there a strange tug around his chest and stomach area? Why did it feel so… primitive? Just like that fight and flight reflex, except it somehow seemed to be the opposite. No. No, Remun did not care to analyse this strange twirl of emotions that the sight of his roommate made him feel right now. He Surak’d it all away, hoping that it wasn’t an oncoming cold or a different type of illness. “Good. That is enough,” he said plainly as Renakir had made a nice round shape with the dough. “The Hirat berries and Ihm’ta need to be kneaded into the dough.” He was unsure whether he should as to do it himself. He could. He kind of wanted to. But it would be a little illogical, seeing as Renakir’s hands were already full of dough and his own weren’t. He picked up the bowl of berries, ready to put them into the bowl with the dough.

Renakir stopped once he heard his roommate's approval. He was still very much oblivious to whatever else was going on. Unfortunately he was unable to understand the word 'berries', but with some context and visual clues he understood that they were to add the next ingredients. He stayed with his hands in the bowl around the dough but stepped a little to the side so Remun could add the ingredients. This was when he noticed how close they were, dangerously close. He was trying not to show it on his face, but the green blush against his otherwise light grey skin gave him away. He turned his head and stared at Remun, admiring the boy's sharp features. High nose, defined cheek bones, perfectly silky hair. He wanted to say something witty again, but of course he lacked the ability to do so. If he could, he'd say something about noticing Remun staring at him. The other was most certainly judging him, although he wasn't sure what he was thinking. He wished he knew, but then again his self esteem was low enough as it was.

Remun added the spices and the berries in order for Renakir to knead it all together. While he did so, his arm almost brushed Renakir’s the fabric of his shirt only millimetres away. But then, once he was done with the ingredients, he stepped back again. Pulled his hands to himself. Gave Renakir room to work. His light brown eyes locked onto Renakir’s. They reminded Remun of the lakes on Vulcan. Sometimes, on rare days, the sky would be a dark blue instead of red or yellow on his home planet. Those days would feel sombre and quiet, as though the city were grieving some kind of loss. One of those days, Remun’s father T’Lauk had taken his Orion son to a small lake. The sky had reflected on its silver surface and it had looked just like Renakir’s eyes. It had felt like Renakir’s eyes as well — strange and calm and exhilarating. Remun noticed that he was staring and quickly broke eye contact. How illogical of him to reminisce. Then again, why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he tell Renakir about Vulcan while they were already here, making Kreyla? “This is my mother’s recipe,” he said, slowly, clearly, so that Renakir could make out every word. Remun carefully, mindfully set the empty berry bowl back down on the table. “She used to bake with me after school. And then we would eat Kreyla for breakfast the next morning.”

Once all of the ingredients were added, Renakir went back to kneading the dough. He was trying not to look at his own hands, they looked alien. Weirdly grey-- he remembered as a child doing anyhting he could to hide his skin, from wearing gloves to even trying spray tan. Anything to not look so dirty as his classmates would say. So without looking at his hands he kneaded the dough and kept his chin up. He noticed his roommate had stepped back to give him more room, at least there was that. They were way too close before. His eyes met Remun's once again. He didn't know what was worse; looking at his stupid grey hands or making eye contact with his roommate-- without his sunglasses. it was weird looking at him like this, he no longer had the advantage of his sunglasses to hide behind. He wondered what Remun was thinking when they had these little staring contests. Was he repulsed by him and not saying anything? Was he surprised? Intrigued? He knew he wasn't conventionally attractive, no, he got the genetic middle finger. The only Romulan traits he got were some forehead ridges and hair. When the broke eye contact Renakir sighed with relief, now that was over. His mind was working on autopilot he nearly forgot what he was doing until he felt his fingers sinking into the mushy dough between his palms. "That sounds nice, your mother sounds like a nice lady," Renakir replied as he looekd back down at the ball of dough. Mother. Renakir didn't even remember what his looked like. "She's Vulcan, right?"

Remun nodded. “Yes, she is Vulcan. Both my adoptive parents are full-blooded Vulcans.” Nice. Remun had made her sound nice? He wasn’t sure what to think of that. “Mother is very… strict. She usually keeps to herself.” Apparently something that he had inherited, even though they weren’t genetically related. “She was also the one to teach me how to play the lyre,” said Remun and recalled the time when he’d played for Renakir. And then afterwards, the time when they’d touched accidentally… The Orion swallowed and looked at the bowl. “I believe the dough is ready.”

"Strict, I can relate to that," Renakir said, now thinking of his own father. Although, unlike his father, he didn't think Remun's parents did any murders. That was definitely a Romulan thing. What a messed up society, he thought. In fact Renakir considered himself in the minority, he never did murders nor ever felt the desire to do so. Maybe that's why he ended up joining Starfleet. He gently pressed on the sides of the dough ball and let it rest at the bottom of the bowl. He didn't catch every word Remun said, but he recognised the word 'lyre' as it was another cognate. Thank Tenakruvek for the two languages being related. Vulcan was hard, but French and even Mandarin were even harder-- virtually no cognates there. "Now what? Oh uhh-- my hands," And here he was, lack of vocabulary. Now Renakir was just here with sticky hands.

Remun wondered briefly in which ways Renakir’s parents had been strict. He was once again thinking about that wedding cancellation and the fact that Renakir kept hating his own Reman traits. Remun assumed that this hatred was something he had learned. That thought made him unreasonably upset and he quickly Surak’d it away. His eyes went to Renakir’s sticky hands. “We still need to form the breads,” he said, “It would be illogical to clean your hands already.” He dragged a baking tray out of an oven which was miraculously there, don’t ask why! He laid the tray out with baking paper and then pushed the sleeves of his arms up to his elbow. That action exposed his freckled forearms, but Renakir had seen much more of him in the pool, so Remun couldn’t be bothered to mind. He reached out for the dough and ripped off a piece of dough, forming it into a ball between his green hands, roughly the size of a big orange. “Do this,” he said, because ‘follow my example’ would have been a complex sentence.

Renakir took a big step to the side when Remun stuck his hands in the bowl to grab the dough. He would have dodged sooner, but his mind was still preoccupied with keeping up with the other's speech. It was hard to listen, control his emotions, and be Romulan. It was the triangle paradox, he could only focus on two at a time. He watched as Remun began to shape the dough between his hands-- his beautifully freckled green hands. For the briefest of moments his mind began to wander to illogical thoughts. What would those fingers feel like touching his own? Holding hands? The blush on Renakir's face got deeper the more he thought about it. Thankfully the Vulcan words coming out of his roommate's mouth forced his mind to come back to focus on the task at hand. He nodded and tried his best to imitate Remun's movements. The dough made a soft slapping noises as he gently tossed it between his hands, trying to form it into a ball. His was much messier than the Orion boy's. It was his first time trying this after all. "Help, Takov?" Renakir opened his palms with the messy dough ball sitting on top of them. It didn't even occur to him that to help Remun would have to almost touch him. Again, it was understand Vulcan, control emotions, and be Romulan. Only two tasks at a time.

Remun cooled the dough into a perfect shape and then placed it carefully on the tray. He kept his eyes on the dough and his own hands, only occasionally glancing at Renakir’s messy attempts at following his instructions. Oh, well, it was his first time. Remun was totally judging him, but also he was required to cut him some slack for logical reasons. And then, Renakir stretched out his hands towards Remun. He froze for a second. But, fair enough, if Renakir needed help then… Remun reached for the dough, aiming to take it out of Renakir’s hands. God, this was scandalous! But he told himself he was doing this for logical reasons, to save resources, make nice bread, help his roommate out. Logical reasons. Logical reasons for his fingertips to scrape over Renakir’s palms as he took the dough out of his hands. Logical reasons for green skin to touch grey skin. Logical reasons for him to quickly look away, hiding a blush. He rounded Renakir’s semi-bread-shaped dough and then put it on the tray as well. He didn’t meet Renakir’s eyes, he kept his face stoic.

Renakir didn't even notice what he was doing until he saw the look on the Orion's face. Well, actually there was nothing but stoic bitch face, however he could see the hesitation. That's right, he was still Romulan. Before Renakir could even pull his hand away, Remun's fingertips were grazing the top of his palms. Scandalous! He wanted to pull his hands away and say somehting, but he didn't have the vocabulary for that and given their lack of conversation he had chosen 'be Vulcan' as his second task to focus on. So he did nothing, he just kept his eyes on Remun's hands as green fingers gently shaped the dough into a ball shape. The dough made a muffled thud on the tray, which sounded awfully loud to Renakir's floppy ears. He ripped off another piece of dough to try again. This time he did managed to get it into a proper ball shape, however the form was still not as good as Remun's. "I need you, Takov." He said softly. He was trying to think of the word for 'help', but again, with his mind focused on being emotionless and being Romulan, he couldn't focus on speaking Vulcan. No way, so he just said whatever Vulcan words sounded kinda sorta like what he wanted. Remun would understand, right?

Okay, that first dough situation was over and done with and Remun was really proud of the fact that he was keeping all of his emotions at bay. All of his irritation and judgement and strange longing, all of those feelings he was keeping far away from his consciousness, buried deep underneath the teachings of Surak. I need you, Takov. What? I need you. It made his blood run cold and then hot and the dams were dangerously close to breaking. Part of him wanted to snap at Renakir for how incompetent he was, how utterly inappropriate. But another part of him just wanted to take Renakir’s stupidly beautiful hands and… He cut himself off. “You need more practice, Renakir.” And with that, he took the dough out of the other’s hands once again. And once again, their skin brushed. It was an immense feat, but Remun still managed not to blush. At least that was something. He managed to remain stoic and hide himself behind a facade of his judgemental attitude. After dropping the dough ball on the tray, he took the last of the dough as well and did the same thing with it. All the while not meeting Renakir’s eyes.

Renakir thought he was doing alright. His Vulcan may have been far from perfect and his first shot at cooking-- well he got a solid E for effort he guessed. He couldn't help but feel like he had royally messed up when he heard the words more practice, Renakir. Without showing the emotions on his face, he looked down at Remun's hands once again as they worked the dough. The gooey white mixture that seemed to mold perfectly between the boy's palms. And then finally the last ball was plopped on the tray. He blinked a couple times at the balls of dough, it didn't even register to him that Remun had touched his hand once again. Remun was totally judging him, if not for his cooking skills, but for his Vulcan pronounciation. Well, at the very least he was sure Remun enjoyed the fact that Renakir spoke a lot less due to lack of language ability. He noticed the other had stopped staring at him, but why would he be? He was busying himself fixing Renakir's mistakes, of course he didn't have time to look at the illogical Reman standing beside him. ".. Sorry, I'm not good," Apologies were illogical, however Renakir was not going to at least make an effort to show that wanted to do better.

“I was not criticising your skill,” for once, “I was merely stating a fact. You require more practice. Perhaps we should do this more frequently.” Damn. Remun was kind of surprised by himself that he had actually Said That. Wow. He still wouldn’t meet Renakir’s eyes — couldn’t meet them, because he knew that his own eyes would give away too much emotion. He swallowed and then put the breads into the oven, heating it to 200 degrees Celsius. They’d take about 45 minutes to bake. “Did you understand that?”, he asked, mindful of the fact that those sentences had been long and kind of complex.

'Merely stating a fact', yea saying he needs more practice is stating a fact but it sounded like nothing but pure judgement to him. Renakir grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his hands as he looked at all the dirtied bowls and cups on the table. He began to pile them up to prepare to recycle them in the replicator. Whatever Remun said after that went completely over his head, it seemed like right now he was choosing to be Romulan and emotionless and the fact Remun wasn't looking at him was definitely setting off all sorts of alarms. The man clearly had some disdain for him and it made him feel terrible. He was fully convinced the feelings he felt before when they touched were intentional on Remun's part. As a way to make Renakir emotional and prove he, a Romulan, didn't 'have what it takes' to be Vulcan. Yeah, maybe he's right, Renakir didn't have what it takes. "Look at me, Takov," Renakir stared Remun down. He was still not the greatest with Making requests in Vulcan so the words came out as more of a demand than a request, however Renakir was trying to be polite as evident in his tone of voice.,

Remun took it Renakir hadn’t understood him. Oh, well. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would be better if they never did this again. Yes. Remun could go back to his isolated life of no social contact and impeccable work. Yes. But… did he want that? No, wanting was illogical. It would be better. Yes. When he heard his roommate’s words, he finally drew his eyes away from the oven. Cognac coloured irises and pitch black pupils. He looked at Renakir. And he waited. What?, he wanted to say. What is it? What’s wrong? Expect of course, everything was wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling so confused and this shouldn’t be affecting him so much, he shouldn’t feel so… so soft. His expression was vacant, it didn’t betray his internal conflict.

Renakir was so confused. There was totally a communication problem between them but of course not wanting to show any weakness by speaking his native Rihannsu, he was going to get through this! He stared right back at Remun and took a step closer. If he had to mime everything, so be it. He was good at cherades. Well, Romulan cherades. Which end in kiling the other person if they didn't get it fast enough. Wait that wasn't even a game, it was just straight up murder. "E'lev-- my Takov." Renakir spoke in such a soft and hushed tone, he spoke the Vulcan words as if they were a prayer. "Why do you avoid my eyes? Do I repulse you with my Reman features? Or are you scared if you look at me too long you'll fall for me even more?" In his attempt to sound witty he ened up sounded very... Romantic. The last sentence specifically he wanted to say 'scared you will be pushed away from me even more', but of course Renakir being terrible at Vulcan made one single mistake in his pronunciation and it changed the meaning of the entire sentence. Whoops, that's language learning.

Remun’s brain malfunctioned. He stared at Renakir with widened eyes. His brain did a full 180, then another one and then another one. He had no fucking idea how to even react to that. Finally, Remun simply said, “You are being illogical,” and then turned around and left quickly, vanishing in his room. He’d look after the bread in a bit. For now, he desperately needed to meditate his emotions away.

Was his Vulcan really that terrible? Renakir frowned, but did not move to chase Remun. Instead he just stayed there, in their common area and stared at the oven with the bread cooking inside. He wondered if he should just apologise, speak Rihannsu. It was 'giving up' but at least he would be sure the other could understand him. Renakir sighed as he walked over to the sofa and plopped down. The bread still had some time to cook anyway.

Remun spent the full 45 minutes that the bread took to bake meditating in his room. He refused to go outside, he had no way of knowing what his emotions would drive him to do or say when he saw Renakir right now. Renakir and his eyes, his hands, his beautiful hands… His mind had never been so illogical as it was now and frankly, it was beginning to scare Remun. It was beginning to scare the shit out of him. When finally he re-entered the common room/kitchen, he felt at least somewhat in control. But he looked tired, unable to hide the shadows under his eyes any longer. He was still sleep deprived and scared and he tried to hard to keep it all hidden away behind his symmetrical face and the load of chaotic freckles.

At this point Renakir was watching SpaceTube on the holo projector. 'Top 10 most satisfying turbolift cleanings', his favourite genre of videos besides those true crime ones (but that was a secret). "Takov, welcome back," He greeted with a bit of a confused tone. There was a part of him that was happy to see Remun but another part of him that just felt shame when he saw the Orion. The cold eyes of judgment, the dark circles, the neat perfectly combed hair. Honestly he was thinking Remun was just going to abandon him and the bread.

For a moment Remun looked at Renakir and he thought about telling him. He thought about telling him everything. Telling him that he hadn’t slept properly in days, that he was so scared, that whenever their eyes met, his mind derailed and he felt like he was falling apart, he felt like he was useless and worthless and alone. So, so alone. Renakir had made him realise how alone he really was. He thought for a moment that maybe Renakir wouldn’t judge him for his emotions. But then again, Renakir would probably feel triumphant. ‘Oh, I finally made the green boy show his emotions!’ Ugh. The thought made Remun angry. He would rather not give him that confirmation. No. He was fine. Everything was perfectly fine, his heart rate wasn’t at all elevated and he wasn’t at all feeling weak and vulnerable, he was fine. End of discussion. By Surak! “Hello. The bread should be done now. Would you like to take it out of the oven?”, he asked in Vulcan. Yes, good, that language made him feel safe at least. Secure.

Renakir blinked his beady little Reman eyes at his roommate, none the wiser to whatever else was going on. Despite the perfect Vulcan monotone, this very intuitive Romulan-Reman boy had a feeling there was something more. Probably more judgment. At least this cooking session was going terrible enough that he highly doubted there'd be a second time. After they were done he was sure there was going to be another lecture on how Renakir's Vulcan was not only terrible, but how he was illogical and over emotional. Probably. *Click, the holo projector turned off and Renakir made his way towards the oven.* "Yeah, I'll do it," He said in his best Vulcan accent. He picked up languages quickly and even though his vocabulary was still lacking, he at least had picked up the right cadence. Vulcan and Rihannsu had a lot of similar sounds, although the Vulcan sound system was a lot more complex. Renakir grabbed a pair of often mitts and slowly pulled the oven door open. "This looks done, right?"

“Yes,” said Remun. He was still anxious, but hearing Renakir speak Vulcan was somehow soothing. He wasn’t perfect at it, but it reminded Remun that maybe perfection wasn’t always the best thing. Maybe. He went to stand next to Renakir, within stabbing range, but still with a considerable distance between them. “Two for me, two for you. We can eat them now, while they are still warm. If you would like that.” His eyes flickered upwards to Renakir’s for a moment, questioningly.

Renakir flinched when Remun stepped towards him, it was that Romulan paranoia again. He didn't normally react this way whenever they were within stabbing range, but for some reason this time having Remun so close hit different. Thankfully the clanking of the oven racks as he pulled the loafs of bread out provided enough distraction for Renakir to regain his composure. Once out of the oven, Renaklir nimbly used his foot to close the door and set the bread on top of a towel on the table. His eyes shifted from the bread to Remun waiting for the other to take his pieces first. Despite their surprise meal together at Surak Snacks, Renakir was unsure if he was feeling communal eating at the moment. Why did Remun stare at him like that? What was there to judge him for? It was no secret that this Romulan-Reman boy was terrible at Vulcan or that his skin was grey and made him look like space Slenderman. He took off the oven mittens and stepped back, now out of stabbing range so he Remun could see the bread. Yet again Renakir was relying on body language, nodding and gesturing to the bread.

Remun understood the silent communication, he even seemed to understand Renakir’s paranoia. It was illogical of course, but it was oddly comforting in that it was at least familiar behaviour coming from Renakir. Remun sat down on the couch at the table and reached out with careful, green fingers. The bread was still hot. Despite this, Remun broke it in two pieces. Steam emerged. The room was by now filled with a wonderful sweet scent. It reminded Remun of home, breakfast with his mother. “Take a seat, Renakir,” he said, and for once his voice was not commanding or judgemental. It wasn’t even cold and emotionless. It was… soft. As though he were lost in thought. As though he were asking Renakir to sit, requesting his company. “I must admit that my earlier disappearance was… rash.” It was his way of saying sorry, saying he didn’t want to be rude. But those were words he didn’t know how to use. Those were words for people with emotions, people with friends… and Remun wasn’t such a person. He was just a Vulcan-raised Orion with a talent for offending people and not giving a shit about them. Except… right now, he was giving a lot of shits about Renakir. To an extent that was beginning to worry him.

As if this man was not full of surprises enough, he sat down on the couch and-- invited him to sit? Renakir was trying his best to stay as Vulcan as possible, but he couldn't hide the furrow in his brows when the other spoke. He watched as the bread steamed in front of his roommate and the sweet aroma fill the air. What was this Orion boy thinking? Renakir's Romulan plot sensors were going off again. But this time he was not on the alert for a Tal Shiar plot, but a 'I am going to lure you into a situation where I can judge the shit out of you' plot. If it wasn't for the next sentence out of the other's mouth he would have stuck with that theory too. Instead he raised and eyebrow and took a seat on the couch. "Your earlier-- rash? What?" Renakir gave the other a look of confusion. "Sorry, catch no ball," He said holding out his hands to show open palms, a gesture he hoped the other understood. "If you're frustrated by me, I know," He said, assuming all the big words his roommate was using were him scrutinising his behaviour. Although it was hard to tell when the other was speaking so... Soft. But he could not underestimate Vulcan misdirection, who knows what he was really thinking.

Remun was maybe a little frustrated that Renakir couldn’t understand him. But not because of Renakir’s low level of skill, rather it was because Remun felt so comfortably safe within the confines of his native language and Rihannsu felt so unpredictable. The Orion boy did not show any of his frustration though. He remained calm and collected, looking briefly up at Renakir and then at the bread. He switched to fluent Rihannsu when he spoke, “I said that my sudden disappearance was rash of me. You… took me by surprise with your words and I did not know how to react, hence I left.” There wasn’t an ‘I’m sorry’ but at least his tone remained smooth and non-judgemental.

Hearing Remun speak his native language was a breath of fresh air, but Renakir wanted to try Vulcan! Despite all this, it seemed like his roommate wasn't passing judgment over him? At least not yet. He sat back against the sofa, not touching his bread at all. "It's alright, Takov. My Vulcan is terrible," Renakir was still unsure what exactly he said that triggered the random meditation session (he assumed that's what Remun was doing), but he knrw it was his fault. The Romulan-Reman's Vulcan was still clunky and heavily accented, even if the speed and cadence was less awkward now. "The bread smells good," He said as he stared at the thin stream of smoke that was still coming off of the broken piece of bread. Renakir attemptd to adjust his sunglasses only to realise he was not wearing them. That's right, he instead just rubbed his eyes.

Remun’s line of sight rested on Renakir’s hands, the way he rubbed those sliver eyes. “You are improving,” said Remun in Vulcan and then repeated in Rihannsu, “You are improving.” He then took one half of the bread and held it out to Renakir, green hands against golden brown pastry. “Try,” he said calmly in Rihannsu. Emotions were overturning inside of his head and stomach. Why was he almost enjoying this? He never enjoyed social contact. Much less with someone as illogical as Renakir. But here they were and Remun noticed that a big part of him really hoped Renakir would like the bread. What an illogical hope to have.

"Thanks," Was Renakir's only response to his roommate's praise. Despite the significance of this rare occurrence of approval, the Romulan-Reman boy could not think of any other response. Maybe it was his limited skills in Vulcan or maybe he still didn't know what to do with compliments. He stared at Remun's hands against the bread. Green fingers, freckly, gently grasping the soft pastry. The Rihannsu words sounded strange now, almost alien despite that being Renakir's native language. There was a brief moment of internal debate about whether to take the bread or not. On one hand the whole point of this cooking adventure was to try Vulcan bread, on the other he still was scared to eat in front of others. Fortunately, or unfortunately it seemed like his body knew what it wanted and his hand reached out for the bread. Long grey fingers gently grasped the half loaf, almost burning at the warmth. Why was bread warm? This would go really well with Reman chilly, he thought. But there was no Reman chilly and Renakir gently ripped off a piece of bread. As he did so he noticed how quiet the room was. The only sounds were of their breathing and a low electrical hum that was present throughout the station. He glanced at Remun and then at the bread in his fingers. There was no chilly so he'd have to suffer through the warmth. Out of instinct, he turned his head so he could open his mouth and pop the piece in his mouth. He chewed slowly with his mouth closed, now facing Remun again. This room was bright, so bright that he was sure the his judgmental roommate would be able to see even the slightest bit of teeth if he chewed the wrong way. "It's good," He swallowed and looked back down at the bread. There was a pale green blush across his cheeks as he spoke. Something about cooking Vulcan bread together and eating it made him feel warm.

Remun didn’t smile. He would have, if he weren’t so Vulcan™️, but he didn’t smile. All he did was watch Renakir carefully as the man ate his piece of bread. There was some kind of anticipation inside of his chest when Renakir hesitated and when finally he chewed on the bread. It was like that moment just before cracking a program code. Good. He found it good. That was good, right? “I am pleased to hear you enjoy it and our endeavours were not for nothing,” he said — in Rihannsu, because that was a difficult sentence. He then gently broke off a piece of bread for himself and pushed it between his teeth, chewing. A filling flavour filled his mouth. Not too sweet, but the berries added a nice sugary kick to the Kreyla, making it fresher. Remun enjoyed the warmth a lot, contrary to Renakir. He closed his eyes for a second and savoured the taste. Renakir was right. The bread they had made was indeed good.

Renakir tried his best not to show his disappointment when Remun spoke Rihannsu again to him. He wanted to practice Vulcan, he thought he was getting better too! So he was going to try and keep it up as best as he could. "Thanks, Takov," Despite his desire to speak more Vulcan he still was limited to a few common phrases and simple sentences. He gently blew on the bread to try and cool it down as it was still much too hot. The room was eerily silent, but that was what Vulcans liked, right? To eat in silence without the need for superfluous conversation? He watched as Remun took a bite of the bread, watching the boy close his eyes as he savoured the taste. And that's where Renakir's thoughts began to wander... Wander to highly illogical things. The Orion boy looked so peaceful as he ate, his eyes closed, freckled green fingers gently grasping the bread. Why was he fantasising about his roommate feeding him bread? Or him feeding Remun? Renakir turned his back to his roommate and began to munch on his bread. It was partially his shyness about eating in front of someone, but also he didn't want the other to see his horribly green face.

By Surak, this was nice. The familiar taste, the smell, the quiet, Renakir’s presence, his broken Vulcan… It was so domestic and comfortable and oh, no, it made Remun feel genuinely good — something he did not know how to deal with! He continued eating, mostly keeping his eyes to himself. Remun’s mind also began to wander. In a very different direction, though. He thought about how lonely he’d been, all these years. He had never bonded with anyone as much as he was bonding with Renakir right now. Which was very very sad, seeing as Renakir and him were nothing but roommates and all they really did was bicker in two different languages! No, those thoughts were illogical. He didn’t need friends. He needed to work. He needed to achieve things, he needed…. Sleep. He needed sleep. Remun suppressed a yawn, overplayed it by eating another piece of bread. As he blinked, it was slow. His limbs felt heavy. For the first time in days, he felt like maybe it was okay to fall asleep. “Would you mind if I slept on the couch?”, he asked in perfectly calm, cool, fluent Vulcan and his cognac eyes went upwards to meet Renakir’s. Oh wow, how social of him to actually ask! Was that… character development??? IN MY ROLE PLAY?!! It’s more likely than you think.

Renakir was perfectly content to munch on his bread in silence until he heard a very slight rustling from Remun's side of the sofa. Just when he thought he was free of his weird fantasies about his roommate feeding him, they flooded back and he turned his head to see... Remun was sitting there calmly eating his bread and he was not offering to feed Renakir. Why was that disappointing? If that green boy fed me I'd bite his stupid fingers off, the Reman part of his mind said as it tried to overpower whatever else he was thinking. Their eyes met and suddenly this Romulan-Reman boy could not look away. He stared back at Remun before the other opened his mouth to speak again. He was asking to sleep on the couch? He had to do a double take, rub his eyes with one hand and blink a few times. Was his Vulcan bad or did his roommate really ask for his permission to sleep on the couch? Remun asking permission? Was Tenakruvek coming back for the 6th time? "I do not mind. If I can turn down the temperature, I will give you my blanket," Somehow the words came out exactly how he wanted them to! What a development! He put the remainder of his bread on the table and stood up, ready to go get his soft looking Orion roommate a blanket.

Remun suddenly regretted asking. Wait, no, regret was illogical! Much rather, he thought that it would have been better to simply go to his own room and sleep. But he was so tried and didn’t want to move and this room smelled nice and the notion of Renakir being in the same room was surprisingly nice. Huh. Renakir’s sentence sounded pleasant. He really was making fast progress in terms of language learning. Remun’s hazy mind wanted to correct Renakir’s pronunciation of ‘blanket’, but he was suddenly too tired to form a sentence. He simply nodded. Yes. Blanket.

And with that nod of approval he headed into his room to get his blanket. It was an ash grey colour with some lighter coloured threads woven throughout. Beautifully crafted, it was definitely nothing you could get at a normal store or even from a replicator. It was woven with a traditional Reman knitting technique and was truly unique. His mother had began to work on it soon after Renakir's birth and Tiravurik and Meruvix were the ones to complete it. Out of all the things that had survived the supernova, the barrage of Tal Shiar warbirds, it was this single blanket. Renakir grabbed it and headed back into the common area. "Computer, temperature 0 C," He said in his accented Vulcan before walking over to where Remun was sitting. ”Here, Takov, be warm," He said in a soft tone, but the sentence structure he used made it sound like a command. He was still a beginner in Vulcan and the language had a lot of weird nuances. After handed the blanket off, he sat back down on his side of the sofa so he could continue munching bread.

“Thank you,” said Remun. Yes, apparently he had manners after all. It was logical to thank Renakir, wasn’t it? The Orion took the blanket, letting the fabric run through his hands. It was very beautiful. Remun might have said so, but he didn’t have the mental capacity right now. He simply laid down, still dressed in his traditional, long Vulcan undershirt. The only thing he took off were his shoes and then he curled up on the couch. It was surprisingly easy being so vulnerable. Remun tucked himself into the blanket. It smelled familiar. His facial features relaxed ever so slightly, for once the judgemental resting expression left him and his eyes fluttered close and his eyebrows looked less grumpy and it made him look younger. He pulled his own frame together, knees towards his chest, hands folded underneath the couch pillow with his head resting atop. As if he were trying to hold on to himself, hold on to his body as though he were afraid it might fall apart. And maybe he was afraid that he might fall apart. Some strands of black hair fell over his freckled face. His breathing slowed down, regulated as he took breaths of cold air and the scent of Kreyla.

A normal person who wasn't repressing romantic feelings for his roommate wouldn't have even looked twice at the Orion boy curled up on the other side of the couch. However, that was not true for Renakir and he stared. There was something about seeing the green boy curled up in his blanket. Did it make this situation seem more domestic than it already was? Was it the way the grey fabric was pulled around the younger man's shoulders as he rested? He soon realised he was staring and turned away, going back to nibbling bread. Despite turning the temperature down, the room was still incredibly warm. It was the open oven that was still emitting hot air along with the steam from the still-warm loaves on the table. He was trying to focus on enjoying the bread but of course his eyes kept wandering back to the sleeping Orion. Oh how Renakir just wanted to put his arms around him, touch his beautifully freckled hands, push away the loose strands of hair that delicately covered his face. But these feelings were all buried deep within the Romulan-Reman boy's subconscious, in fact the only thing he was sure of is Remun looked damn cute huddled up in his blanket. It was probably the closest he could get to actually holding Remun with his own long grey arms.

Remun was slipping away into comfortable unconsciousness, much needed rest. As always, there was a little voice in his head telling him that he couldn’t sleep, he shouldn’t sleep, he had things to do, he had to keep busy- But the voice was quiet in the background, with Renakir’s presence radiating through the room and the warm inside of the blanket, the cool air on Remun’s face, it all outweighed the little voice. Just as he was slipping off into the realm of dreams, he mumbled, “Rai. Renakir. Riolozhikaik…Slor.” Translated from Vulcan: ‘No. Renakir. Illogical… Sweet.’ With his lips slightly parted, he finally fell asleep. And for once, it wasn’t restless.

Renakir was minding his own business, trying to stay in his own lane and not peak at his very cute roommate snuggled only stabbing distance away. At least with Remun sleeping it meant that he could munch the bread without being self conscious about his teeth. He was almost done with his half of the bread too and then it was back to his room. His mind began to drift to work related matters. Like how he still needed to make announcement about writing your name when you make OPS requests. Did that mysterious person ever get their wood they ordered that morning? He was onto his last bite of bread when he heard his name and then the word Riolozhikaik. Of course that stoic face Orion was judging his illogical ass in his sleep. He was about to get up and leave when he heard another word escape his roommate's lips; slor. This forced Renakir to do a massive double take to make sure he heard it right. Did he say illogical and sweet in the same breath? What was he gonna say next, dry water? He pursed his lips and turned his head away as the dark green blush that covered his cheeks made its way to the tips of his floppy ears. Remun put sugar in the bread. That's the only explanation. He was sugar drunk! Why else would his mind be racing so much? He was sugar drunk and hearing weird things, thinking weirder things. Renakir had been sitting manspread style on his side of the sofa, but this revelation caused him to pull his legs together and turn away from te Orion boy. He was frozen in place, unable to move, with his gaze in the complete opposite direction.

Remun was just catching some sleb, Renakir’s gay mental crisis completely went over his head.

After staring at a blank spot on the wall for what felt like forever, Renakir popped the last piece of bread into his mouth and stood up. Whatever his roommate was dreaming about he was not going to stick around to hear anymore of it. Morning wood, that's right, he had to make that announcement about the person who put in the ominous request for Bajoran Rubberwood at 0500. He dusted the crumbs off of his clothes and booked it to his private bedroom. "Temperature 15 C," He said right before disappearing into his room.

It was very considerate of Renakir to turn the temperature up. Remun barely reacted to it, only gave a very small sigh as his roommate left the room. He was dreaming about Kreyla and ice cubes and grey hands. And I’m not going to enclose anything else.

A few hours later Renakir emerged from his room, dressed in his uniform and off to work. He noticed Remun was still sleeping and for once made no move to change the temperature. He headed out the door in silence.

[D] After a very strange day at work, Renakir returned to his quarters. It was about time to leave for his holiday, he was going to return to Mol'Rihan and see his father and hopefully have some friends join him. He headed over to his work station and began writing some messages to his friends. [PADD]

Jolan tru. If you are receiving this message then I would like to invite you to my family's estate on Mol'Rihan in the Ekhaem district. Please let me know when you plan to come, do not just show up. The only surprises within Romulan society are assassinations so to avoid any misunderstandings tell me first. You will stay in the second Reman building, but I have converted the whole area to guest quarters so it will be well lit and warm. I hope you can come.

After writing the message he sent it and then grabbed some paper and a pen to write an analog letter-- who wrote on paper these days? But this was special, this was for his roommate. He tapped a few buttons on his console to bring up the Vulcan alphabet and wrote,

Takov, I am going back to Mol'Rihan. You are invited if you want to come. You are so pretty and cuddly and your freckles are the best. - Renakir

He had very limited Vulcan and the writing system was even more difficult than speaking. The last sentence was just him trying to work in a new sentence structure he learned using words he already knew. He left the paper on the table and went to his quarters to prepare to leave.

When Remun eventually found the letter — after Renakir had long left — his heart and his brain simultaneously went ajsdhasdkjahsdhjasdh. For an unreasonably long amount of time, he stood in his room, holding on to the piece of paper and blinking rapidly at it. He was invited to come? He didn’t even have an address. Well, he could ask Renakir… No, what was he thinking?! Visiting his roommate on Mol’Rihan was illogical! ‘So pretty and cuddly and your freckles are the best’. His brain kept circling back to that sentence until he found himself standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror, looking at himself. The freckles nearly made him frown with dismay, and he raised a hand to touch the green skin of his cheek. Renakir had to be making fun of him. There was no other explanation. Unless… Unless he meant it. Like he had said in the swimming pool. ‘Takov’. He’d said he meant it. Maybe, possibly, Renakir might be able to… like him? Remun touched his fingertips to his own lips, a small furrow appearing between his eyebrows. What if he did go to Mol’Rihan? Why did it feel so… appealing to spend more time with Renakir? Why did these quarters suddenly feel too empty and too big? Like he was drowning in them, all on his own. It was confusing. Illogical. Remun dropped his hand from his face and shook his head. He had to pull himself together. All of these illogical species were rubbing off on him. He gave his freckles in the mirror a last grumpy glance and then went back into the commons room. Leaving Renakir’s little letter on the couch table. “Computer, lights at 80%, temperature at 24 C.” Finally, he could make it as warm as he wanted to. Remun settled on the couch, pulled up his PADD and thought about what to do next. He pointedly did not think about Renakir, or all of his stupidly nice compliments.

[PADD] To: Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T'Lauk From: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok

I will be leaving for shore leave in the coming days, would you like to meet for Kal-Toh before then?

When the message reached him, Remun was more than glad to have something to do! Not just that, but he would be able to talk to someone who was perfectly logical, at least in his eyes, and maybe that would help him. [PADD] To: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok From: Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T’Lauk

I would very much appreciate it if we could continue our game before you leave. I am available now and all day. My roommate has left for shore leave as well. My quarters are open.

[PADD] To: Lieutenant Junior Grade Remun T'Lauk From: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok

I will be over shortly.

Remun quickly stored away Renakir’s letter in his quarters and brought the half-finished Kal-Toh game to the living room, setting it carefully down on the table. And then, he waited.

[D] And soon enough Alizati walked up to the Orion boy's quarters. He was dressed in a different type of outfit this time, not his usual ugly Hawaiian shirt. He wore tight fit black trousers and a loose fit white button up shirt with top few buttons undone. He looked like a... Handsome lawyer. His blue hair was pushed to the side, displaying his forehead ridges and slanted eyebrows. He was ready to get in the kal-zone.

Remun was dressed in traditional Vulcan robes, black with beige embroidery that emphasized his eyes. “Greetings, Lieutenant Commander,” he said formally, and oh, it was comfortable to be able to talk without any emotion and feel normal doing it.

"Lieutenant," He gave Remun a Vulcan salute as one does and a polite nod. He looked at Remun's robes, mechanical eyes picking up on every last detail. They reminded him of home, Vulcan and the Vulcanis Lunar Colony. With Dzharok's memory he felt smarter, like he had more experience and less like he was crawling around in the dark trying to figure out how to be organic. It gave him more confidence than he had before (but no one would be able to see because alas he was super Vulcan). "I assume you have the board prepared? I also wanted to tell you something, about my family."

Remun returned the ta’al, almost mechanically. As if they were both androids. If Renakir could see them, he’d probably suspect some kind of Tal Shiar android plot. “Yes, the board is prepared,” said Remun, stepping to the side and gesturing for Alizati to come in, so that he could have a look at the board on the couch table. He blinked, but otherwise didn’t show his surprise at Alizati’s next sentence. “Why do you find it pertinent to talk to me about your family?”

Alizati stepped into the room and walked to the sofa to sit down. Dark mechanical eyes shook ever so slightly as he focused on the board. Who's turn was it again? It seemed that bit of detail may have been lost in his update. Information gets lost or buried, he would have to do some internal memory cleaning. "Because I would be lying to you if I didn't. I have recently found out that I am half Romulan and am related to that reporter from the press conference, Lalisa T'Kota," He told Remun, no emotion in his voice just speaking the facts. "I have lied to you about being fully Vulcan, which is why I am telling you this now."

Remun listend with an inexpressive face and sat down opposite from Alizati. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at the android. Half Romulan? Related to T’Kota? “I… see,” said Remun smoothly, eyes never leaving the Lieutenant Commander. “It is curious you might say this, as T’Kota came to question me about Renakir and she seemed intrigued when I mentioned that I knew you. How exactly are you half Romulan?” Not to be spacist or anything, but androids didn’t usually have any particular species. When Alizati had told Remun that he was fully Vulcan, Remun took it to mean that Alizati had grown up with Vulcan values, just like Remun himself had done. He didn’t quite understand what being half Romulan meant for Alizati. (edited)

"Oh, did she?" Alizati was surprised to hear that Lalisa and Remun had met. He knew she had interviewed a number of people he was associated with, but Remun. And she asked about his roommate? Something in his gut felt off. Strange-- he had never experienced any gut feeling until now. Vulcans relied only on logic, was this a Romulan thing? "I was created to be modelled after another man who had passed away," No need to mention he was literally made to be an android lover. "I had the man's memories implanted into my mind and thus was expected to continue his life. Living in his shadow was unfulfilling and limited my own growth so I locked his memories away, deletion was impossible," He explained with his eyes fixed on the board. "The man's name was Jarok, hence my name Alizati Dzharok. He was half Vulcan half Romulan, however at my creation I was supposed to be full Vulcan. Upon learning Jarok has living relatives I brought his memories back in hopes of passing on my knowledge to his next of kin. I am not Jarok, but it would be a disservice to leave his relatives in the dark about their family history."

Remun listened closely, head tilted ever so slightly. “I believe that sounds… logical.” He nodded. It was interesting to hear Alizati’s story. Ever since they had met, Remun had frequently imagine what it would be like to be an android, rely on codes and not emotions, on reliably numbers instead of unpredictable cravings and feelings. It sounded nice to him. But, upon hearing all that, Remun thought that perhaps Alizati’s life was not as simple as Remun imagined it to be. It had to feel strange being… a copy. Was that what he was in many people’s eyes? A copy of another man? Remun blinked thoughtfully and finally he reached out for a Kal-Toh rod and place it into the sphere. “Thank you for telling me.” Oh wow, what up, Remun T’Lauk has manners. Who woulda thought?

"I value your trust as an equal," Alizati stated, the most Vulcan way to call someone a friend but he was bad at socialisation and friends. "Many Vulcans have thought I was illogical for my choice in hair colour and style, but now that you know I did it to separate myself from my predecessor I am sure you can understand the logic," Alizati said, also realising by giving himself forehead ridges he was going against that logic. In his defence he had made the cosmetic change before the memory unlocking-- had he waited perhaps he wouldn't have made the switch so soon. He watched as Remun picked up one of the small metal rods and placed it onto the sphere. The device changed and shifted into a slightly more symmetrical shape. A bold move, but Alizati knew there was certain an equally strong counter. He picked up one of the rods and turned it in his fingers as he contemplated his counter strike. "On a different matter, I assume you will remain on the base? Did you not want to visit home?" Alizati asked, sure that Remun of all people would want to visit his family. Alizati debated going to see Sorn as well, but now that all this with Lalisa came up he had decided it was much more important to visit his Romulan family.

’An equal’. It was nice to be seen that way, found Remun. Few people really saw him as an equal, he supposed. His logic never seemed to match that of other Vulcans, much less his appearance, and nor did his social skills (or rather the lack thereof) help him fit in anywhere else. Equal. So, Alizati and him were equals. That was nice. Comfortable. Logical. “No,” said Remun simply in reply to the android’s question and he waited for the next move. “It did not feel pertinent. I have not seen my parents in a long time, yet that is not enough of a logical reason for me to visit them. I can continue my meditation and work on the base, I have no need to return to Vulcan.” Even though he kind of missed the place, he found that sentimentality was too illogical. He simply didn’t have a logical reason to go.

Alizati placed his piece on the side of the sphere, finally figuring out a good counter. It was a decent move, not the best but if his predictions were right, Remun would play a his trap. Like a spider baiting its pray-- wait that was most certainly a Romulan strategy. "As Vulcans we do not form many strong relationships in our lifetime. We don't engage in small talk and even our marriages are arranged. It is only logical that we put even more care into maintaining the few relationships we have over our lifetime. As you are unmarried with no children, currently your closest relationships are your parents and your roommate," Alizati explained, his eyes looking up to meet Remun's. He spoke calmly and slowly, speaking each Vulcan word slowly. He still spoke like a native, after all Dzharok spoke Vulcan too. "If not your parents perhaps you could join me on Mol'Rihan, I hear my family name is quite prestigious and I am eligible for Romulan citizenship."

Remun held a rod between his fingers. Though his eyes were fixed concentratedly on the game’s sphere, his mind was elsewhere. Alizati might be right. His closest relationships had to be maintained, had they not? But were they really close? His parents, Renakir… Renakir, Renakir, Renakir. How close were they? It was odd, but now that Alizati mentioned it, he felt like he was closer to Renakir and Alizati than he was to his own parents. “You are… the second person to invite me to Mol’Rihan now,” he said carefully.

"Who was the first?" Alizati asked, his dark eyes focuses on Remun. If he were just 'Alizati' perhaps he wouldn't have weaved any theories, but as Alizati Dzharok his mind first thought of Renakir. The grey skinned boy with the sunglasses and sharp teeth. Those were the two traits that always came to mind, probably because that's the first thing he saw when they met. Remun's roommate was very hostile towards Alizati, but it was to be expected as Alizati was an android.

Remun didn’t hesitate to answer. Why would he keep secrets from Alizati, whom he trusted to be logical, no matter the fact that he was half Romulan. “My roommate, Renakir Torre’vnau,” he said simply. He looked down, placing the rod into the sphere. Distracted by Mol’Rihan and Renakir and everything else, he did indeed fall into Alizati’s Kal-Toh trap. Oops. There were simply too many things on his mind for him to focus on the game. If Alizati was half Romulan, and yet Vulcan, then perhaps… perhaps he would understand. Remun desperately needed someone to talk to about his internal conflict. And for the first time in ages, he actually considered someone a trustworthy ~~friend~~ equal. “Lieutenant Commander,” he said, trying not to make it sound shy, “May I call you Alizati? I would… Since you have shared something about yourself, I would find it logical to share something about myself as well.” Translation: I need a friend who’ll listen to my troubles, because I am a lonely bitch.

So his theory was correct. Now his mind was trying to make heads or tails of the two's relationship. Renakir called Remun Takov and also seemed to be rather friendly with him. To no one's surprise the Orion boy seemed to want to keep himself distant from the other, but Alizati couldn't help but wonder if there was something else he was concealing. Another plus of Dzharok's memories was his intuition and ability read people. It was a skill especially strong in Romulans, especially Dzharok who was raised mostly by a Romulan. "I see," He said in response to the other, he blinked a couple times when his vision began to blur from the shaking. "Yes, you may," Alizati did not show it on his face but to hear the other wanted to address him as Alizati and not the Vulcan name Dzharok was... Satisfying. As if it were some sort of validation of all of his experiences and individuality. He was not Dzharok or Jarok, he had lived his life as himself, Alizati. If only he wasn't so Vulcan, perhaps he would be able to tell people he much preferred to be addressed by his first name. However that would be illogical. A name was a name and both names were equal, logically. "You may share anything you'd like with me," Is this how you made friends? Alizati placed his hands on his knees and looked at Remun. Perfect posture, dark eyes just a little bit shiner than organic ones under the light.

Remun’s eyes scanned the other man. He scanned him for signs of judgement. Ironic, yes, that Remun would be afraid of judgement when he was the most judgmental person on the whole goddamn starbase. But the truth was that Remun had grown up being judged all his life. He was so used to judgement that he’d adopted judgmental behavior himself. Like some kind of protection. Right now though, he was begging to be understood. Not judged, not evaluated, not dismissed, not helped - simply to be understood was all that he wanted. For once, he wanted to be honest, and not just honest about facts, but about his internal thoughts. “Perhaps you are the right person to speak to about this,” started Remun, careful to keep his tone of voice cool and smooth and logical. “Seeing as you are both Vulcan and know what it is like to follow Surak’s teachings, and Romulan, a species who is more free in their expression of emotions, you might be able to… understand me. You see, recently many things have been troubling my mind. I have been so preoccupied that it is difficult for me to find sleep, and even meditation helps only to an extent.”

Alizati could feel the other's gaze on him. Odd, he had never felt such a feeling before. Was this the Romulan paranoia again? He knew unlocking Dzharok's memories would introduce new emotions, but the worsening paranoia was... Troubling, to say the least. He looked at the Vulcan-raised Orion boy, eyes shaking, yet not a single hint of emotion in his stare. He was not going to let his new-found paranoia triumph over his android logic. Just like an organic Vulcan, he would need to consciously focus energy on suppressing emotions. In line with logic, Alizati never had a problem changing his perception or methods in light of new information. In fact that was the very concept of machine learning. Being able to change one's actions in response to one's environment was never difficult for him. Whether it be changing how one calibrates sensors to account for a lag or addressing someone by a different name when hearing they had a preference. It was normal, but why did hearing, 'you are both Vulcan and Romulan' feel off to him? Was he experiencing imposter sydrome? The feeling that the person others perceive you as is different from how you perceive yourself? Did he somehow feel unworthy to be treated as someome of mixed birth when he had lived his whole (android) life as a Vulcan? Unfortunately for him this split second of identity crisis showed in the way the corners of his eyes twitched ever so slightly when the other spoke. "What sort of things have been troubling you?" Was the logical thing to ask. The emotionless monotone of his voice breaking ever so slightly at the end of his setence. He sounded concerned for his... Friend.

Remun was too busy minding his own identity crisis to even notice the little twitch of Alizati’s eyes. In fact, he was just glad that Alizati wasn’t immediately brushing him off, or something. The hint of… was that concern in his voice? Remun didn’t know how to process or interpret it. He simply kept talking, answering, “I have been… feeling.” Scandalous! Feelings. Emotions. Remun didn’t even keep going, that sentence alone was scary. He folded his hands in his lap, green knuckles going a lighter shade of green as he clenched around his own fingers. This was difficult for him, clearly. He did not know how to… open up. Was that what he was doing? Trying to open up to someone? Was he looking for advice, maybe? Or just some sort of validation? Was it selfish of him to come to Alizati with his problems? Perhaps. Perhaps he should stop right then and there. Perhaps this was something he needed to deal with himself. But… he had tried to do that. He’d trying to figured these feelings out by himself, alone with his meditation, but it hadn’t worked. It was continuing to not work. Perhaps he really needed someone.

'I have been feeling', big same, a small voice inside his mind said when the other spoke. He was not going to say that, of course, he was Vulcan... And starting to feel a little Romulan as well. He folded his hands on his lap, his posture still unchanged from earlier. "What have you been feeling?" Was the most logical response he could think of. He wondered if all of the years of feeling different in Vulcan society were finally getting to the boy. Now with Dzharok's memories, Alizati understood thst feeling now more than ever. He knew what it felt to be seen a science experiment, a strange new thing to prod and shake. Then he knew what it felt like to be an outsider, to look different from his peers. There was a glint of sadness reflected in his gaze for a second-- loneliness. "It is natural to feel, I will not judge you."

If Remun were better at reading people, he might have recognised that glint in Alizati’s eyes. He might have recognised that it was the same loneliness he saw every day in the mirror. But as it was, Remun was bad at reading people and even worse at talking about his feelings. He was just relieved to hear that Alizati was not judging him. “I have been feeling uncertain,” said Remun carefully. His line of sight fell back down at the game sphere between them. If only his life were as easy as a game of Kal-Toh. “Recently, I seem to find myself insufficient. You know I have been working on a security algorithm. And yet, while I was trying to make the comms networks more secure, the comms lines were hacked. I can not help but feel… like I was not fast enough. My meditation, too, seems insufficient. More often than not, I find myself getting emotionally compromised. Especially in Renakir’s presence,” he admitted it to Alizati and simultaneously to himself for the first time, “I do not understand myself. It is as though I am a stranger to my own mind. Renakir has made me realise how… alone I am.”

Alone. Alizati's vision went dark for a split second, only having his thoughts to comfort him. Diagnostic. Yes, that was the solution. He ran an internal systems diagnostic that only took a second to complete and then he was able to think of a proper response to Remun's troubles. "It is only natural to look back on past events and imagine the 'what ifs'. Even androids have imperfect information and we cannot account for every possible scenario," Alizati was back to his normal emotionless Vulcan self. Speak Vulcan with a fellow countryman felt normal. They were equals after all, right? "To feel emotionally compromised in the presence of your roommate," Alizati began to speak, his Vulcan words as smooth and calm as ever. And then his next words were spoken in standard high Rihannsu,"You desire his companionship. I cannot tell you what sort of companionship that is, but you are describing a feeling I sympathise with. I have never thought about companionship until I met the owner of Surak Snacks, Men. He made me realise what it means to need another person. Beyond the obvious needs such as a child needing a parental figure, or someone in need of a medical caretaker. A need more abstract, an emotional need." Despite the very obvious change in language, the android engineer's tone did not change.

His first words were comforting to Remun. Even an android couldn’t have accounted for what happened. Yes, that gave him some much needed validation. Alizati’s next words surprised Remun. They confused him, not only because of the change in language. Rihannsu reminded him of Renakir. And they were talking about Renakir. “I… see. And yet, I fail to understand. This… desire is illogical. Your sympathy is illogical. Surak himself said that the only noble desire is the desire to help others. I thought I was following the teachings when I helped Renakir study Vulcan and bake, but… I realise now that I was doing it for selfish reasons. Not because I wanted to help, but because I wanted to help him.” It was a shameful thing to admit and Remun avoided Alizati’s eyes. “I can not comprehend this feeling. And I continue to fail. I continue to fail to suppress it. I believe that I continue to push Renakir away and though that is not what I want, I feel that it is pertinent. Alone protects me. This feeling of attachment makes me vulnerable.” Speaking in Rihannsu, it was a bit easier to admit all of this. Vulcan was not made to talk about feelings. Rihannsu, on the other hand, lent itself to the purpose.

He did not even notice the language switch until he heard Rihannsu spoken back to him. He showed his surprise this time, furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. "It is logical to feel symapthy towards a person who has had the same experience as I have had. Your desire to help your roommate-- baking was it? Studying Vulcan. Bonding with someone you spend a lot of time with is not illogical, what is illogical is denying your feelings and not embracing who you truly are," Alizati did not even realise he was leaning forward and quickly straightened his posture back up. He seemed surprised at his own words, embracing emotions? Was this him speaking or was it Dzharok? Was there even a separation between the two anymore? "It sounds like he desires the same with you if he calls you Takov and agrees to bake and learn your native language. And to hear that he has invited you to his home to see him and his family, he certainly values your companionship. It would be illogical to give up this chance. I was in your position once and it cost me my life. Instead of embracing who I truly was, I pushed others away and in their resentment our relationship turned from agreeable to hostile,"He was speaking as Dzharok now, the memories of the shuttle incident, the arguments he would have with his daughter. Everything was as clear as day to him, he had all the answers and he did not want Remun to suffer how he did.

“Embrace who I am?”, repeated Remun in confusion. There was a pause. His brain paused as well. Who even was Remun? He was Orion and yet Vulcan. He was the guy who always wanted to be perfect, always struggled to please the universe’s need for perfection. He wanted to be logical, but… was that really what he wanted? Was that really who he was in truth? Or was it just what he had been taught? And who was Remun, if not the sum of all things that had been taught to him? “I cannot embrace something that does not align with the teachings of Surak.” It was as if suddenly all the doors shut, his face was closed off and he returned to his native Vulcan language. “Perhaps I miscalculated and I might want to consult a full Vulcan about this. That is all, Alizati. We may return to the game now. It is your turn.” Oof. Back to suppression.

‘I miscalculated and I might want to consult a full Vulcan about this', Alizati froze and he stared at Remun. His mechanical eyes became glassy as a thin layer of moisture covered them. Without any warning Alizati stood up, nearly knocking his knees against the table. Every bit of logic left in his mechanical brain was working overtime as his body temperature rose. What he was doing was illogical, but he felt as if he had lost control of any system that could bring him to sit back down and pretend like nothing ever happened. "Kal-toh is a Vulcan game. I believe you will find more success playing with a full Vulcan opponent," He did not sound angry, in fact, his voice had the same level of calm as usual. He turned on his heels and walked himself right out te door. He had nothing more to say to Remun. He had thought he found a friend, someone who understood the tornado of emotions that ran through his mind. They were different, yet similar. Both strangers in their own cultures but they had never known anything else. Full Vulcan. As if being Romulan somehow made his opinion less valuable. He'd heard that many times, Dzharok had heard that many times. As soon as he was out the door he rubbed his eyes that were still shaking and tried to regain his Vulcan composure. Dzharok was a mistake, he was a mistake.

Remun couldn’t react fast enough, couldn’t stop the man, couldn’t even find it in him to go after Alizati. Once again, Remun was alone. As always. That was just what he did, wasn’t it? Pushing people away. He was so very good at that! Remun felt his throat close up. His hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking? Why was he so alone? Why had he said all those things?! Anger and self hatred and desperation got the best of him. Someone screamed and it took him a full moment to realise that it was himself who was screaming. With an angry motion, he swept the Kal-Toh board off the table. It landed on the ground with a metallic sound of clattering as the rods rolled all over the place and the sphere malfunctioned. Stupid Vulcan game! Stupid game of logic! He didn’t need a game of logic, his whole life was one goddamn pitiful game of logic! Remun felt tears in his eyes, rolling down his cheek. Disbelief. He reached up to touch his face, feel the wetness. When was the last time he’d cried? Years. Years and years… as a child, a baby maybe. No, no, this couldn’t be; he couldn’t be falling apart; he wasn’t allowed to fall apart! This would always happen. Remun sat on the couch, sobbing softly into his hands and he thought about how this would always happen. He would always push people away. There was no use in going after Renakir or Alizati or his parents. He would always push all of them away and hurt them in the end. So it was better not to let anyone get close in the first place, he decided, tears staining his Vulcan robes like traces of shame.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of betrayal of Surak, Remun managed to stop crying. His hands and face were wet. He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself, combed his hair, smoothed out his robes, straightened his spine. Maybe if he created the illusion of order on the outside, it would lend itself to him on the inside as well. The room was too big and too quiet without Renakir. He wanted to leave, and though that was impulsive and driven by emotion, he found himself going out the door.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

Takov, hope you're having a nice shore leave. I wanted to message you to tell you you're still Takov and you're still welcome to Mol'Rihan. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Renakir, I will not be visiting Mol’Rihan. I have decided to visit my parents on Vulcan. Nevertheless I thank you for the invitation. - Remun T’Lauk

(edited)

13:47

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

P.S. I fail to comprehend your obsession with my appearance.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

You're actually going to Vulcan!? Good, you need some rest. I'm on the run atm

if you hear any news reports of a runaway boy on Mol'Rihan don't worry I'm fine. - Renakir rennieglasses

ps. I wish you were here so I could run away with you and show you the nice scenery of my new home planet

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Worry is illogical, as is suspicion, but the sentences ‘I’m on the run’ and ‘I’m fine’ are quite incompatible in my understanding of the universe. Would you care to explain?

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

I just need to clear my head, that's all. I just don't want my family to know where I am. don't worry I'm with a friend, and Eshen is here too. I kinda miss speaking Vulcan with you. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

I see. I can not relate to the feeling of missing someone, but I must admit that our quarters are unfamiliarly quiet without your presence. Perhaps you would like to communicate in written Vulcan? - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

? *~

- Renakir

Remun’s reply was also in Vulcan, but the role player was unable to format it so nicely. [PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

I will be cooking with my mother, and talking to my father. Who is with you, Renakir? You spoke of a friend. - Remun T’Lauk

Renakir had to re-read his roommate's message a couple times until he was able to discern the Vulcan words. His reading wasn't too bad, but it was evident he had a much better grasp on speaking and listening. Vulcan and Rihannsu script were worlds apart whereas the spoken language had a lot of similar words. [PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

. ℑ

, ℑ'

. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Try not to do anything stupid. For your own sake. - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

ℑ

. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Good. - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

ℑ

? - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

You are being ridiculous. Neither of us is married. It is simply a fact that I do not put it past you to do something stupid, and I would like to at least have warned you. So that I can tell you ‘I told you so’ later. And it would be a pity if you were to not return from Mol’Rihan. - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

You have no way of knowing what my hair looks like right now. - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

ℑ

. ℑ

. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Missing me is illogical. I can offer this, though. [attachment: photo_15.47.png] - Remun T’Lauk

Attached was a selfie of Remun. He was stone faced as always, completely expressionless and he was illuminated by bright reddish light. His black hair was as always perfect and parted in the middle. In the background, a wonderful garden with mostly shrub like plants and cacti could be seen. The ground was otherwise sandy and there was a house with large windows in the back. The red sky reflected in the glass and in Remun’s cognac coloured eyes.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

ｌ

๔.

[attachment: fidjgiodjd.jpg] - Renakir rennieglasses

Unfortuntely Renakir was not in a particularly interesting area and just sent Remun a photo of his hand holding a macaron. Grey fingers with black nails delicately holding the dessert. As for the message contents, it was clear his Vulcan vocabulary, Vulcabulary if you will, was terrible and he did not know many higher level words.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

What is that sustenance you are consuming? - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

ℜ

. ℑ

. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

Calling a dessert a ‘dude’ is highly illogical terminology. - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

. [attachment: ifogjofivbsf.jpg] - Renakir rennieglasses

And attached was a picture of the same Macaron, but it seemed Renakir had scratched a faitn little face into it with one of his sharp nails. That was literally the only good use of his stupid Reman claws.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

How old are you again? - Remun T’Lauk

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

Being awake for over a week straight is decending my mind into chaos, Takov. I had two different children try to pull my hair, one asked why my skin was soft if I'm made of rock. - Renakir rennieglasses

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

An illogical question from the child. Though I am rather unfamiliar with the concept, people tend to say that shore leaves are meant to be used for relaxation. Your week does not sound very relaxing. Perhaps you should try to seek out a place of more calmness. - Remun T’Lauk

To: Lt. JG Remun T'Lauk From: Lt. JG Renakir

I'm trying. I am gonna go home soon though. I hope you're doing alright. [attachment: ogjhodroisvsj.jpg] Goodnight. - Renakir rennieglasses

Renakir sent Remun another photo of his hand holding the Macaron, but this time it was held up towards the night sky, replacing the moon.

[PADD] To: Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau From: Lt. JG. Remun T’Lauk

I am not unwell. Do not worry. I do not think that your hands look like they are made of stone. That child was incorrect. - Remun T’Lauk

Shore leave was over and Renakir was settling back into his familiar room. Compared to his fancy estate on Mol'Rihan, his quarters were quite bare with minimal decorations. In the four corners of his room he kept his Zhal Makh lanterns he used for meditation. Things had been slow in his absence, but that was to be expected as most people were living their holiday to the fullest. Likewise, Renakir had a fulfilling shore leave. He settled things with his father, got the Akuvek case settled, and was even able to get a new engagement. Being from the Torre'vnau house a marriage arrangement was one of the many duties he had as Cerrub's only child. While most people would see an arranged marriage as archaic, it was still a common practice amongst the Romulan elite and Renakir was no different. He was unsurprised when he saw he had a message from his newly betrothed, his ex-fiance's adopted brother, another fellow hybrid. It was quite convenient that Valleka had a brother and even more convenient that he was mixed like Renakir was, although unlike Renakir this new fiance was certainly more Reman than Romulan in culture. Kianarix's letter was written in simple Rihannsu, which was unsurprising for a boy who had literally only just learned how to read. At least unlike Valleka, Kianarix had a trusted partner on Mol'Rihan who could help him, his partner was also coincidentally the same person handling the Akuvek case. Small galaxy, he thought. After reading the letter, Renakir decided it would be best to think about a reply as he munched a baguette so out into the common area he went! As always, Renakir was dressed only in his starfleet shorts with the rest of his body exposed. He held a PADD in his hand and walked over to the replicator to get his usual, "Toasted baguette, Romulan ale."

Remun was in his personal quarters, lost in deep meditation. His room was equally sparse, decorated only by a single meditation lamp and a Vulcan cacti plant that had been given to him by the only person he had ever called friend, a Vulcan at the Academy. They had fallen out of touch, but the plant was still thriving. Remun didn’t hear Renakir in the common room, too focused on Surak-ing away his emotions. Eventually, though, the Orion got hungry and he got up from the floor of his quarters, heading towards the common room. The doors slid open to reveal Remun in a plain black t-shirt and black leggings. His hair was as always falling perfectly and his posture was straight as an arrow. His face was as stoic as ever, but also… tired. He looked tired, dark green shadows underneath his reddish brown eyes. “Renakir,” he said as he spotted his Romulan-Reman roommate (hehe, RRR) in the common room. Perhaps Remun was pleased to see Renakir, maybe annoyed, maybe indifferent. It was impossible to tell, with his stone faced expression. “Do you wish to use the common room? I can eat in my quarters.” Oddly considerate of him to say that. But that was because he understood the wish to be alone. And he also understood the wish to not be alone. Maybe better than anyone else.

Renakir was rubbing his eyes, content in the darkness of the common room when the blackness was interrupted by a very bright ray of light. His first reflex was to pat the sides of his shorts to grab his sunglasses, but alas he had left them in his room. A soft thud was heard as his PADD dropped to the floor in his attempts to locate the glasses that were not there, causing him to make very a very distresed grunting noise. "Remun," He finally managed to speak after fishing around on the ground for his PADD with his eyes shut tightly. "No no, you can eat here," Renakir inhaled sharply as he tried to ignore the pain. To think just a tiny spark of light could create such pain made him feel extremely weak. Remans were a warrior race, but just one trickle of light put him out of commission.

Remun watched Renakir fumble for his glasses in the dimness. He suddenly felt bad for entering and letting the light in. And then he noticed that Renakir had said ‘Remun’ and not ‘Takov’ and it made him feel strangely… seen. Weird. Illogical. “You should get you glasses first,” said Remun, “And I will get a pullover.” And then he turned around to do just that, because when the two of them wanted to share the common room and sit together, they needed to compromise - Renakir needed his glasses, Remun needed his warm clothes. The door slid shut behind Remun again, plunging the common room back into darkness.

There was a soft rustling of bare feet against the carpetted floor as Renakir made his way back to his quarters to grab his sunglasses. He put them on quickly and grabbed a box that laid beside his desk. He placed his PADD on top of the box and then returned to the common area. "Computer, lights, 15%, temperature 10 C," He commanded and made his way to the sofa. He plopped the box down on the soft cushions and placed his PADD on the table. At this point his bread and ale were probably cold so he re-ordered his food and grabbed the baguette and glass once it materialised. He carried the food over to the sofa and plopped his little grey butt down, waiting for his roommate to return.

Remun didn’t take too long. When her entered again, he was wearing a grey sweater that suited him well, though it was a boring outfit. He looked at Renakir briefly, noted that he was half naked as always, tried to ignore it, looked at the baguette, thought about telling Renakir not to make a crumbly mess again, decided to do it. “I would be grateful if you were to try not to spread crumbs everywhere,” he said, as if he didn’t have better things to worry about. The Orion then went to the replicator and ordered, “Plomeek soup, hot; glass of water, cold.” After taking both out of the replicator, Remun sat down on the couch opposite from Renakir and set the bowl and the glass down on the table with a soft clack. The bowl was warm against his green fingertips, a nice contrast to the cool air in the room, and it reminded him of his shore leave. Contrary to Renakir’s, Remun’s shore leave hadn’t exactly been… fulfilling.

Renakir had no comments to his roommate's 'friendly' reminder about the crumbs. He knew exaclty how the Vulcan boy felt about him getting crumbs everywhere and in a weird way, he actually missed the other's nagging. Plomeek soup and water, yep his everyday was certainly back to normal. What would they bicker about today? Would Remun just give him the silent treatment again? Well, before Remun even had a chance to say anything, Renakir decided to take initiative and say, "I have a gift for you." Renakir put his ale and bagette down on the table as he gestured towards the small box. "I told him about our common area arrangement and him and my Reman family prepared something since you weren't able to visit Mol'Rihan," Although Renakir did not see the true nature of his and Remun's relationship, Cerrub and Onusuk certainly did. They were both very perceptive men who seemed to know Renakir better than anyone else at times. Inside the box was a pair of handmade epohh plush slippers, soft and warm, dark blue in colour with little antennae. In the box was also a handmade Reman blanket very similar to the one Renakir had lent Remun weeks ago when the boy had fallen asleep on the sofa.

Remun’s reaction was a slight raising of his left eyebrow. He was surprised. Why would Renakir give him a gift? This was no special occasion after all. Remun decided not to complain, though. He looked down at the box and carefully pulled it towards himself with his green fingers. He wondered what was inside, but didn’t open it yet. “Him?”, he asked. “Who are you referring to?”

"My father," Renakir said as he picked up his glass of ale and began to sip it slowly. Synthol, but it still had the same taste as the real stuff. He looked at Remun, wanting to see his roommate's reaction to the gift. He knew about the epohh slippers, but the blanket was going to be a surprise. "He expressed desire to meet you," Renakir stated, conveniently leaving out that it was because his father suspected him and Remun were.... 'Roommates'.

Remun didn’t want to be suspicious, because it made him feel like Renakir was rubbing off on him, but he wondered why in the name of Surak Renakir’s father would express desire to meet him?! What logical reason did he have? “I see. I likely will not be able to visit Mol’Rihan in the future, there is work and some… personal matters that need attending to,” said Remun and didn’t really sound apologetic about it. He finally looked down at the present. He opened it with something that looked like carefulness, but it was actually just his undying desire for everything to be extremely neat. When he saw the epohh slippers, he reached inside the box to get them out, both eyebrows minimally raised. “A… interesting choice. Certainly they will be useful with how cold the floor in this room often is,” said Remun and was that him liking the gift or was it him criticizing Renakir’s temperature preferences? We’ll never know. But then Remun set the shoes down on the floor and slipped inside (he was wearing socks), so it seemed like he enjoyed the present. He then looked at the box again, finding another thing. Putting his hands inside, he found a soft blanket, similar to the one that Renakir had lent him once. A warm shine came to Remun’s eyes, giving away his awe. “This is very beautiful and very useful,” he said, his tone cold and inexpressive, but a little less harsh than usual as he felt the blanket between his fingers and pulled it out of the box.

Renakir watched as Remun opened the box, choosing to ignore the 'personal matters' he mentioned. For now he wanted to focus on-- his roommate's green fingers as he lifted the box open, the look on his face as two very wiggly antennae poked up at him. As expected, the Orion's visible reaction was underwhelming to say the least, but after living together for a few months now Renakir had learned to listen to Remun's words. 'The will be useful with how cold the floor is', now if that wasn't a Vulcan sign of gratitude he didn't know what was. Renakir tried not to grin as he watched as his roommate slid his feet into the very adorable epohh slippers. Now the next item was a surprise. A blanket? Onusuk must have made it, Renakir thought. As emotionless as Remun was trying to be, his eyes gave it all away and that made Renakir grin from ear to ear. To see his roommate holding up a blanket his Reman father made brought him so much joy, he didn't even realise he probably looked very terrifying with all his sharp teeth shining under the light. "My father-- my uncle Onusuk made it. He's loves making crafts," Renakir said, quickly realising his teeth were visible and turned his head and chugged the rest of his ale in an attempt to hide his teeth from Remun.

Remun caught the grin, caught sight of the pointy teeth. The Vulcan-raised Orion didn’t usually approve of such open displays of emotion. He didn’t care about the teeth, didn’t find them scary or appalling. However, the grin, such an emotional thing to do… Remun couldn’t bring himself to disapprove of it. He found it oddly… endearing. No, that was illogical. He told himself he was just emotionally compromised because of the engagement and because he was holding a wonderful present in his hands. How long had it been since he’d last gotten a present? A long time. He couldn’t even remember. With measured movements, minding the soup on the table, he took the blanket completely out of the box and lay it around his shoulders. He looked adorable, with the slippers and the blanket, all bundled up. He’d probably dislike being called adorable, though. “It is very warm. Give your uncle my thanks,” he said, carefully slid the box aside and picked up the spoon. He was looking down at the bowl of soup when he added, “This is a… pleasant surprise, Renakir.” It was said with the tone of a man who hadn’t had a lot of pleasant surprises in the past years.

It was a good thing he was half Romulan and thus gifted with photographic memory thanks to the 'wonderful' Romulan education system, because he could burn the image of Remun cuddled in the blanket into his mind. The fluffy epohh slippers and beautifully crafted grey blanket somehow made his typically stiff and cold roommate look just a little bit softer. "It pleases me to see you looking so soft, Takov," He tried his best not to sound too happy, but Remun looked so cute. To keep himself from staring he picked up his baguette and proceeded to nibble slowly, careful not to expose his teeth to the other.

“I would rather not,” said Remun decisively and started eating. Looking soft was pretty unacceptable, but what could he do. Remun was very conflicted, because a part of him wanted to say that it’s illogical and he isn’t soft at all, and then a part wanted to simply not care about Renakir’s opinion or Renakir in general, and then a part of him really kind of enjoyed the compliment. Damn. What to do? He ate a few spoons of plomeek soup - not as good as his mother’s Pok Tar unfortunately - and then he said, “You should know someone will be visiting me soon. Possibly today, and for the time period of up to ten days.” Originally, T’Rama had been meant to stay in Remun’s quarters for that time. However, Remun didn’t exactly want to share a bed with her - engaged or not - unless he absolutely had to. It was illogical and he had asked her to book a guest room, had even offered to pay it for her. T’Rama had agreed. Their correspondence so far had been limited to the essentials. Neither of their PADD messages were ever really long or telling, but at least T’Rama seemed reasonable. (edited)

Renakir was content nibbling his baguette. He didn't much care that Remun seemed to reject his compliment, when had he ever replied with anything short of dismissal? The room fell silent all except for the soft clicking of Remun's spoon against the bowl or the muffled chewing noises as Renakir bit off small bits of the baguette. He was only halfway done when the Orion spoke up again. A visitor? Somehow that activated a weird fight or flight response from his brain, but this time he could successfully Surak such emotion away. 'Now that's what I call illogical', one of the greatest Vulcan hits. Anyway. "Who is this visitor?" He swallowed his bite of bread and spoke softly, voice stable and monotone.

“Her name is T’Rama N’Evran-Meng’tai,” said Remun and the last part of the name was such a complex combination of Vulcan sounds, it sounded completely alien. “She is…” There was a hesitation in his voice for no fathomable reason. It was like part of him didn’t want to tell Renakir. But he decided to get over himself. It was only logical to tell him if he wanted to know, why keep secrets? “…my fiancée.” Remun looked up from his soup to scan Renakir’s face for a second.

The Vulcan name sounded as alien as ever. Despite being a self proclaimed intermediate learner of the foreign language, the Romulan-Reman boy still struggled with the sound system. It was hard to believe Rihannsu and modern Vulcan originated from the same language. Fiancée, Renakir nearly dropped his baguette at the word. Remun had... Illogical feelings swirled in his mind and for a split second he thought he would drop dead right there. Romulans and Vulcans both practiced arranged marriages, even Renakir had lived most of his life with a betrothed. But why did this feel different? "Why?" Was the first word his mouth said, already light years ahead of his brain it seemed. He laid his half eaten baguette on the table and just stared at his roommate. It was a good thing his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses because if Remun could see his eyes-- well he'd see the loneliness, anxiety, and surprise all reflected in them.

Remun was bad at reading people, but for a moment he believed that he could sense some sort of surprise and maybe anxiety. The same feelings that he himself had suppressed when he’d gotten the news. A very very small sigh escaped his lips. He put his spoon down into the half-empty bowl, as if to sort himself out before he spoke. “It might not seem logical, since I do not experience Pon Farr,” he said, keeping his voice cool and stoic and smooth, even though internally he was far from that state, “However, you must understand that I am and always have been a substitute - a placeholder - in my family. My adoptive mother is unable to give birth due to a medical condition, but because T’Lauk wanted the family name and legacy to live on, they adopted me. Carrying on this legacy is my function.” Gee, he sounded like he was just some cog in a machine. “My parents believed that it was time now for me to get engaged. T’Rama has recently lost her husband to a lethal accident. She agreed to take me as her second husband, despite the fact that I am not Vulcan by blood.” He looked down at the soup and then reached for his glass of water, took a sip, before he added, “My parents are lucky that they have found someone in the first place.” Because really, who the hell would want him? Remun didn’t know. He was pretty sure that T’Rama didn’t actually want him either, but at least she seemed to be able to tolerate having an Orion husband. (edited)

Placeholder-- because his mother could not give birth. His parents adopted an Orion boy not out of the kindness of their hearts or sympathy for the situation, but because they wanted to continue their family name. Adoption. Kianarix, Renakir's new fiance, was also adopted. In a way, Renakir also felt as if he had been adopted, dropped into the arms of an unknown Romulan at the age of five. That was not to say he completely understood what it felt like to live around people who had no blood relation to you what so ever, but he wasn't entirely disconnected from the situation. He made a very, almost inaudible 'tch' click of his teeth when he said T'Rama's name again. Perhaps it was frustration or anger, but Renakir did not like the sound of this arrangement at all "Children are more than just carriers of DNA," An odd thing for someone who had been brought up in a world where political marital arrangements were common. In fact, it was a bit strange that Renakir had been engaged for so long yet never tied the knot himself. How he justified it in his mind was that his marriage was arranged, not forced. By the sound of it, Remun's marriage was forced. "When is the wedding?" He asked, trying not to sound bitter about the whole thing, but the way he crossed his arms and pulled his legs up on the sofa gave away everything.

Remun noticed the way Renakir crossed his arms, but was unsure how to read it. Subtle body language like that which would reveal a lot about someone’s emotions was simply not up his lane. Funnily enough, though Renakir was totally right and this was a forced marriage and Remun disliked it as much as his roommate, the Orion seemed completely calm. Almost as if he’d just accepted his fate. And maybe he had done just that. “Soon. In a few months’ time. A date has not yet been agreed upon.” He looked from Renakir to his soup and took another spoonful. It had gone cold by now. “Logically we need only be wed next year during T’Rama’s next Pon Farr, but my parents wish for the matter to be closed quickly.” Underneath all that Surak-following logic, Remun suspected that his parents were afraid - afraid that T’Rama might find someone else, someone better than Remun in the meantime. That’s why they were hurrying this, thought Remun. And he was probably right to think that, too. Another spoonful of cold soup; he kept avoiding Renakir’s eyes. Or maybe he wasn’t consciously avoiding eye contact, maybe he was just staring down at the table because he was caught up in his own thoughts.

A few months' time, that was soon, Renakir thought. "I see," Was the only logical thing Renakir could think of to say. He looked away from Remun, his eyes staring at his grey legs and wiggly toes. Unlike his hands, his feet were calloused from walking around barefoot all the time. It wasn't that he didn't have slippers, he had plenty of footware for all situations, but there was just something relaxing feeling his bare feet on the nice carpeted floors of his quarters. "Then I will tell you I have also obtained a new arrangement. With Valleka's brother, Kianarix. Two years my junior, he is also half Romulan half Reman. It is convenient my father was able to find another eligible member of the Rylov family for me," Renakir said, his voice as emotionless as ever as he said it. Unlike Remun, he was not disappointed in his arrangement. In fact, Kianarix seemed like a nice guy, although also unlike his roommate, he had no intention on getting married any time soon.

Remun blinked at the newly obtained information. He was unsure what to say to that, unfamiliar with talking about arranged marriages, or literally talking to anyone about personal matters such as this. The only thing he ended up saying was, “For your sake, may he be more mature in his behaviour than his sister is.” Yes, Remun was still judging Valleka for everything she’d said and done. Then, he returned his attention to the soup and his water. There was something in the back of his mind, a notion, that had been there ever since Renakir had asked when the wedding would be happening. It was a hypothetical. “Would you…” He didn’t finish the sentence, as illogical as it was to leave it hanging in the air like that, he didn’t seem to find the right words.

"As it stands, I do not have plans on getting married any time soon. My father has agreed to welcome him into our home to get him out of his abusive living situation," Renakir explained, also skillfully avoiding talking about how he believed Kianarix was horribly unfit for marriage. The fellow Romulan-Reman seemed to hav a good heart, but he was unemployed and illiterate. The sole heir of the Torre'vnau family had the privilege of choice and he was going to exercise that privlege by delaying the marriage as much as he could, just like with Valleka. And when he thought their conversation was over, his floppy ears twitched when Remun opened his mouth to speak once again. "Would I?" He turned his head to look at the other. It was not normal for Remun to fail to finish his sentences. A perfectionist like him always spoke with intention. Renakir was one to ramble, but not Remun. He narrowed his eyes, hidden behind dark shades, trying to discern what could possibly have been going on in the Orion's head.

Remun nodded, thought briefly about the fact that Renakir’s father seemed to be a very agreeable person. He almost regretted now that he hadn’t gone to Mol’Rihan. But regret was illogical. It was true, a perfectionist like Remun always laid out his sentences in advance before he spoke them. And now, he was going to finish what he’d been meaning to ask. “Would you hypothetically like to come to mine and T’Rama’s wedding ceremony?” He looked up to meet Renakir’s eyes, or rather his sunglasses. “It is customary for the man to be accompanied by acquaintances.” By his closest acquaintances, usually. But Remun didn’t have a lot of those, he just had his grey skinned roommate and the CEO who he had pissed off already. Not exactly a good track record.

"I would," Renakir replied, almost instantly. He hadn't even stopped to think about the implications of having a Romulan AND Reman at a Vulcan wedding ceremony. Completing the Vulcanoid trifecta? He could taste the bitterness of his own frustration for Remun's situation as he clicked his teeth again and he turned his gaze back down to his bare feet on the sofa. 'I would', yeah he would go to the ceremony alright. Renakir Solait, a Romulan, at a Vulcan ceremony. As long as his logical genetic cousins kept to themselves, he could do it. Or maybe he should ask Dion for more Surak Suggestions™️. "Vulcans are monogamous, aren't they?" He knew the answer was 'yes', but he hoped the question would remind Remun that Romulans and Remans were the opposite.

Relief and fear mixed behind Remun’s wall of Surak - relief, because Renakir had agreed and fear, because he didn’t know what this meant. He didn’t even know why Renakir had agreed. He only knew that he didn’t want to be alone during that wedding. An illogical thought, yes, of course he wouldn’t be alone, his parents would be there and T’Rama and her parents. But they felt like strangers. He’d feel alone in the crowd. Maybe not when Renakir was there… “The simple answer to that question is yes,” replied Remun and nodded. “The matter is more complex in that Vulcans - contrary to Romulans - are monogamous, because tradition and logic currently leads them to be so. If, for example, a disease were to kill many of the women in my home city, the council would propose each remaining woman take several men. For logical reasons.” He took a breath. “It is one aspect of Vulcan culture I am no expert in, though. I have never taken an interest in the Vulcan mating or marriage rituals, since they never affected me. Until now.”

"Logic. Of course, I understand," But it was illogical to promise yourself to only one person, wasn't it? He tried not to show his frustration with his roommate's rather restrictive Vulcan culture and instead just sighed and wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged them to his chest. "Romulans to marriages in three or more and historically have always been arranged to prevent mixing dirty blood," He said, gritting his teeth ever so slightly when he said the words. "It was how Romulans were able to keep their bloodline pure, but obviously such a goal is lost on me," He sighed and pushed his glasses back up onto his face. "... Anyway. I assume there is no other logical way for you to continue your lineage? You know, Romulans typically take the name of the matriarch or person who assumes the matriarch position," Renakir sat up and looked directly at Remun. Was he implying that.... No, no he was not saying anything like that. Renakir e-Torre'vnau Tr'T'Lauk, what a laugh that would be.

Was Renakir implying that Remun should marry a Romulan to have the family name live on? Was Renakir implying that… Oh, no, Remun was overthinking, his logical brain was reading too much into this. He quickly made his brain Stop That Shit and said, “I do not see why any other way of continuing the lineage should be more desirable. In any case, it is no longer up for me to decide.” He said that as if it ever had been for him to decide, even though it hadn’t been. “T’Rama will be arriving soon. I will meditate now,” he said, seemingly ending the conversation. He grabbed his empty bowl of soup and his glass and stood up - blanket and slippers still on him. He didn’t make a comment on the whole ‘dirty blood’ thing, because not only had he no idea what to say to that, it also hit a little too close to home.

Renakir did not say anything when his roommate excused himself to meditate. In fact he had expected Remun to leave sooner. The soft rustle of the slippers against the floor and the clicking of the spoon against the bowl filled the otherwise silent room. "Computer, lights off," Once Remun was gone, Renakir grabbed his now cold baguette and began eating at a normal speed. No more nibbling because there was no one to see his teeth. It was strange to him that him and Remun saw each other every day yet had no influence over each other's lives outside of their quarters. Sure Renakir was learning Vulcan, even bugged his poor friend Dion for practice or meditation tips, but aside from the few interactions here and there, their lives were very different. And yet so alike. After Renakir finished his bread he headed over to the replicator to recycle the silverware and headed back to his private quarters. He still had to write that letter back to Kianarix, but how does one write a letter to someone who can't read? Perhaps Lun or his father could help him, Renakir thought. As soon as he got into his bedroom he yeeted himself onto the bed and laid starfish mode. Too much to think about, maybe he should do his weekly sleeps. One breath in, one breath out, no Remun, no arranged marriages, just empty space... Remus, his mother clipping his hair, Tiravurik trying to pull him out of craters and mining shafts...

When Remun heard someone ringing the doorbell an hour later, he left his room and entered the common room. It was empty. Renakir was probably in his private room. “Computer, lights 80%, temperature at 20C,” he said and then went to open the door. He was dressed in plain dark brown Vulcan robes, he was stone faced as always.

So, this is it, thought T’Rama when the doors slid open to reveal her betrothed. It was strange, meeting someone in this context. Not because it was weird in general - no, it was quite logical and common amongst Vulcans - but because the last person she’d met in this context was now dead. It gave her a pang around her chest area. Her dark eyes swept up and down the Orion man, taking in his dress and the freckles on his skin. Remun looked even more emotionless than herself. Despite the fact that he was not Vulcan by blood, he appeared perfectly logical. Only his eyes seemed slightly too sharp. But who was she to talk? She knew exactly that she wasn’t able to hide her sadness completely behind the pitch black of her pupils. “Remun,” she said, her voice quiet as ever, “I am T’Rama.”

Remun stared at her for a second. It was surreal. He was tempted to judge her for that stray strand of black hair on her cheek, or that sad look in her eyes. But he found that it was a bit comforting to know she didn’t seem perfectly sorted out and logical. “Hello,” he said and his own voice seemed strangely cold to him. It was always cold, but somehow it felt wrong now, like it didn’t belong to him. “Come in.” T’Rama was beautiful by conventional standards. Silky hair, green flushed lips, delicate hands, tall built, slim body. But Remun had no regard for such things. Not even when it came to his own fiancée. He simply stepped aside and led T’Rama through the common room towards his private quarters. This meeting was already awkward enough and he could barely handle one social interaction at a time - he didn’t want Renakir walking in on them as well. He decided it was best to do this in his own quarters.

T’Rama looked over the sparse interior design of the quarters, wondered whether Remun really called this place his home. She wouldn’t be able to. That constant humming of the station, the knowledge of being in the middle of space, so far away from everything that she knew… No, it wasn’t for her. She followed Remun to what she supposed would be his own quarters. A part of her was scared of this conversation. Another part of her was just resigned.

Remun strained slightly as they entered his room together. He hadn’t let anyone inside of his personal quarters ever before. He liked having his own space. But… well, he was supposed to share now, wasn’t he? He glanced at the woman who was soon to be his wife. “Shall we sit down?”

His voice was so much more harsh and empty than her own. She wondered if she would ever get used to it. She looked at the bed and nodded. “Yes.” She sat down on the edge, folding her hands in her lap. She felt out of place, as illogical as that sounded.

Remun took a steadying breath and sat down as well. There was half an arm’s length of distance between the two of them. It reminded him of the fact that he would be expected to touch this woman, and it made him cringe internally. He looked over at T’Rama. “I suppose you have questions.” That was how you got to know a person, right? Ask them questions. What kind of questions? Remun had no idea.

T’Rama looked at him, meeting his eyes. They were much more emotional than the rest of his face, and they were oddly beautiful. She looked at his hands, resting on the edge of the bed. “Have you ever been in a relationship, Remun?” (edited)

“No,” responded Remun plainly, “This is entirely new to me.” It made his shoulders strain, but he admitted, “I am not good at such things. I have never taken an interest in social interaction, much less intimacy.”

T’Rama nodded. He was just as distant and cold as he seemed, then. She couldn’t decide whether that was an advantage or a disadvantage. “I presume you have never mind melded with anyone, then.”

Remun blinked, his lips parted for a reply, but he hesitated. Was she… asking to mindmeld with him? Already? Finally, he shook his head. “No, I have not.” (edited)

She looked at him for a long moment.

Remun thought about the fact that her eyes looked… sad. He wasn’t good at noticing such things, but he noticed this. It was illogical of course. But then again, she had just lost her husband. And she had to marry Remun now. That was enough of a reason to be illogically sad.

Her next words were carefully considered. She didn’t find Remun friendly or approachable or appealing, despite the fact that he was handsome. And yet, she knew that the two of them would have to make peace with one another. Knowing each other’s minds would be a good first step. “Would you like to try? It would make familiarisation easier,” she said, and shifted slightly to turn towards him.

A zap of anxiety shot through him, probably visible in his reddish brown eyes. He disliked giving away too much of his thoughts or hidden emotions. He didn’t want to share things that he hadn’t carefully considered and put into words beforehand. He was a perfectionist and never wanted to appear anything short of perfect - which, unfortunately, his mind often was imperfect. But he had to admit that it was a logical, quick way to get to know someone. And once they were wed, their minds would be deeply melded. A part of his katra would be tied to hers during the ceremony, so he’d better get comfy with having her in his head. “I… believe it would be logical.” He shifted on the bed, pulling one leg up onto the mattress to turn and face her.

T’Rama took a small breath and raised her hand. She reached out, her bare fingertips connected with his green skin, pressing into it with soft pressure. It sent a shiver down her spine, a shiver of sadness. Maybe it was his, maybe her own. It was impossible to tell, but her heart felt heavy. “My mind to your mind,” she said softly, “My thoughts to your thoughts.” (edited)

Remun closed his eyes. He felt the shiver, too, when she touched his skin. It felt like someone had suddenly knocked through the walls of his mind, there was so much space suddenly. It was filled, filled with a presence. Like when you dreamt of a person, didn’t see their face in the dream, but you still knew that it was that one person.  His eyes were closed, but he could see pictures. Colours. Gone too quickly for him to recognise anything. Broken words. Hints of ideas.  He suddenly felt less… alone. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before and he had no words for it. (edited)

T’Rama felt the way her mind brushed against his. His mental presence felt cool and troubled and anything but welcoming. She could sense fear and she caught sight of a few memories and thoughts. There were complex algorithms, thoughts of Vulcan and of his parents - laced with anger and some sort of striving - and then the grey-skinned face of a man. She didn’t want to pry too much. “Can you hear me?”, she thought.

It was odd. Why was he feeling so sad suddenly? Was that her? Some irritation ran through him. He didn’t want her illogical feelings in his mind! “Yes,” he said out loud, “You are in my mind.”

T’Rama sensed his irritation. “Apologies. Emotional transference is a side effect of the meld,” she spoke directly into his mind. “You can show me memories. I can show you mine.”

Remun reluctantly accepted her apologies. She was sad and now he was feeling it. Oh, well. It was kinda her fault, but he had to admit that this was… practical. Remun tried to think of Starfleet Academy. He thought about his classes, the lectures and what he learned. “Can you see that?”

“Yes,” responded T’Rama in thoughts, “I can see what you’ve learned.”

“Show me something from you,” said Remun. His eyes were still closed. It felt overwhelming to have so many thoughts in his head. He had to practically go into a meditative state to be able to suppress all those emotions and memories.

”Home,” thought T’Rama and showed him her memories.

Remun’s mind was flooded by images of T’Paal. It was his home, too. Their home. Her memories of the place seemed a little different form his own. Odd. Or maybe that was normal.

T’Rama caught some glimpses of Remun’s experiences in T’Paal, mingling with her own memories. ”My family,” thought T’Rama and showed him images of her parents.

It was like watching a movie, but he was in the middle of it. He could hear T’Rama’s thoughts and remember her life as though it were his own. He wondered whether T’Rama felt the same, whether she could see his childhood…

As Remun thought about this, the pictures changed, T’Rama was looking down at chubby green hands, from the perspective of a young Orion boy. There was red sand and… so much pressure. So much pressure to be perfect. Every child and adult was looking at her - at him - with such rigour, critically… “Do you want me to see this?”, she asked in his mind, unsure whether he was doing this on purpose or whether he was just inexperienced.

“I…” He was unsure, but he supposed that, “You said you wanted to know me.” His voice, for once, was not laced with judgement or sharpness. Maybe her sadness was rubbing off on him. That was a bit of a scary thought, actually.

She could sense his fear. “Don’t worry. Our minds and emotions will part when I end the meld,” she said, “Do you want me to?”

“No,” said Remun, maybe a tad too quickly. It wasn’t necessarily T’Rama who he enjoyed so much, but the feeling of not being alone, of being able to share and to be understood - it was so nice.

It almost felt like he was clinging on to her mind. It was maybe a bit uncomfortable, but also it felt wonderful to be so… needed. Not wanted, exactly, but at least needed. T’Rama couldn’t help herself, she thought briefly of her dead husband, Setiac.

An image of a Vulcan man with a broad nose and thin eyebrows and a bowl cut. He could sense affection. “Is that him?”

”Yes.” Him. The true owner of her heart, the man Remun would never be able to replace and wasn’t supposed to. Her one love, her world that had been ripped away from her, taken from her hands. Images of him were what kept her awake at night.

“You…” Remun was hit by a wave of emotions, so intense, it caused him to gasp. It was in fact so overwhelming, Remun flinched away. He leant backwards, breaking their skin contract, blinking his eyes open. Finally, he finished his sentence, staring at her, a bit out of breath, “…felt for him.”

It was slightly painful for the bond to be broken so suddenly. T’Rama flinched when Remun’s mind slipped away so suddenly. She quickly pulled her hand down into her lap and took a measured breath. “I loved him,” she said quietly.

Remun kept staring at her. He did not know what love really meant, though he had more of an understanding now, after feeling her feelings. His mind felt strangely empty now. As though there was too much space now. Was this what love did? Make you emotional, break your hear? “I…” He failed to find words. He would never be able to replace this man whom she had felt for so deeply. Nor did he ever want to fall in love himself now, not when it could cause such pain… “I am sorry.” What was he apologising for? It wasn’t his fault that Setiac was dead. Perhaps he was apologising for the fact that he would never be enough to really replace him, to somehow soothe her pain.

T’Rama shook her head. “I did not mean to share this with you, not yet,” she said.

“I am… grateful that you did,” said Remun. At least now he understood her feelings, and he could remove ‘trying to replace Setiac’ from his To Do List. (edited)

“Are there any other things you would like to know about me?”, she asked and looked at the floor.

“No,” said Remun, his voice returning to the usual monotone. “Are there any questions about me that you want answered?”

T’Rama was sort of relieved that he didn’t want to know anything else. She considered his question for a second and then she asked, “Who is that man? The person in your thoughts with the grey skin and the silver eyes?” That memory had felt… different from Remun’s other thoughts.

“His name is Renakir Torre’vnau. He is my roommate,” said Remun and tried not to think too hard about the fact that apparently Renakir was a reoccurring thought in his mind, so much so that T’Rama had noticed him.

“I see,” said T’Rama and asked no more. She stood up. “If you don’t mind, I will be meditating in my own guest quarters.”

“I do not mind,” said Remun plainly. He wondered why he felt so lonely, now that the mind meld had stopped. “You may contact me whenever you need to. Though I will not respond when I am working.”

“Understood,” said T’Rama and went towards the door. This felt awkward and distorted, but ever since Setiac’s death, her whole life felt awkward and distorted. “Goodbye, Remun.”

“Goodbye, T’Rama.” He looked after her. It would have been more polite to bring her to the door, or even to her quarters, but this green boy had zero tact and he was still a little starstruck by the whole mind meld.

[PADD]

To: Renakir From: Allan Heyyy Renakir!! Have a gift for ya that Brokuk and Chadrix wanted me to give ya. Meet ya at Surak Snacks? - Allan

[PADD] To: Allan From: Renakir

Surak Snacks. Alright. - Renakir renniegun

As soon as Renakir stepped into the room he was greeted by a blast of warm air. Too warm, he thought. "Computer. Lights off, temperature 0 celsius," He said before heading into his room so he could change. As was usual, Renakir undressed as soon as he got to his private bedroom. Now only wearing his Starfleet shorts, he fished out the rocks from his uniform pocket and headed into the common area. With the lights off he could comfortably sit without his sunglasses and so as not to be a fool, he did bring his sunglasses with him just in case. He scattered the rocks on the small table before heading to the replicator to replicate some items to use in the rock garden. A box, some sand, and a little stick to spread the sand. Once those items were made he went back to the sofa and began work on the garden. 777_divider

04:17

In the box the sand fell, falling gently from his slender grey fingers. Each grain filling the box from corner to corner. The sounds were soft, almost inaudible to human ears, but clear as night to his sensitive Reman ears.

"纖雲弄巧 (Through the varying shapes of the delicate clouds)"

Renakir's voice flowed like water through a lake as he spoke the words, each tone spoken slowly as if he were praying. Once the sand had all been poured into the shallow box, he began to spread it with his hands. The tiny grains clung to his palms and under his nails as he worked. His eyes were focused, staring at the small hills and valleys created by his moevments.

"飛星傳恨 (the sad message of the shooting stars)"

He continued the poem, weaving his fingers through the warm sand as if he were Vega herself, weaving the Milky Way. He pulled his hands up out from the sand and grabbed a small pebble. 'Where to put this one?', he thought as he stared at the box before he placed the stone near the top right corner. He traced the outside of the pebble with his index finger before repeating the process in the sand. Zen gardens were about finding beauty in simplicity. Rocks and sand, there wasn't much else to it.

"銀漢迢迢暗渡 (a silent journey across the Milky Way)"

Across the Milky Way, it sounded like he was telling the story of his own birth. A small boy from an icy moon who travelled across light years of stars. Perhaps he was always destined for a life amongst the sparkling lights he used to see in the night sky. He placed another rock in the sand.

金風玉露一相逢，便勝卻人間無數 (One meeting of the Cowherd and Weaver amidst the golden autumn wind and jade-glistening dew, eclipses the countless meetings in the mundane world.)

Fated meeting. Renakir was beginning to falter with his tones as he split his attention between laying the rocks and his recitation. Home. This reminded him of home. The warm sand moved through his fingers like the icy rivers flowed through the caves on Remus. He remembered his mother pulling him aside with pieces of cloth in her hand to tie up his small tufts of hair. 'Don't let the Romulans see your hair,' she would warn him. At the time Renakir thought it was just a weird superstition, like walking under ladders or turning on a fan inside. Baby Renakir had no idea, he was just a happy and friendly Reman boy who happened to have a lot of hair. But what happened to that boy?

"柔情似水 (The feelings soft as water)"

Two more stones in the box, making a total of four. Renakir traced them with his fingers in the sand. Perhaps he needed a bigger box, the garden was already starting to look a bit crowded.

Before Renakir could add another stone, his alarm on his PADD went off. It was already time for work? He had completely forgotten he had an earlier shift that day. He got up from his little Zen garden and headed into his bedroom so he could change into his uniform. He zoomed out of his quarters soon after, completely forgetting the table was still covered in little rocks with his box filled with sand.

When Renakir walked into his quarters he was greeted by the familiar cool air and zero lightning. Was Remun at work this whole time? He hadn't seen the Orion for a couple days, not that he minded. In fact, he was thankful they were more or less staying out of each other's hair. Although the room felt oddly.... Empty. Remun's name was still on the door, however aside from that there were no signs there was anyone else living there. Odd, but he didn't want to think about it too much. He put his snacks down on the table and began to undress piece by piece. He tossed his blazer on the sofa and then proceeded to take off his stupid harness and shirt until he was just in his underwear. Ah yes, feeling the cool air on his skin, he was living his best life. He began to munch on his rocks, they were quite good! Definitely a Tiravurik creation, he knew how to prepare rocks.

Soon enough there was pile of three hot, fresh baguettes, an assortment of cheeses (camambert, gouda, brie), an assortment of meats (smoky salami, barbequed targ), and a bottle of Vulcan Rosé outside Renakir's door. There was also a note saying 'get well soon! <3' and a little chibi sketch of then both munching on charcuterie. Apparently Eshen had been watching anime or something.

Once Renakir got the word that the food was outside of his door, he quickly darted to grab it. Thankfully his new roommate seemed to be keeping to himself or maybe he was at work? He wasn't quite sure but he hoped he wasn't sick too. Renakir grabbed the food and scurried back into his private bedroom and sat down to begin munching.

Allan stood outside the door, since he had looked up all his friends' (and people he met for the first time, even)'s birthdays and wanted to make sure he gave gifts in return but also Renakir was getting gifts anyway because they were already great friends! He was wearing the usual he'd been wearing lately, those thigh high black work boots with the shorts, but also with a nice little long-sleeved black button down with a rose pattern that was nearly all the way unbuttoned, as was typical. He knocked at the door, keeping the box and four long, almost cyllindrical bags he was carrying at his side.

Renakir was chilling in his blanket fort. Dressed in his Starfleet Shorts™️ that were somehow a lil too short to cover his whole ass and a plain black tank top. When he heard the knock at his door he carefully crawled out of the blanket fort and shuffled over to the door. His room was cold as Remus, a comfortable -30 C at the moment. "Computer, temperature 0 C, lights 40%," He ordered as he grabbed his sunglasses and put them on. The doors open and there was Allan to visit him! "Hello Allan," He said, tone friendly as ever. Not unlike normal Renakir but he seemed less jumpy, or maybe it was because he had just been chilling in his blanket fort. He stepped to the side so Allan could step into his room.

Allan took a brief moment to look Renakir over, smirking as he realized he was wearing the shorts! Very good! He was proud, really, that Renakir liked them so much - and, of course, that he looked fucking amazing in them. Despite the woosh of cold air, which he completely expected, hence the long sleeves, he held the box and the bags he was carrying out to Renakir. Inside the bags were just four different baguettes, and inside the box another rock he'd gotten Chadrix to speed-ship to him when he learned Renakir's birthday was so soon. "So, you'll be rather pleased to find out I haven't canoodled with a demon yet, but - happy birthday, Rennie!" He smiled, stepping inside. Though it was cold, and he fucking hated the cold, it was worth it to hang out with Renakir. And was that a blanket fort? Even better. (edited)

"I can turn the heat up if you're too cold," Renakir was unsure what was the lowest temperature a human could function at. The station was typically 15-20 C depending on the area, but he knew everyone had different temperature preferences even amongst the same species. Renakir personally liked things on the warmer side (surprisingly enough), but everyone was different/ He took the bags from his friend and plopped his little grey button on his sofa. He nodded his head to tell Allan he could come sit with him. There was an obvious lack of pillows on the sofa on account they were being used to hold Renakir's blanket fort together. "I'm glad you're staying away from the demons," Renakir said as he slowly opened the bag of baguettes, the Bag-gettes if you will. "Baguettes and a," Renakir opened the box to find the very yummy looking rock inside. "A rock? Allan, this is wonderful," His face lit up as he grinned from ear to ear. "I can eat this rock, right?" It looked delicious, but he also didn't want to eat something that was supposed to be decorative.

"Oh, no, it's fine. Whatever you're comfortable with," Allan said honestly, sure he hated being cold but Renakir's preferences and happiness was more important to him than him being a little chilly. He much preferred the station's normal temperature or a little hotter, but he could deal with most things. It wasn't terrible. At least there wasn't snow. Boston snow was the fucking worst nightmare known to man, in his opinion. "Rennie, my friend," he chuckled as he sat down on the sofa next to him, looking at him with that characteristic mischievous smirk of his, "believe me, I haven't been staying away from them, they've been staying away from me. I'm trying my fucking hardest out here," he laughed, and watched as Renakir open the gifts. "Yeah, of course dude! I actually got Chadrix to speed-ship it, the baguettes were uh, also straight from France, if you can believe that," Jérôme had complained only slightly when he told him how fast he wanted them shipped, but when Allan offered to pay more the Frenchman had obliged. Allan went all out for his friends, and Renakir was certainly no exception.

With Allan's reply about the temperature Renakir nodded and did not change it. He still felt bad the other was going to be cold, but Allan looked snuggly today. "With language like that I'm surprised you don't have demon booty calls every day this month," Renakir teased as he held one baguette up to his mouth and took a huge bite, sharp teeth sparkling under the low lighting of the room. It did taste like France! He was the happiest boy at that very moment. "Yep, tastes just like how I remember," It had been so long since he lived in France, but he never forgot how good authentic baguettes tasted. He couldn't believe his friend went through all this trouble to get him his favourite foods. Rocks and baguettes. The best part about this was uno'd Renakir felt no worry about accepting food from people so he could enjoy eating without the paranoia. “You really arranged all this for me... Thank you so much, Allan. Honestly I didn't think I'd be able to do anything for my birthday."

"God, no, I fucking wish, Renakir! Imagine.." And boy, could he fucking imagine. "But hey, I'm glad you like them! Jérôme - uh, this guy at a bakery I hung out with once," among other things, but the details weren't important, "makes really great bread, if you're ever down in the France sort of area again just let me know and I can give you his info." His eyes wandered over to the blanket fort for a moment before looking back at Renakir. "Of course dude! Why wouldn't you?"

He put the baguette down and took a bite of the rock. It was crunchy and the little bits melted in his mouth. Very tasty! Allan's Reman friends sure knew what the best rocks were. He still couldn't believe he had held off on indulging in rocks all because of some conjured up self shame. Humans ate weird stuff too. "A guy at a bakery? Allan, your booty connections are vast enough to even make a Romulan senator jealous," Renakir said, not fond of his countrymen's political practices but it was what it was. "Well you know, I'm quarantining coz of that virus. I hope I don't get you sick but... i feel like it's slowly wearing off. It shifts your personality."

Allan laughed at that, shaking his head. "Hey, I mean! Somehow I do it without all the weird spacism and murder, too, sooo... I'mmm just saying, they should step up their game." He said, before looking at Renakir a little confused, squinting at him. He didn't look or sound sick, a - virus that changed your personality? That sounded fake as hell. He started laughing again, putting a hand on Renakir's arm without thinking to steady himself. "Fuck, Renakir, I think you... you're hilarious, oh my God, a virus that shifts your personality? Does this - does this have to do with the demons too??" This was a joke. Right?

"The Romulans could learn a thing or two from you," Renakir knew that wasn't going to happen, Romulans were all about innovation and change but not when it came to their society. It was that stupid egotism that plagued their society. Normal Renakir would have probably been horrified at the sudden contact, but uno'd Renakir was surprisingly nonchalant about it. He shook his head and sighed. "I don't think it's any demons. I thought about that first but... Maybe my theories-- about demons and the Tal Shiar and stuff, maybe they're just my imagination being wild. I think it's just a virus. But do be careful of demons, I'm not swearing or going near any bodies of water," Renakir said as he put his gifts back in their packaging and stood up so he could place them on his table. He was definitely going to enjoy his baguettes later when he got munchy again. "And I have a gift for you too-- I prepared something for all my friends."

Allan also wished the Romulans would learn from him, but alas. They (as a government, he'd met some pretty cool Romulan people after all!) were just too stuck up or whatever. Gross. "A virus also sounds like a crazy theory, just sayin," Allan said as he leaned back on the sofa, thinking for a moment. "Wait - bodies of water? I just have to go to - fuck, I was just on the lake too on my monthly romantic canoe date with the captain! But we had to cut it short, but you're saying if I go back, that's where I'll get the demons to come to me?" He asked in disbelief. Who knew it was that easy, and he was just looking in the wrong places. "Oh? Is it the blanket fort? Because I would lovve to hang out in the blanket fort with you if so."

"Monthly romantic-- actually don't tell me. And that's gonna be a problem for the demons, but I think if you were gonna get infected you'd already be feeling funky," Well, if they were both infected it meant that they could hang out, right? Renakir hadn't even thought about getting Allan sick, he was thoroughly convinced most people on the station were sick. "Yes, actually Eshen sent me a file about how to make it," It was quite the blanket fort indeed. He was in OPS, but OPS and engineering had a lot of overlap and it showed. Renakir's fort took up the majority of his room, and of course he had to shape it like a Romulan warbird complete with a "singularity" in the middle. The singularity in question was a moon-shaped lantern that glowed a lovely shade of green. There were Christmas lights strung around the walls that also glowed a light green. The fort had three chambers, the middle being the biggest and the two on the sides of the "wings" being no more than a few feet wide due to space. Renakir put pillows in those corners so he could rest his head.

Allan simply laughed when Renakir insisted he not tell him about the canoe ride ordeal. He would maybe tell him about the Tamagotchi later - in fact, he had to tell Alizati about it for sure later too! He nodded when Renakir said he'd already be feeling funny if he had the virus. If there even was a virus. He thought Renakir was just making stuff up a this point, honestly, possibly as an attempted joke like the time they'd met in the tubes and he'd done some jazz hands on him at random. "Really? Shit, dude, that's a great gift," Allan said as he got off the sofa and went towards the blanket fort, looking inside of it. The zen gardens Renakir had gifted him and Dion were really amazing too, but this was like, on a different wavelength - a whole different genre. "Super impressive."

"Computer, lights 0%," Renakir commanded as he switched on another set of the lights on the floor. He took his sunglasses off and followed Allan inside. Even if the lights in his room were off, the Christmas lights and the lantern at the centre of the fort provided adequate lighting for most humanoids. The green light was also weak enough that it didn't bother him either. For some reason green lights didn't strain his eyes as much as the blue or warmed toned lights that were commonly used in the station. "Well-- actually my gift is something you can keep," Renakir crawled over to one of the corners on the side and grabbed a small gift bag. "I know I'm probably still affected by this virus, but my feelings about my friends will never change. I made you something to thank you for supporting me all this time and even visiting me on Mol'Rihan," Renakir said as he handed Allan the bag. Inside was a hand knitted scarf woven together with red and brown thread with some glittery bits on the end so the scarf sparkled under the lights.

"Whoa..." Allan looked around as he went inside, the green lighting was super cool and probably made his eyes look fun since they were also green. "I can keep this memory forever, what do you mean-" He had started to say when he saw the bag Renakir took out and listened to him speak. The words Renakir spoke were just... so sweet, and Allan couldn't help but wipe a small tear out of his eye as he took the bag from Renakir and opened it, taking some of the scarf out before remembering how cold he was and wrapping it around his neck. "It's... so soft? Fuck, Renakir, this is amazing, you - you're amazing, you know that right?"

Renakir blushed a light shade of green when Allan opened his gift. His narrow silver eyes seemed to glow under the green lights that also happened to match Allan's eyes. "I didn't know how to knit until I saw a video tutorial on space tube. I wanted to make something for my friends when we hung out because I know I like cold temperatures," In his mind if he was going to make his friends suffer through his arctic climate preferences at the very least he could provide them with adequate protection. "I'm glad you like it. So you can wear it to keep you warm," Renakir said, the brightest smile. Normal Renakir wouldn't be smiling so much, but uno'd Renakir seemed to have forgotten all of his self-loathing and shame.

"And you - you did absolutely amazing for learning this from a video tutorial, oh my God," Allan said with a laugh, holding the ends of the scarf in his hands. "That's literally so sweet, Renakir, you're literally so sweet, of course I'll stay warm you beautiful motherfucker, I..." Allan hardly even noticed that he was crying. Smiling, of course! But crying at how sweet Renakir was being. He usually didn't cry this easily unless he was inebriated, and he hadn't had anything to drink... yet. "Fuck, I'm glad you exist, Renakir. I like this and I don't even like it, I love it, and I love you, too." He loved all his friends, that was for sure, but Renakir was just being really nice right now and that cute fucking smile wasn't helping. (edited)

"I like making things and I'm so glad you like it," Renakir noticed his friend crying-- from happiness? Renakir owed a lot to Spacetube, that's how he got into Starfleet after all. It was not exactly easy to learn about the Federation when he was living under Tal Shiar control. Sure he had a couple of nice Starfleet officers who were willing to help him, but ultimately he had to learn a lot of things on his own. "You.. Love me? Oh, Allan, do you want to hug me?" Renakir asked, holding his arms out. "I'm grey and kinda cold, but I would hug you," Uno'd Renakir was not afraid to tell his friends he appreciated them and would gladly give hugs. There was still some paranoia, however he had yet to be assassinated from a hug which was pretty good.

"Of course I .. Of course I love you, I-I ... you're my friend, if - if you think you're my friend back, of course, I don't want to um, assume anything, sorry, I-" He fiddled with his scarf some, he seemed nervouse for some reason. Allan sniffled as he looked up at Renakir, wiping some of the tears from his eyes as he nodded. "But.. you'd... you would...you would really do that? You'd hug me?" He asked, which was something un-uno'd Allan would probably never ask. Of course people wanted to hug him, non-uno'd Allan would think, but uno'd Allan seemed to a good bit less self-confidence than before.

Love, wow Renakir never thought he would hear someone -- no multiple people say they loved him. Well aside from his family, his Reman family told him they loved him a lot and his father had only recently started saying it. "Of course I'll hug you," Renakir scooted his lil grey butt over to Allan and wrapped his strong arms around him, squeezing ever so gently. Renakir was still new to hugs, but he had strong arms and a warm heart. As they embraced, he couldn't help but sense something was off. He did not want to worry Allan so he simply pulled away after a few seconds , but kept a hand on the other's shoulder. "I think they're working on a cure for this virus. Maybe once everyone's cured we can hang out and do something? Oh I think I mentioned, but Kianarix is gonna visit. I don't know when but he said he was gonna be coming soon."

Allan hugged Renakir right back, and uno'd or not he was still great with hugs. He was definitely very warm right now too, what with the hug and the scarf and just how happy he was! "Okay, um.. thank you," he mumbled into the hug, and eventually they pulled a way but he still smiled. Apparently not even a personality-switching virus could take away this man's happiness. Yet, at least. "Are...aren't we already hanging out?" He asked, confused, before he smiled softly at the mention of Kianarix. "Oh! Kianarix! Yes, yes, we can... we can hang out! Only if he wants, though, I wouldn't want to, um, intrude on any plans of course."

Renakir was happy to hug Allan. In fact, he didn't realise just how much he appreciated platonic physical acts. Hugging and touching fingers (as a sign of trust, NOT anything scandalous!) it was quite enjoyable. Renakir was terrible at making friends, even his friends from the academy and previous postings never bothered to stay in touch. He was beginning to think he would reach 30 without anyone by his side. "Kianarix would love to see you-- wait.... Allan, the demons are here!" Renakir's eyes grew wide and he suddenly started mumbling cursed words-- actually not cursed. He was chanting. In ancient Chinese. It scared ghosts away. He scooted back from Allan and clapped his hands together like he was praying. "Allan, we need to notify sick bay and you cannot leave this room........ we're trapped in the pillow d'deridex."

"Huh!?" Allan said, looking around him, panicked rather than interested in whatever sexy things the demons had to offer. "No, no way, the demons... what demons!?" He asked Renakir, holding onto his arm before Renakir started... praying? "What... what does sick bay have to do with demons? Why are we trapped here in the... pillow d..deri.. is that French, Renakir? You know I don't actually speak that much French, I only know how to flirt with people in French and that's it, Renakir if the demons speak French I think I'm going to die." What would he do if there were demons and they spoke French!? Normal Allan would have tried some things. Uno'd Allan was fucking worried as hell.

"Shh," Renakir put a finger over his mouth before crawling over to the light switch and switching off the main lantern in the middle of the fort. He looked around, very cautiously. "I think you got the personality switching virus. And it's Chinese, it's a protection charm from any demons. You gotta stay here-- oh Reman turbo jesus I'm so sorry!" Renakir flailed his arms about, not too much though since he didn't want to damage the fort.

Allan looked around, a little worried and even more worried when Renakir switched off the main lantern light. "What!? Are you crazy?" He whispered, "I-I... the pillow... d'derisex, that's a protection charm?" He had never been more confused in his life, he felt like. All of a sudden his friend was telling him there were demons and he had to stay in this pillow fort forever and ever? "I-I don't want to um, break the rules or anything but, why would I have to stay here? I... I just want to hang out with you on your birthday but then I have work and I need to see my boyfriend and ... um, other things, probably?" What would he do if he was stuck here? Eventually they would run out of baguettes! Would he starve??

"It's okay Allan, and the word is d'deridex, we're in the RRW P'Low," Renakir shuffled around inside the pillow fort as he re-tucked some of the blankets on the side. The carpet of the fort was actually his grey Reman blanket, very soft and very warm. Despite the room being chilled, the fort was warm, like an igloo. He crawled around on his hands and knees fixing the little gaps between the fabric. "Because you're sick. And we don't wanna spready it. We won't starve, we have a replicator," Renakir laughed, his silly pointy teeth showing and certainly not making this situation seem less scary. "I mean, I can't prove it's Chinese demons, but I know we are both infected with the personality virus," Renakir said before he heard a ping on his PADD from outside the fort. "Wait, I'll be right back," The Romulan-Reman officer said as he crawled out of the fort to go check the message, leaving Allan alone with his thoughts in the RRW P'Low.

Allan would have normally laughed his ass off at that adorable little pun, but not now! Now his mind was flooding with anxious thoughts of demons and diseases and not being able to get out of this pillow fort ever again in his entire life and dying and why would he die? Because he was sick? Maybe! Anything could happen and it could all happen to him! "No, no, it's not okay, I'm not sick, Renakir, I feel fine - well I feel fine physically, but you're making me really stressed right now and I don't know why I would have to stay here and I do love you but I really probably need to leave eventually, and I really do need to see my boyfriend because what if I don't talk to him and he hates me oh my God Renakir, what if he hates me?" Allan didn't think he was sick at all, and crossed his arms, holding both his elbows as he buried his face into the scarf. Maybe that would protect him. From whatever. He didn't even know. He felt... scared. He felt helpless. Insert the 'you took a perfectly good X and gave it anxiety' meme here.

Renakir grabbed his PADD and a baguette before diving back into the fort. "It's Eshen, he's got the virus too," He sighed and put his PADD down so he could break the baguette into two, handing one half to Allan. Despite the fear of demons lurking, the room was incredibly still. The only sounds were their breathing and a soft hum from the ventilation system keeping the room at nearly sub zero temperatures. Normally such things would make Renakir nervous, after all 'quiet before the storm' was a thing, however Uno'd Renakir felt no such feeling. If anything it was the other man's nervousness that was scaring him. "You are both nervous wrecks with this virus, we gotta find a cure. I'm gonna shoot a message to medical," Renakir told Allan in a calm and steady voice. He picked up his PADD and began typing with one hand whilst his other held his half of the baguette.

"What...?" Allan took the half of the baguette but handed it back to Renakir. "I'm... I'm not really hungry, um.." He glanced at Renakir's PADD. It was Eshen? He had a virus too? Or was this whole thing a ploy and they were talking shit about him behind his back? He didn't know. He'd never know. He'd never know and maybe the demons were still here. "You're... you're the one making me nervous, I-I... telling me that the demons are giving me a virus and then saying you're talking to my boyfriend and he also has the virus and that I can't leave this place, how do I leave? Do I need to talk to the demons? Please don't make me talk to strangers right now, it makes me so nervous..." He kept burying his head in the scarf. Allan really did appreciate how soft it was, and how big it was so he could just put his whole face in it and have his hair sticking out the top. He wanted very much not to be seen right now.

"Listen, Allan, it's just a virus and it's making you act weird, it's making me act weird! We should be reversed, I'm supposed to be paranoid and illogical, come on!" Renakir continued typing some message on his PADD, to Eshen but also to medical. Even if they didn't have a cure yet, it would be best to have medical aware of everyone infected. "Forget the demons, we have a detectable medical condition and we need to just avoid contact with non-infected people. If you really wanna leave I can transport you to your quarters or something," Renakir wasn't quite sure what to do with nervous Allan. The other did look cute snuggling his lil scarf, but this was no time for getting flustered over his friends! He was 30 now, he had to be the responsible adult. "I'll turn the light back on," Renakir flipped on the 'singularity' once again, filling the P'Low with green light.

To Allan, Renakir still sounded paranoid. He thought this whole "virus" thing was just another conspiracy theory. "I... I'm really sorry, Renakir, but I don't really believe you, I don't think.. that this is a virus, I think you are just, um, um.. just a little bit paranoid? Sorry, I-I just... I do like hanging out with you, but this virus talk is really, um... it doesn't make sense, sorry." He curled his knees up to his chest, face still in the scarf. "I can't even talk to Eshen either?"

"You can talk to him, here," Renakir handed Allan his PADD so he could send Eshen a message if he wanted. "Oh maybe you should tell your supervisor too coz you can't come to work," He mentioned, not realising who Allan's supervisor was. He knew him and Allan didn't work in the same department, but for some reason the details were slipping his mind. What a trade off, his memory was less acute but in return he felt more relaxed and friendly.

"Oh..okay, okay," Allan said, poking his head up from the scarf and gently taking Renakir's PADD, as he read some of the previous messages he frowned, normal him would have some things to Say about the contents of these messages but uno'd him had nothing. He started to type a message, simply a 'hey Eshen, this is Allan, Renakir says I have a virus and I really wanted to' but then he erased the whole message, shaking his head. He kept rephrasing and rephrasing the message, before he sighed and handed the PADD back over to Renakir. "I... I don't think I can, sorry, I think if I send the wrong thing he'll be mad at me, and -" Message Alizati? After he had gotten that lowkey promotion? Hell no. "Um, I think I'll just show up, like I said, I don't think I actually.. have a virus," he said.

Renakir sighed and took the PADD back from Allan, typing a message himself. "It's the personality altering virus, that's why you feel so nervous and why I-- feel so bold," He told his friend, now offering out a hand for Allan. He wasn't sure the exact nuance in human culture, but in Romulan culture it was a sign of trust and he was half Reman so maybe some of his touch telepathy would help calm Allan down. It was said some Remans had the ability to relax or distress the mind with just touch telepathy. "And I'll message your supervisor. Wait who's that again?" He asked as he started drafting the message. Renakir's gaze looked up at Allan, noticing the paranoia and fear in the boy's eyes. If their personalities were switched... Did Renakir act like this normally? He made a concerned expression the more Allan seemed to bury his face in the scarf.

"It sound so fake though, you know that right? Like sorry but it doesn't sound real at all," he said, looking over at Renakir who was typing a message!? What message was he typing!? Was he typing something to Eshen that basically said Allan sucked and he should break up with him and date him instead or was he just typing something normal, uno'd Allan seemed to always assume the worst in situations like this. "Um.. I don't know if I should really tell you, what if he gets mad? I just um, I just got a new position sort of, or uh, he gave me new job duties and I really don't want to look like I'm skipping out on that because of a fake virus, he's going to think I'm not good anymore," he sighed, then took Renakir's hand after looking at him for a long while, looking back down at the pillows when he grabbed his hand. "And I don't ... I don't want people to be mad at me."

"It's not fake, I went to sick bay and got checked out and there is a neuro virus that affects the brain, I am pretty sure medical is thinking up a cure," Renakir was happy when Allan took his hand. His long grey fingers curled over the other's brown ones. For once he did not feel a wave of self-loathing when he saw his own hands. Actually, he liked the picture in front of him, holding Allan's hand and comforting him. He closed his eyes for just a couple seconds as he wondered how he could go about activating his touch telepathy to ease Allan's mind. Renakir did not possess telepathy at all. He was still in his own mind thinking the legends were true. "He won't get mad-- wait you're in engineering? I'll send a message to the-- Wait your boss is an android. He can't get sick. Maybe you can still go to work if you are only around him?"

"Yeah but you also told me that demons were going to come up out of hell during this entire month, so I ... I'm so sorry, it's just so hard to believe this, do you have um.. maybe a uh, a uhhh message from medical? Maybe?" He didn't want to say he felt like someone was trying to get to him through Renakir anymore, he was still worried about the message Renakir may or may not have sent to Eshen but the way Renakir held his hand really was comforting. "I, yeah um, Alizati, he... yeah, I can just be around him, that's what I'm doing now, actually, so it should be um, it should be okay?" He asked nervously, he was still worried about the message but Renakir wouldn't be mean, right? Renakir didn't seem like the person who would be mean behind his back. Especially when he was holding his hand like this.

"I don't have a tricorder here, no," Renakir sighed as he finished up typing the message to medical. He gently squeezed Allan's hand and smiled at him. Who would have thought holding hands was so enjoyable. Now all that was left to do was wait and hope medical would at least give him some sort of update. He wasn't expecting a cure overnight, but some progress would be nice. "When is your next shift? I wonder how the commander is dealing with the virus, I would imagine it's affected a lot of the station. Engineers getting their personality swapped seems... Terrible," Oh no did he just said something that would cause more anxiety in his friend? Calm and happy Renakir was a lot less careful with his words.

"I don't mean a tricorder, sorry, um..." When he saw his own PADD light up, he reached over his hand that wasn't holding Renakir's to look at it and read the message... from Hsarr. Ah. Okay, that was official enough. "Wait, so it's.... real?" He squeezed Renakir's hand back, a little more worried now. "I hope it'll be okay, um, can I .. can I ask you a question?"

Renakir was starting to realise why the first character of his name was synonymous with 'Tired' because man was he tired of this damn virus. He nodded slowly at Allan and put down his PADD so he could give his full attention to his friend in need. "Yes, you can ask me anything," Normal Renakir would probably be terrified, but uno'd Renakir felt no sort of anxiety about the sudden question. His expression was warm and his body language relaxed, he didn't even remember the last time he felt like this. Maybe it was on Remus when he was with his mother and Tiravurik.

Allan also placed his PADD down, and didn't really know what to do with his other hand at that point so he just held Renakir's hand with both of his, still avoiding looking him in the eyes. Looking him in the eyes would be way too much contact. "Um.. so, uh- how... what am I like without the virus...?" He asked. To him, he'd just always felt this way.

"Did you.... Does this virus give people in... insomnia.. am... ama," Renakir began speaking words but it was like he suddenly lost all of his linguistic abilities in a single instant. Allan still wasn't looking at him which only added to his growing worry. "Arhem u'hwi," Renakir spoke slowly in his native Rihannsu, for once relying on the universal translator. However his voice was much too soft for it to pick up any of the words. "You're sexy and flirty all the time, confident, you tell me I'm hot, and you also tried to get with Tiravurik. He likes you back you know," He spoke a bit louder so the translator could actually translate what he was saying. This was terrible, was he going to forget all language now? Oh no, he'd forget French and Chinese, that would really suck. He wasn't too upset about forgetting Standard to be quite honest.

Allan laughed some. Him? Flirty all the time? *Confident? And - Tiravurik liked him back? What?* "Haha, I - really?" He looked up at Renakir now, and raised his eyebrows when Renakir looked like he wasn't joking. "You're really serious? I mean, I guess I'm... I guess I'm okay looking, but like, confident? Flirty? I... I tell you... I mean, Renakir, you - if it's okay to say it, you are hot, but I just tell you that? Regularly?" He still held Renakir's hand, and was definitely blushing.

Renakir before would probably have just shook his head and ignored the comment, humbly trying to avoid talking about such things, but uno'd Renakir? He appreciated it! "You know I appreciate it when you and Eshen compliment me. Well, when anyone compliments me. My whole life I've been told to hide who I really am and I been taught to feel shame for not being full Romulan, but... To hear that so many people actually like how I look it gives me hope for the future. I know you guys aren't Romulan, but it means a lot to me," With how well Renakir seemed to have adapted to Federation life it was almost hard to believe he was no actually a Federation citizen nor did he grow up in Federation space. He was from a very closed minded society with strict rules and codes. Renakir put his other hand on Allan's. "There's so much diversity in the Federation, which was part of the reason I decided to enlist in Starfleet," His grey eyes looked into Allan's green ones as a light blush crept across his cheeks as well. Although unlike Allan, he blushed a lovely shade of green thanks to his copper based blood. "So.. You really don't remember how things were like before the virus?"

"R-really? I mean, um, if you appreciate it, maybe... maybe I should do it.. more?" He asked, squeezing Renakir's hand again and looking away, and then looking back at him with a soft smile. "Me too, um, I mean, if you... if you wanted, of course, um, and we definitely... wouldn't um, have to, but ... um, never mind, actually," he was about to say it but just like the messages he was going to send to Eshen, he retracted it. He did wonder what Renakir had sent to Eshen though... hm. "Oh I um, remember things, I just don't remember what... what I did, I guess? Like I remember doing things but I don't remember how I did them, if that make sense.. I don't think it does though, sorry. Like I think I've always acted like this."

"I don't know if non-sick me would be so bold to take your compliments openly. I don't react that way to be offensive, compliments just really aren't a thing in Romulan society. It could have-- I mean, Romulans are too paranoid to just accept nice things. This is why we can't have nice things, dammit!" Renakir said in a rare emotional outburst, openly talking about his frustrations with his people. A part of him wished he was fully Reman so he wasn't lumped together with the murderous Vulcanoid race, but another part of him was thankful he was a hybrid. If he was fully Reman there was no way he would have survived Rator III or Cretaris. "If I wanted to--?" Renakir raised an eyebrow at the proposal, but Allan quickly became shy mid-sentence and there was no way he could read the boy's mind. "You know, I'll ask you after this disease is over," He didn't want to guess what Allan was going to ask, but with both of them sick it was best to just stick to holding hands for now. This was already pushing the boundaries for the Romulan-Reman boy. "Yeah you're super outgoing, you act like how I am now, " He explained, keeping both hands on Allan's. Despite the temperature in the fort actually rising to be quite toasty now, Renakir's skin was still cold as ice. Remans may have been Vulcanoid, but their body temperature was noticeably cooler from Romulans or Vulcans. "Do you still want to stay here? I can transport you to your quarters? We don't have to stay in the RRW P'Low."

Allan nodded, to both of those things, if they were both the opposite of their normal selves it really did seem best to just hold hands. "I am... really," he laughed softly and shook his head, he couldn't imagine being ike that but simply trusted that what Renakir said was true now that the doctor had confirmed it, and he had no reason to doubt authority! "So...so you didn't send Eshen a message saying you hate me? I-I know that sounds stupid, I just um, got worried, I guess," He explained, and then when Renakir said the RRW P'low again he laughed. "W-what? No, no, I like the... the RRW P'low, it's um, nice here. It's quiet."

Renakir shook his head and-- so bold, he moved a little closer to Allan, still holding hands. With his eyes looking at Allan and the boy's hands still in his, he spoke, "Allan, may I hold you?" Bold, although it wasn't like he hadn't offered his embrace to anyone before. He did the same thing with Saren when he was in a surprisingly similar situation. "I told Eshen you were infected, he is not mad at you," His voice was like velvet as he spoke his native Rihannsu. It hit much differently than when he spoke Standard. Somehow his voice sounded gentler despite the harsh Rihannsu glottal stops and numerous aspirated sounds. "And I'm glad you like the RRW P'Low, after this is all over you're welcome to hang out here again. I don't think I'll be disassembling it," Friendship ended with his bed, RRW P'Low was his friend now.

Allan stayed still as Renakir moved closer to him, blinked a few times, looked away from Renakir and then looked back at him and nodded. "Y-yeah, you can," he said slowly, smiling. Renakir was a nice friend, and he trusted him enough to hold him. He wasn't sure if he'd trust anyone else to do so right now though, aside from Eshen of course. "Oh," he whispered, "that's it? So he's not mad? He... you think he still loves me?" There was no reason for him to think otherwise, really, but this virus must have been really getting to him! "Yeah, it's... it's really comfy, I like it."

As soon as he got consent, Renakir wrapped his strong grey arms around the nervous human and just held him. This is what Saren did when he was nervous on Mol'Rihan, it was comforting. Although he didn't think his human friend would really understand the cultural significance of such an act, what mattered the most is that he could show how much he supported the other. Like a rock, a big friendly rock. "No, not at all. And I am sure his feelings toward you are unchanged," Renakir replied, sounding awfully Vulcan for a man who had not a single drop of Vulcan blood in him. "You're a really kind person, Allan. I am glad I met you. I liked your Reman friends too, they were goofy but kind. You know, I survived on those macarons for nearly a week. Those Romulan greyhound buses weren't sh-- Were no match for me and my travelling macaron buddies," He chuckled, forgetting ghost festival rules for a split second but he caught himself! No ghosts were gonna get him.

This was like the first hug just a bit ago in the same pillow fort, but somehow it was better, more comforting even, to be held by Renakir like this, and he held Renakir back, too. "O-okay, if - if you're sure about that, because I.. I really love him so much, I do," he whispered, he was no longer cold even what with the scarf and the embrace. "I'm glad I met you too, and my friends, they," he laughed, "they really like you too, they said you're welcome to stay again any time - and of course, I know Chadrix would love to make more macarons for you any time as well. I could even have some um, shipped over here, probably."

Another smile crossed Renakir's face when the shorter man settled into his arms. Maybe if the Romulans embraced like this more they wouldn't be so power hungry to conquer the whole universe. Not saying hugging would have literally stopped all Romulan/Federation conflicts but it would have given Romulans a better outlet for their emotions. Renakir's arms held Allan firmly as he spoke. The human engineer could probably hear his heart beating and the way his deep voice seemed to shake his whole body. "I know you do, and he loves you," Renakir whispered, just loud enough so that the translator would catch it. "And they are invited to my house too. My family always welcomes Remans," Well his Reman family, his father, and his flaky cousin Rai. "Are you feeling any better?"

The human engineer did in fact hear Renakir's heart beating, and it felt... peaceful, honestly. He let his head rest on the other's shoulder as he spoke. "He does," Allan agreed, "And, yeah, I - I am, thank you, would they really be okay to be there? In like... the fancy pool and everything?"

Renakir may have lost his language abilities but it worked in his favour this time. His words had a sort of poetic quality to them, something that was absent when he spoke any other language. "They would. My father welcomes all Remans, I am sure Onusuk and Meruvix would be happy," Renakir missed them already even though he had barely been gone a month. He missed the Reman chilly and slimy mollusks. Mol'Rihan was still stranger to him, but after travelling across the literal world in a Romulan greyhound bus he had a newfound appreciation for it. He rested a hand on Allan's back as he held him, closing his eyes. "I know we want to get back to the way things were but there's a part of me that doesn't want to go back to being paranoid and shy. Why do Romulans have to be so... terrible at socialising normally?"

"Aw, okay, I'll have to tell them about it then, I'm sure they'd love to met them," Allan said, the thought of himself talking to new people scared him a little right now but he knew that Chadrix and Brokuk lovvved new friends. In all honesty, he missed Mol'Rihan already too - it was like a second home for him at this point, almost. "Maybe you could write down how you feel...? And read it later, that might be good if there's things you want to keep," he said, reaching his hand up to hold Renakir's. "If you um, if you want, of course."

"From one Reman to another, we gotta watch out for our comrades," Here he was, Renakir Solait, the proud hybrid from Remus. He sighed softly, exhaling some cool air. "I could," Renakir said as he opened his eyes. He then picked up his PADD and began to type. "You can sleep if you need to, or watch me. I'm sorry the text will all be in Rihannsu. I can't seem to remember any other language at the moment," He said, long grey fingers tapping away at the buttons. "Everything will be alright, Allan, I will continue to hold you."

To: Mr. Sunshine From: Mr. Moonlight

Hey, can you come over to my room? I know quarantine's over but I've done something very stupid and I don't want to be perceived right now, but I want to give you a birthday present.

To: Mr. Moonlight From: Mr. Sunshine

Sure, I'll be right there.

After typing his reply to his friend, Renakir gently untangled himself from Allan and laid him on some soft pillows inside of the fort. He crawled out and grabbed his sunglasses so he could go see Eshen.

To: Renakir From: Allan

Hey so ... do you still have the pillow fort up?

To: Allan From: He who shall not be perceived

Yep, actually it's my new bed. Much better than sleeping in a traditional bed, Starfleet really did not prepare for species from Q class worlds.

(edited)

To: Rennie

From: Allan

Yoo.... can I come over then? And can I bring my boyfriend maybe

To: Allan From: renniethirst

Sure. Ill expand the RRW P'Low give me 10.

Bet. Will be there in 15, then

Renakir crawled out of the RRW P'Low once he received the confirmation message and walked to the common area so he could... recycle his giant empty romulan ale bottle. Yes, he did in fact drink at all hours of the day, it was synthol so it was fine, besides Vulcanoids didn't get drunk as quickly with alcohol as humanoids. That was only with sugar. Today the lad was dressed in his Starfleet shorts and nothing else. It was his day off after all, clothes were optional when he was in his own damn room. "Computer, Romulan ale and.. L'eau de minerale, french brand," He instructed, grabbing the two tall glass bottles and bringing them into his private quarters where the RRW P'Low practically took up the whole room. He grabbed his sunglasses from his desk and put them on. "Computer, temperate 15 C, lights 30%," He was preparing for his M-Class dwelling friends to join him. That's when it hit him. The RRW P'Low would be a great murder spot. No no, his friends would never. But there was always a possibility. That's what Caesar thought too.

At exactly nine minutes after he'd sent the message to Eshen, Allan was a few steps outside the entrance to Renakir's room, because he had told Eshen he'd meet him at 10 minutes, and Renakir he'd meet him at 15, but it had already been 2 minutes when Allan had sent Eshen the message and another 2 when Eshen had replied and he'd sent the other one, and so that surely gave them a solid minute to do any greeting kisses or whatever they'd want to do before actually going into the pillow fort. Math. He was wearing his Starfleet shorts and a rather flowy, red long-sleeved off-shoulder crop top with them, and of course the thigh high work boots that had been working just so well for him lately. Why did anyone even wear the other boots was anyone's guess to him now. So, he waited for Eshen outside the range of Renakir's door patiently, ready to greet him with like, all the kisses. He was also just super stoked to see him, and to have Eshen see the pillow fort if he hadn't already! It really was great, and he couldn't imagine what Renakir's renovations would look like!

Eshen turned up at ten; he'd always been an organised and punctual lad. He was in tight black high-waisted trousers and a white formal shirt. Nothing too fancy, but he had the mismatched metal rose and jade earring in. He approached, running a hand through his short hair anxiously, and didn't initiate any sort of greeting yet. He wasn't his usual self (selves?), but he was okay with socialising regularly now. Somehow he was particularly afraid of Allan finding out about this. It's not that he was afraid that he would judge him, but that they were usually... On the same wavelength, but he wasn't functioning on that frequency today. Also, he desperately hoped Renakir had remembered to tell Allan not to comment on the hair, even that it looked good. "Hey," he greeted, hands in his pockets, "Um, it's been a bit. Sorry I've been a hermit." And ironically, they were going to go hide in a pillow cave, like pillow hermits.

Allan actually didn't have any earrings today, but a small, thin gold chain necklace that went with the shirt pretty nicely. Renakir had also, thankfully, told him not to comment on the hair, so he did not. He did, however, set a hand on Eshen's shoulder and give him a kiss on the cheek, setting his other hand on his boyfriend's other shoulder after he did so, "It's okay! As long as you're okay, you know?" He knew sometimes people would hermit off to focus on themselves more, but he wasn't sure if that's what had been going on or whatever. "You ready to see the world's best pillow fort, though?" He let go of Eshen's shoulder and reached for the buzzer, not pressing it yet but just waiting for Eshen's confirmation, looking at the other with an excited grin, as if he'd been waiting to do this his entire life. "Because - not even gonna lie, it's pretty fuckin' lit."

"I'm... Getting better. Certainly won't be singing any time soon, though." Hiding to make focus on himself wasn't what he'd done at all. It was more like he hadn't wanted to be perceived, Renakir-style. It was one of the reasons Renakir had been the first he'd come out of isolation for. Eshen nodded, put his hands on Allan's waist, then gave him a peck on the lips to let him know he was still okay with that kind of affection. "I am ready." *

"Good! I mean, the getting better thing, obviously not... the other thing - just take your time, yeah? I certainly don't mind," he shrugged, he really didn't, and expecting anyone to get better from literally anything at any sort of pace would be so weird. He smiled when Eshen gave him a peck on the lips. "Let's go, then!" He said, and as soon as he did he pressed the buzzer. Just two guys going to the pillowfort! Absolutely gay.

Renakir was putting the finishing touches on his expanded fort when he heard the buzzer. He placed the last two pillows before crawling out of the fort and going to answer the door. He was still just in his Starfleet shorts because man, it was hot in his room now. "Jolan tru," He greeted his friends before stepping to the side so they could step into the common area. "The RRW P'Low is in my room. I have ale and french mineral water, but if you want anything else I can replicate it," He may have not been a fantastic cook like Eshen, but he did know a couple replicator recipe hacks. It was another benefit of working in ops! Looking at his friends' outfits he realised how underdressed he was, causing him to cross his arms over his chest as if to hide how little clothing he was wearing. "Umm... sorry, I made the temperature more M-class friendly," He told them, assuming his shy 'do not perceive me' posture.

Eshen didn't really have any reaction when he saw Renakir only in Starfleet Shorts. He was well acquainted with the bodies of men; it was nothing he hadn't seen before. Besides, he'd seen Renakir in the pool, shirtless when they fought, and probably other occasions such as that. "I doubt either of us are complaining, but if you'd like to be more covered up you can probably turn the temperature down if you want. We can conserve heat with blankets and close contact, but it's harder to get rid of heat." He was a desert creature, but Allan was warm so worst comes to worst he could just hold him like a hot water bottle. "You don't always have to accommodate everyone else - we're willing to accommodate you, too. And then we could drink some hot drinks and pretend like we're huddled up together in a snowstorm or something?" (edited)

Allan nodded, again just so glad to see people wearing the shorts. They were a good thing across the station, for sure. "Yeah! It's whatever you want, man, but we can also just - I mean, I know I could also-" And then he took his shirt off in the blink of an eye, which really wasn't all to hard because it was an off-shoulder, draping it over one arm to hold it. "Or we could do the hot drinks and snowstorm! I did bring the scarf you made me in my bag, 'cause I remembered it was colder last time," he smiled warmly at Renakir, the choice really was up to him and he didn't mind. After all, maybe the scarf was long enough even for both him and Eshen.

"It will be warm in the RRW P'Low," Renakir nodded, staring at Allan when he pulled his shirt off. They really didn't have to... Well, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the view. His face blushed a lovely shade of light green, forcing him to turn around to attempt to hide it. This was not new for him, he was typically very green, but it was because he had to work in an M-class environment. This time, it wasn't the heat making him green. "What kind of hot drinks would you two like? I'm no Eshen when it comes to cooking, but as an ops officer I know a few replicator hacks," He said as he walked to the replicator. He didn't say it, nor did he give it away in his voice, but he appreciated his friends being okay with the cold. He hated that his body needed the least inviting environment to function, the struggles of being from a Q-class world.

Eshen raised an eyebrow at Renakir's blush and, just to match Allan, started unbuttoning his formal shirt. His torso was as heavily scarred as usual, and apparently being a hermit hadn't stopped his workout routine. Just three shirtless men standing around a room. Well, Renakir was Romulan and the only genders they had were dead or alive, so perhaps it was two and a half men. "I like hot chocolate, with actual sugar in it. Don't worry, I didn't get the Vulcan sugar thing. And you, Allan?" He said, looking over to him and holding his hand with his own gloved hand. Chest bare, hands covered; 'twas the Eshen way of things.

Allan smiled as he watched Eshen also take his shirt off, they'd probably end up "accidentally" swapping them throughout the night anyways. "A hot chocolate would be amazing, actually. Maybe the cayenne and cinnamon variety?" He asked, holding Eshen's hand right back. He missed this so much! "Feel free to do whatever kind of 'replicator hack' you're talking about though, surprise me maybe." He said, winking at Renakir.

"Yeah, sure," Renakir pressed a few buttons on the replicator, producing two warm cups of liquid. They cups looked like those fancy tumblers from like Spacebucks or whatever it was called. He picked up wth cups and turned to see Eshen and Allan-- holding hands. Why, why, in front of his nice warm drinks? The blush on his face deepened as he tried not to think about his two friends doing such things in his presence. He knew they were dating and holding hands in other cultures was not as big a deal as it was amongst Romulans specifically. Eshen being half Vulcan somehow made it feel more scandalous because he knew exactly what he was doing. Anyway, Renakir didn't want to think about it. It didn't help the voice in his head, Cerrub, would definietly support this. "Okay we can go to the RRW P'Low," Renakir did not look at his friends and shuffled past them towards his private room where he had constructed quite an impressive pillow fort. It was nearly the full size of the room and the celing was taller too. Now all tree of them could comfortable sit around the "Singularity" in the centre; a glowing green lantern. There was also now a small table where he had the bottle of French mineral water and Romulan ale sitting on it. There were pillows all around the outisde as well, very nice. Also, some blankets! All hand crafted Reman items his parents had made. "Computer, lights 15%, temperature 5 celsius," He said, happy that it was going to be chill once again.

Eshen saw the look on Renakir's face, followed his line of sight down to his and Allan's held hands and realised - oh, he'd gotten a little too comfortable. Instinctively he let go of Allan's hand before he felt bad about doing that all of a sudden and then wrapped and arm around his wrist instead and led him into Renakir's pillow Fort room. Once he was in the room, he looked around at the pillow fortress Renakir had built in awe. "Renakir, you really did well with this... If I ever go camping, I'll invite you along with me. It actually does remind me of snow. The lantern is a nice touch, too. If you don't mind me saying, you look beautiful in its soft green glow. We... All do." Two and a half beautiful shirtless men.

Allan hardly noticed, but when he did notice Eshen interlinking arms with him instead of hands he did the same, going into the pillow fort which was somehow even -more- impressive than when he had gone in last time. "Whoa, you really did so well with the... renovation," Allan said, looking around the fort in awe, noticing the table in particular as he sat down near the light. "We really do! It's a really pretty color," he was a little biased because it was the color of his eyes, but he really agreed, it looked beautiful on all of them.

"Camping-- umm... Yeah, Holofernes was also in a tent when Judith beheaded him," Renakir said nonchalantly as he ducked his head to go into the fort. It has been 0 days since Renakir has mentioned murder in a casual environment. For someone who wanted to dispell stereotypes about Romulans he sure spoke about violence a lot. He placed the two cups on the table. The cups were colour coded to match their eyes; Eshen's was gold and Allan's was green. "I hope the drinks are to your liking," He sat cross legged on the floor and put a pillow in his lap before he accidentally showed too much thigh. The shorts fit fine. but he wasn't exactly sitting in a position that preserved his modesty. "And thank you.. Umm.... You two are... Attractive. I'm sorry I don't really know how to say it," Renakir balled his hands up into fists as he rested them on the pillow so he wouldn't have to look at his stupid fingers. He looked at his friends with a soft expression, waiting to see their reaction to the wonderful drinks he had prepared. Even though they were from the replicator, Renakir had learned how to tweak the flavours to add a little imperfections. The problem with replicator food was it was too perfect. But adding some variation in ingredient amounts to be just off by a little actually made it taste less replicated and more homemade.

"I think you say it just like that," Eshen said, picking up his hot chocolate and taking off the Space lid so he could blow on it. "You know neither of us are going to mind if you say that sort of thing a little clumsily; we'll still appreciate it either way. Also, why does the Earth history you know involve the Romans so much? I much prefer the Greeks." Once he deemed it sufficiently cool, he put the lid back on so it wouldn't spill in Renakir's lovely pillowfort and took a sip. "Huh. This does taste a lot more natural than regular replicated hot chocolate. It's nice. Thanks, Renakir." He stared into the green light. It made his gold eyes a sort of lime colour. He felt like they should be telling spooky stories or something.

"Yup! Exactly like that," Allan agreed, "Likewise, so are you. Altogether, we're simply a very attractive friend group." How did that happen? Were they all drawn to each other because they were attractive, or was everyone on this station just more likely to be extremely attractive? From what he'd seen thus far, at least, it seemed to be the latter. He had yet to find an unattractive person on this station. He also took a sip from his cup, which was a lovely green color and looked extra interesting because of that in the low lighting. "Mm, he's right, you- the added variation makes it a lot better, I think in this it makes the cayenne kick a little more and honestly? I love that, thank you." Variation was always hands down one of the best #ReplicatorHacks, for sure.

"Are you really asking a Romulan why I know so much about Rome? I mean," Renakir couldn't help but laughed at question, honestly it was pretty funny. "I mean, that's just the Standard name for us, we call ourselves Rihannsu," Just like the language! Actually Rihan was the language, but most people just said Rihannsu. "I like the Greeks too, but I have to say I was intrigued that during our first contact with humans we were given names that literally mirrored the Roman Empire. Romulus, Remus, we were honestly just the space version of the Roman Empire," Renakir found that all very fascinating and he had gotten a lot of questions about it during his academy days. Yes, space Romans. Not the Magna Roma, that was a completely different race. "Allan, you're.. You guys are way too nice to me," Renakir covered his face with his hands to hide the blush but also he was feeling self conscious about his stupid mouth. "You know my father asked me if I was your third. Like-- multiple times," He peeked at the two men from the small space between his fingers. "And I'm glad you like the drinks... Umm.... You guys are my dear friend, my daelhen, of course I'd only give you the best."

"Ah, but consider: an alternate universe where you were more like the Greeks, so we - Earthlings, I mean - called you the Grecians instead. Now that would be interesting." He might write a book about it or something. "And in this universe, Kronos, as the Terrans called it, would be Saturnus. As for being our third, well..." Eshen paused, sipping from his gold cup and wondering if Renakir would get a silver cup to match his eyes, then continued in a very matter-of-fact tone of voice, "I'm sure neither of us would object to that - right, Allan?" He said putting an arm around Allan's shoulder, "but I understand you don't do that sort of thing so casually. Regardless, you can be certain that you mean a lot to the both of us, daehlhen." He gave Renakir a small, brief smile. "That said, you look a little lonely over there; would you like it if we sat either side you?"

"It is interesting," was all Allan had to say to the whole Roman Greek thing and all, because he did not know shit about this quite frankly. But he still found it interesting! But it was more interesting to listen to people talk about than think about it himself because there were simply No Thoughts To Be Had. He laughed when Renakir mentioned his father had asked if he was their third multiple times, he supposed they really were going at it in the pool when his dad had shown up. "O-ohh, absolutely, yeah! It's definitely on the table," Allan said with a smile, looking down at the actual table between them. "I mean, you already know how I feel from the way I talked here before," he said with a chuckle, remembering when he was crying and telling Renakir he loved him in the much smaller version of the RRW P'low. "We could actually hold hands around the table or something. Maybe summon some of those ghosts?"

"First off, it's ghost month for another week," Renakir shot Allan a serious look for exactly five seconds before he couldn't hold it anymore and started laughing. "You know, the Chinese have over 10 different types of ghosts, I am not summoning them in this good Tenakruvek-loving pillow fort," He said as he leaned back on his hands, watching Allan and Eshen enjoying their drinks. He would drink some ale right about now but he felt... Nervous, about doing so in front of two people. Two trusted people, but the feeling of others watching him made him nervous regardless of who they were. Renakir did in fact have a silver cup, but it was empty and sitting on the table. "You guys are too nice to me," He said in response to them inviting him to be their third. Even though he had politely declined many times, he thought it was really sweet that they kept the offer open. "But I.. I can barely understand what I want and I'm still learning how to be a good friend. I am my family's next hru'hfirh-- umm Head of House, so I need to be.. Less like this," Renakir sat up and gestured to his whole self. "More like a leader, I guess," The whole thing was incredibly daunting. There was a part of him that wished Rai was spacist and held onto the title as it as his birthright. "Well, you two can sit on either side of me... But... One at a time. You know, if you wanted to assassinate me, now that you know I'm the future hru'hfirh of the Torre'vnau family, now would be the perfect time," There he goes, talking about murder so casually.

Eshen raised a brow. "And gain what? Kill an ally with status so I can inherit absolutely nothing because I'm not related to you? Illogical. Also, we're closer to your preferred temperature than mine, and you can see better in this light than me, so logically, if we fought, you would be the victor. Actually, since we're in an environment better suited to you and you've just offered us food and drink, logically, this would be an excellent trap for us." Eshen may not have Romulan paranoia, but he was still good at analysing the layout of a room and the people within for tactical purposes. He was Klingon, after all. He reluctantly separated himself from Allan, then sat beside Renakir. "And yet I still choose to sit beside you, because I trust you. We both do. I don't think leadership is about suspecting everyone, like you think Caesar should have. Groups are built on trust; in order to function in society, you have to trust that the person who built your house built it well, you have to trust that everyone you pass by bears you no ill intent, you have to trust the person who brought you into this world to look after you, and you have to trust those around you to bury you correctly and carry on your final wishes when you die. And you have to..." He looked over towards Allan - in fact, if Allan was sitting on the other side of Renakir at the moment, he moved so that they were all sitting in a sort of triangular formation and held out his hands for both of them to hold. "You have to trust that people will see the 'uglier' parts of you and still accept you, or you can never really exist as your fullest self." Then he eyed the silver cup that Renakir wasn't drinking from.

"And? That's a whole 'nother week for me to try and get with them," he said, before also laughing. "Fiiiine, we don't have to summon them together, I'll just do it on my own," Later... later he might try, actually. If he got the ghosts to show up, who knew what could happen? He nodded to what Eshen said, it really did make more sense for this to be a murder plot against them than the other way around. He watched as Eshen sat next to Renakir and then moved to sit across from Renakir for that lovely triangular formation. "Renakir, on the long list of things that I'd like to do to you, pretty sure murder is at the bottom -" Wait. That implied it was on the list still. "No, it's not on it at all, but." He grabbed Eshen's hand and held out his other to Renakir to complete the circle. So they were summoning the ghosts!? Or was this just a fun friendship exercise? Either way, he was down. "He's right, you know. Existing as, like, all of yourself is pretty key to like... existing as all of yourself." In his mind that sentence made perfect sense and he was just smiling warmly at Renakir as if it totally did.

As Renakir listened to Eshen's logic he nodded. If any murder was going to happen, it would definitely be from Renakir's end. But no he never dreamed of murdering anyone. Well, unless they were spacist, then disruptors at dusk. "Trust... Ilhra Daelhen," Renakir said the words 'trusted friends' slowly as he looked to Eshen and then to Allan. His friends. He may not have been uno'd, but his appreciation and admiration stayed the same. It was just hard for him to express it. Renakir took his friends' hands, they could probably feel how nervous he was. Wait, Eshen was half Vulcan, touch telepathy? It took all his strength not to recoil and hide himself under the blankets and pillows, but this was an important step. He trusted Allan and Eshen, he was not going to isolate himself from them for a second time. He already went through that on Mol'Rihan. "Make sure you're summoning spirits away from my quarters, ok?" Renakir teased, giving his human friend a silly sharp-toothed smile. "The long list of things you want to do to me," Renakir did not quite understand that, but when Allan said murder was no on it he felt reassured. "You two are really just... Everything, I really appreciate you both," He turned to look at Eshen, letting him see his sharp teeth as he smiled. This was so much love for one Reman boy, he really had some amazing friends. "I wish Romulan society was as accepting as you two are. On Mol'Rihan when I was traveling on those night buses... People stared and I was reminded that even when I'm home, I'm an alien."

"I understand. People notice difference. Hybrids are aliens wherever we go. But as we discover more of the infinite difference in the universe, discovering new beings all over the galaxy, I believe people will become more accustomed to it." That was the meaning of IDIC. Well, one of them. He squeezed Allan and Renakir's hands with his gloved ones. "Are we really going to attempt a seance? Allan, do you actually know how to do one? Because I don't. I... just wanted us to all hold hands." Saying that out loud? Scandalous. He blushed and looked away, but it was less noticeable in the green light. "And what are we even going to do if they turn up?" He wasn't thinking about sleeping with them because as far as he knew, ghosts were incorporeal and infuckable, which is a word now because I said so.

"Will do!" Allan said in regards to summoning the spirits away from Renakir's quarters, smiling right back. "And we appreciate you too, Renakir. I think Eshen's right, and like - also there's this stupid thing where people who don't know you judge you and then like, they get to know you and they stop judging you as much. I don't know why that happens, but I guess I kind of understand. I mean, when I first met you, I didn't really know what to think of you because the situation we met in was pretty tense, but like - now we're great friends," he squeezed both their hands as he smiled at Renakir still, and then looked at Eshen with a look of concern. "What?! No, no, we agreed we weren't doing that now," he laughed it off, but he definitely was not going to attempt that now. "We're just holding hands and occasionally not holding hands to take sips from our drinks." He looked at the cup and seriously considered for a moment if he could drink from it with just his mouth. Probably not. So they were just 3 shirtless dudes holding hands in a circle.

This situation totally looked like they were summoning some demons. One other rule of ghost month was stay away from doing or following suspicious things, No need to tempt the demons. They were definitely looking very enticing to any demons, three shirtless dudes from across the galaxy, holding hands under an ominous green light in the RRW P'Low. Totally sus. "No demons. We are just holding hands," Renakir confirmed, giving both Eshen and Allan reassuring nods. "Oh drink.. Yeah uhh.. I have Romulan ale too," Even if he was going to be the only one drinking, he still had a giant bottle of it on the table paired with his empty grey cup. He looked down at their joined hands, realising how scandalous it looked. Thankfully the green glow from the lantern covered up the blush across his cheeks but this was incredibly intimate. "... You guys aren't too cold, right?" He asked, suddenly feeling very awkward and looking at his shirtless friends he could only imagine how cold they were. The P'Low was actually pretty toasty with all 3 of them in it, but still, Renakir feared he was freezing his friends to death.

"Oh, alright. Well, maybe we should do something else, then. Truth or dare? Like when we did that sleepover, Allan." This whole thing kind of did have sleepover vibes, even though they weren't sleeping over. "Or perhaps we could tell ghost stories? The green light could be our campfire." He briefly let go of one of Renakir's hand so he could sip his hot chocolate, then held it again. "Don't worry about the temperature - I grew up in a cold country so I have a higher cold tolerance than most Vulcans." Saying that, he did nearly get a cold the other day, but that was because he forgot to ask Renakir to turn up the thermostat when he left. "I'll have some ale after my hot chocolate."

"Conisdering I haven't succeeded in summoning any ghosts yet, I don't have any ghost stories to tell," Allan said, "so I think that truth or dare would be okay. Do you know how the game works, Renakir? It's sort of self-explanatory, but it's simple regardless," he also briefly let go of Renakir's hand to drink the hot chocolate as he analyzed successfully that he wouldn't be able to do it with no hands, and then held his hand right back again. "I'm fine too about the cold. Like I said, I brought the huge scarf you made me, so I can kind of just put that around us if need be." As if putting his shirt back on wasn't an option he could also take.

"Truth or... Dare?" Renakir was unfamiliar with the game, but as Allan said the name was pretty self explanatory. 'Truth' was not exactly a word that translated to Rihannsu very well, but he understood the nuance it had in Standard. "I would like not to encourage spirits in the place where I sleep. Truth or dare is fine," He replied, noticing everyone was sipping from their cups-- except him. Although his eyes were staring at the lovely blue bottle of Romulan ale sitting on the table. He was glad it wasn't too col for them too, the RRW P'Low was cozy and there was also more blankets and pillows scattered around if they really needed something warm. Reman blankets, the warmest there was! "I am afraid I have never played this game. Well, we have a game similar amongst Romulans but I think that version would be very much illegal on a Federation Starbase," What were Romulan children doing?? Murdering each other, obviously. "Neth Lyreth nah'lai Llai, it rhymes but it means truth or death. Anyway I assume we will not be engaging in illegal activities?"

"No, although I think we have a similar one, actually - ngIl ghap vItHay', which is 'dare or duel', or more specifically 'truth duel', in which the person telling the truth can be accused of lying and if so the accused and accuser fight and whoever wins is declared the honest one." He paused. "You know, Romulans and Klingons really do have a lot in common. Surak and Kah'less help the Federation if they ever decide to team up against us again." He'd have to fight his own people. Awkward. He let go of both their hands so he could wrap a blanket 'round his shoulders, since it was getting a bit chilly. Then he held their hands once again. "But the earth version is much less dangerous. Someone asks you if you want truth, which is to be asked a question and you must answer honestly, or dare, which is... I'll let Allan explain the rest. Is that real Romulan Ale, by the way?" Truth or dare was always more fun when everyone was a bit tipsy, and he thought maybe he'd feel a little more like himself if he loosened up a bit.

"They had that in Boston, actually, too," much less violent after Earth decided to be much more peace-focused than it was before the war, so they were more 'friendly' fights than anything, but they still happened from time to time. "Not as uh, intense though, I guess." For some reason, watching Eshen wrap a blanket around his shoulders made him feel somewhat colder, so he also took this time to wrap the scarf Renakir had made him around himself and then held both their hands again. "Yes! And the thing with truth is like, you have to answer honestly, there's not like, a hidden lie mechanic, but you can choose to do a dare instead if you don't like the question. And so what a dare is, is the person asking you truth or dare, if you so pick dare, chooses something to dare you to do. Like send a crazy message to the Captain or something."

Renakir actually laughed when Eshen mentioned the Klingon version. Dare or duel actually sounded fun, but there was no way he was going to fight Allan. Maybe some day him and Eshen could play that one. "If Romulans and Klingons team up to fight the Federation well... That would be very awkward for us wouldn't it?" Renakir didn't say it, but if that ever happened, he'd probably be at a loss of what to do. On one hand he loved the Federation and the opportunities they gave him, but on the other hand he was actually quite proud to be Romulan and Reman. It would totally depend on what was at stake. If the Romulans were being spacist and trying to conquer the galaxy, of course he'd fight them. "And no it is not real ale. I would have my father send me a bottle, but for customs always catches it. Something something, poison, I wish they would understand that's jut the Romulan way, but whatever," Was it not customary to send your son three bottles of ale, one with poison? It was to keep him on his feet, obviously. "Uh-huh I think I understand the rules," He nodded when he listened to Allan explain the rules. Making a Romulan tell the truth? Not to be Romulan, but he would never. Anyway he watched the two bundle up and drink their warm drinks, still not touching his cup. Too... Nervous now. "Who goes first?"

Hell yeah. Duel or Dare with both of them. Both of them were liars, so there would probably be a lot of dueling. Well, usually. Eshen tried to be honest with people in his Circle of Honesty, obviously, and Renakir was pretty honest for a Romulan. "Aw. Well, I might still have some left over that I basically keep around just for you. I could go look in my room, if you want. Okay, so, how about... Allan, truth or dare?" He asked, because Allan was next in the post order.

"I mean, Rennie..." Allan looked from Renakir and then to the side of the RRW P'low where they had entered from, smirking. "I know you said no illegal activities, buuut, you mentioned replicator hacks earlier and, I'm sure you know, there's a fairly simple replicator hack that could get you some real ale," he'd done it before plenty of times - mostly in the Academy, where one of his roommates would end up having to be cut off before the party even started but it was still a fun time. "And, uhhh.... let's go with truth," For now. Truth was usually a good one to start off with.

"You are really asking a Romulan OPS officer who specialises in replicators and transporters how to hack a Starfleet replicator to make real Romulan ale?" Renakir gave Allan the-- Romulan eyebrow raise of judgement. Just as intimidating as the Vulcan eyebrow raise, but scarier because it usually meant murder. He pondered the proposal for a couple seconds before letting go of his friends' hands. "I'll be right back," Renakir said before crawling out of the RRW P'Low and to the common area where the replicator was.

Eshen used the hand that was no longer holding Renakir's to cover his mouth as he snorted in laughter, which was the first time he'd laughed in a while. "You're asking me to do something illegal, he says, then goes and does something illegal? For a guy with a bad sense of humour, Renakir sure is funny. Alright, Allan, um - Kirk, Picard, Sisko, FMK?" Three whole Starfleet Captains, and yet only one held all the hair - the most promiscuous one, coincidentally. Was there some sort of correlation? Janeway must've been a real harlot, then.

Allan also broke out into laughter as Eshen pointed out that yeah, Renakir had really gone and done that. "God, yeah, he - he really just..." he laughed some more, then shook his head, taking a last sip of the good hot chocolate with his free hand and then looking back at Eshen. "Um," he thought for a moment and then realized this was a no-brainer. "Fuck Kirk, marry Sisko, kill Picard, very easy and I stay winning, because if Sisko's okay with it, Kirk doesn't really strike me as a just-one-time kinda guy, soo." He shrugged.

It was a very good thing Renakir was hacking the replicator to make some Romulan ale because he totally would have been scandalised if he heard what Allan and Eshen were talking about in regards to famous Starfleet captains. He soon returned with a tall bottle of lovely aqua blue liquid. Crawling back into the RRW P'Low with the bottle tucked under his arm. "Here it is, the real thing. Don't ask me how I did it, it's a Romulan only secret," He said as he placed the bottle on the table and then took his seat between Eshen and Allan, not holding hands because he had to use his hands to pour himself a glass of ale. Real ale. "Warning, Romulan ale is actually very strong, even many Romulans have trouble keeping it down, in fact most drink it solely to show off that they can," Renakir told his friends. "Me however, I drink it because I genuinely enjoy it," Renakir said before grabbing his little cup now full of ale and drinking it like a shot glass. It was a good thing he replicated a stone cup for himself, it would have been horribly embarrassing if he just scratched up his cup while drinking ale which so often happened.

Eshen finished off the last of his hot chocolate, a lovely innocent sweet treat, then poured himself a glass of Romulan Ale, taking a swig then wincing. Then he grabbed Allan's hand and said, "Renakir, you have the alcohol tolerance of a Vorta. Be careful, Allan, this is very strong even for Vulcanoids." He knew Allan could handle his drink, but this was on another level. It was like asking him to lift a car or something. Humans could only handle so much. "Also, hmmm, someone give me a dare?"

Allan smiled as Renakir really brought in a full bottle of Romulan ale. Damn, the man really did it, huh. The engineer didn't mention that he also knew how to replicate the real thing, but as far as -drinking- it, well. "Oh, of course," he said as he also poured himself a glass of Romulan ale, although he did not take a swig and instead just the smallest of little sips, basically a droplet and also winced, like a child trying a sip of beer for the first time. "Ooh, yeah. It's..." he set the glass down and held hands again. "It's definitely a lot stronger than for some reason I remember it. Then again, I probably don't really remember much from the Academy parties that had Romulan ale anyways," weird that he used to do that to himself, but such was the Party Culture there. "A dare? Uhh... Renakir, any ideas?"

Renakir put down his empty cup and poured himself more ale, he wasn't kidding when he said he genuinely enjoyed the drink. It was crazy, but Renakir loved trying all sorts of alcohol. He never seemed to get drunk, oddly enough. Vulcanoid metabolism or maybe he just held his liqueur well. Remans didn't drink Romulan ale and he'd go back to the charred rock of Remus if he was to drink with his Romulan family (besides Rai and his father). He was amusing himself watching his friends drink the nectar of his people when Allan directed the question at him. "A dare? Well... Can I dare you to... Take a shot of ale?" Renakir was at a loss for a good dare that didn't involve murder. Damn, why did he think about murder so much?!

Boo. Boring dare. He drank the rest of his glass like a shot, grimacing, but he was getting used to it, picking up the flavours beneath the burn. "That was easy. Renakir, it's your turn next, I believe. Truth or dare?"

Renakir actually really liked seeing his friends enjoying Romulan ale. Actually, he liked just enjoying food and drinks with friends because it didn't happen often because he was still self conscious about being Reman. "My turn? Oh umm," This was a hard decision. He's Romulan so truth was honestly just as bad as a dare, but at the same time dare would probably be something very uncomfortable for him. Or something incredibly stupid... Wait, it's ghost month, maybe not dare. "Truth, but I'm Romulan, it's physically impossible for me to ever tell the truth-- I'm kidding but yes truth."

Eshen tapped his chin. "Alright. Let's start with a cute one. Do you know what the five love languages are? It's ways you prefer to express affection: words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and giving and/or receiving gifts. What would you say are your top three? Mine's physical affection, quality time, and acts of service, but... If I'm being totally honest, I kind like to give all of those and receive them, too. I mean, most people do, really. I like to think I'm good at giving them, too, but I suppose both of you will have to be the judge of that." Then he held Renakir's hand again, still holding Allan's. Physical affection, the love language: exemplified. "Although I'm not sure if cooking and cleaning for someone counts as an act of service or a gift..."

The 'truth' question was rather tame, thankfully. Well, it's not like Renakir had ever done anything spicy or dastardly. Not out of his own free will at least. Sometimes people are put in situations that force them to commit evil acts, as his father would say. Anyway, love languages. Renakir looked down at their joined hands, trying to push all his paranoia from his mind. 'They're not going to stab me, if anything they are afraid that I will stab them. I'd never do that, don't freak out', was Renakir's whole internal monologue. Why was it so hard just to have normal relationships? He blamed it on Romulan education not teaching any socialisation skills until children were teenagers. Imagine, no socialisation until you're 15. Wild. "I chose truth so I am going to give you the truth. My top three would be... Acts of service, because I would commit murder for the people I love and I would hope they would do the same. Then quality time because existing in the same room whilst not murdering each other is a sign of trust, and lastly.. Words of affirmation. Because I am touched when you and Allan compliment my Reman features. I wish I was better at giving compliments,"As always, his words were calculated and thoughtful. It was a truth question and his friends were probably not surprised to hear he was paranoid about everything all the time. And water is wet. "And you are very good at showing affection, Eshen. You too, Allan. I.. I am still making baby steps."

Allan listened as Eshen asked the question about love languages carefully. It'd been a while since he'd remembered that was even a thing at all, and it was equally as interesting to think about each time. "I think it's probably both...?" He wondered aloud as Eshen said he wasn't sure if cooking and cleaning were acts of service or gifts. For the record, his own, or at least the love languages he'd pick at this present moment - for some reason they liked to shift depending on when someone asked - were words of affirmation, quality time, and physical touch. It was interesting that two of three of Renakir's answers had justifications involving murder, but they actually made a lot of sense, to the point where Allan agreed, nodding slowly. "And you can take as many baby steps as you want, no need to rush yourself," Allan said, giving Renakir's hand a small squeeze. "I mean, everyone goes at their own pace, I for one have been doing this whole thing for ... a lot of years." He wasn't sure about Eshen, but he could assume Eshen may had at least more practice in showing affection than Renakir had.

"And we appreciate your baby steps, Renakir," Eshen said, squeezing Renakir's hand too. "I've been doing this... I mean, I've been like this... Since the Academy. About four and a bit years, so not that long, actually. But I didn't receive much affection when I was younger. I know what it's like to live in that sort of... Void. So I try to be the kind of person that can fill up other people's lives with affection, and hopefully, um, receive it in turn." Sort of talked about his childhood there. He wasn't sure either of them actually knew all that much about it, actually. Nalas was the one who knew the most. He knew a bit about Renakir's childhood, had even been to his house, but Allan... He actually didn't know that much about Allan's childhood at all. "Allan, back to you. Truth or dare? And please say truth. I can't think of a specific question, but I'd like to know what it was like for you growing up on Earth. You had a pretty multicultural upbringing, right? Sort of like me, but less, um, interplanetary."

Renakir smiled softly at the compliments from his friends. He was glad they weren't judging him for always thinking about murder. Paranoia was ingrained in every fiber of his being, he couldn't help it. He squeezed his friends' hands back, still feeling a bit scandalised sitting in the RRW P'Low holding hands, but they were both his daelhen. "Thank you, you two," He said with all his sincerity. He was surprised to hear that Eshen had only been more open with affection since the academy. Why did he think he-- wait that's right, Eshen changed himself when he joined Starfleet. He briefly remembered the other speaking about it right after the whole virus incident. It was the reason why Eshen trusted Renakir to be one of the first people to see him with short hair. Because if anyone knew how it felt to be ashamed of your whole identity as a sentient being it was Renakir. Then Renakir looked towards Allan, waiting to hear his response. He didn't actually know much about Allan's past and was curious what sort of secrets it held. Like why his name was... Allan.. Allen.

Allan took that 'hopefully, um, receive it in turn' from Eshen and internalized it as a Personal Note for the future, because there was no way in hell he'd be dating this man and not giving him exactly what he wanted. "I guess I've got to say truth? Or we could do the workaround where you dare me to tell you about growing up on Earth, but like, choosing truth is a little more simple," he laughed, which was really a bunch of words to buy him time on how to actually think about the question. What was it like growing up on Earth? In his head it didn't stand out because he hadn't grown up anywhere else, but he supposed there were some things that stood out about it. "I guess the cool part about where I grew up was it really was... multicultural, as you said it, yeah? Like I lived in Puerto Rico for like, most of my childhood because my entire mom's side of the family was from there, and that meant like... a LOT of cousins and parties, and then when I was a teenager we moved to Boston where my dad's side of the family was, it was really different? Like, I'm sure you've heard things about America being crazy, but it's actually really crazy in like, every sense of the world. I mean, so was Puerto Rico, but like. In a completely different way somehow. I don't know if that actually answers the question, though. It was fun?" He was never too great at answering questions, not even at the Academy, but he tried his best, at least. The more specific a question got the better he actually was with answering it. (edited)

Eshen let go of Allan's hand to sip some Romulan Ale, then saw goosebumps on his arm in the green light and suddenly realised he was fucking freezing. He reluctantly let go of Renakir's hand too so he could burrito himself in his blanket and then lean against Allan for warmth. As much as he enjoyed holding their hands, he needed to conserve heat. At no point did it occur to him to put his shirt back on. "That sounds pretty fun. I'd follow up with my own story of life on Earth, but honestly, it was complicated and also very boring. My best memories are swimming in lakes that were far too cold for me and gardening with an old lady." A lightbulb appeared over Eshen's head. Metaphorically. "You know, I think it would be nice if the three of us went to Puerto Rico and slash or Boston next shore leave. Although Puerto Rico's pretty hot, isn't it? Maybe not ideal for Renakir. If we could work out some way to do it, I think that would be neat. I like the idea of the three of us being... holiday friends." Plus maybe Renakir might actually have a fun time there instead of riding buses most of the time. "Next up is me. Dare if either of you can think of an interesting one, but if not, truth."

Renakir was vaguely familiar with terran geology. With so many planets with unique districts and terrain, it was hard remembering which places were which. Although he could imagine people probably felt the same way about Romulan space and their plethora of different colonies. As he listened to Allan, and then Eshen speak, he noticed his two friends were getting chilled. He thought the P'Low was warm, but not to M-class standards. He actually thought it was cute seeing his friends bundled up, especially because the blankets in the fort were handcrafted Reman blankets! Made by his other Reman dad Onusuk. He was a funny guy, spoke Singaporean Havrannsu or whatever you'd call it. "Puerto Rico?" The name sounded spanish, and those places were hot so that would be a no, but then Eshen suggested Allan's other hometown Boston! Renakir let go of his friends' hands as they bundled up and poured himself more ale. It was a good thing he held his alcohol well. "I would visit earth again, but I'd have to get a whole luggage of sun lotion," If there was one thing he learned on earth it was their sun was intense. "A dare? Hmm, show us the oldest photo of yourself on your PADD," Was that good for a dare? He didn't know. "Or i could get you a spoonful of wasabi to eat."

As Eshen leaned against him, Allan sort of just wrapped the scarf Renakir had made him around both their shoulders and indeed bundled up, wrapping his arms around Eshen to hold him to make sure he'd be warm. At no point did it occur to Allan either to put his shirt on, because why would he? He had a scarf and the warmth of Eshen's blanket and Eshen himself. He was fiiine. "That doesn't actually sound boring, but ookay," He looked at Eshen, then to Renakir, suddenly excited when they seemed to both be open to the idea of visiting his place on Earth. "Really? That'd be really cool, actually, I'm sure my parents would love meeting you guys too. I always switch it up whether we go to Puerto Rico or Boston over the winter, so we could totally go Boston if that's better for you," he said, smilling at Renakir. "In fact, if we could go down at a point where it's cold enough to snow, you wouldn't even really need the sun lotion! Or maybe you would, but ya know, not as much." He reached back and took another one of the blankets to wrap it around both himself and Eshen like an ultimate little burrito as he listened to Renakir give the dare - plural dares, really, giving Eshen a choice was an interesting way of going about it for sure!

Eshen was bundled up, PEAK snuggling, MAXIMUM comfort, LITTLE BIT tipsy, thinking about: "We could throw snowballs with our mittened hands... Well, Renakir wouldn't need any mittens... Build a snow epohh, and then I could make stuffed Targ with roasted potatoes, honey-glazed carrots and parsnips, gravy, cranberry sauce, and christmas pudding for dessert... Or whatever American or Puerto Rican seasonal foods Allan wants. And of course, Reman food for Renakir..." He stopped himself from fantasising before he got too lost in the sauce. "Anyway, I have a lot of photos of myself, that one might take a while. Let's do the wasabi. Someone will have to feed me it, though, I don't want to leave my cocoon." He had excellent spice tolerance, so he could probably deal with some wasabi, right? Klingons dared one another to eat ludicrously spicy foods all the time, in fact, as a test of strength and will.

"Snow epohh? I like that idea, and Boston sounds nice,"Renakir chimed in, also imagining what their winter holiday would look like. Boston sounded nice, although he wasn't so sure he'd be able to understand the accents. Despite his polyglot skills, deviations from standard pronunciations often threw him for a loop. Funny coming from a man who literally spoke Havrannsu which was almost its own language. 'And of course, Reman food for Renakir,' there was something endearing about those words that tickled the tips of his ears like a light breeze on a sunny day. "I have no problem eating terran food, but I would appreciate Reman cuisine as always," Renakir had spent his whole life catering to other people's comfort levels, even immersing himself in alien cultures just to feel some sense of belonging, it was strange to hear someone offering him something for once. A light blush dusted his cheeks before he got up from his spot and crawled towards the opening of the P'Low. "I'll get the wasabi," Renakir said before disappearing into the darkness that awaited outside of the pillow fort. He returned only a couple minutes later with the wasabi in a tiny bowl with some chopsticks. "Alright, umm... Allan, sorry, could you do the honours?" Renakir was still getting used to holding hands and hugging, feeding someone was-- somehow it felt more intimate. He held the chopsticks and tiny bowl of wasabi out for Allan to take if he agreed.

"A snow epohh does sound really fun," Allan agreed, although he hated snow and the sub-freezing temperatures that came along with it, building a snow epohh - or at the very least, admiring the finished product when it was completed - sounded like an ideal Snow Thing to Do. "And I super love the idea of making all our favorite foods, that just sounds amazing overall," Especially being able to make different foods together as a group sounded really fun, it was always a fun thing to do but was even better during the holiday season somehow. Maybe they could even frost little Christmas cookies! That could be fun too. When Renakir handed him the bowl of wasabi, he took one of his arms from out of the blanket cocoon to take the bowl and kept his other around Eshen as he picked up the wasabi with the chopsticks. "Oh, of course," he said, holding the wasabi up to Eshen's mouth so he could eat it without getting himself out of the little blanket cocoon. What else were boyfriends for?

Eshen immediately chomped the wasabi, unafraid! It couldn't be too hard anyway, right? He could take spicy, and it's not like he'd never had wasabi before. He winced, coughed, and went a little green but seemed otherwise fine, for now. "No challenge for a valiant Klingon such as I," Eshen said, cuddling Allan in a truly warrior-like fashion. "Allan, could you get me some ale, too?" He was not yet satisfactorily sloshed. "Also, who's next? Actually, I dare the rest of you lot to eat some too."

"I'd like to go skiing too, or something like that, I love winter sports. Not ice hockey, the most I'll do is skating or curling," Odd that someone like Renakir would dislike literally the more violent winter terran sport, but he had his reasons. Mostly wanting to keep all his teeth although unlike humans, Reman teeth actually did grow back. All of our favourite foods did sound nice. Reman food, but also there were some terran foods he liked. Christmas was no joke in France. In face he nearly believe someone who told him France invented Christmas. His put his thoughts on hold when his friend took the wasabi and chopsticks from him and looked at Eshen to see what he could do. "You fight with honour," Renakir was thoroughly surprised at the ferocity his friend consumed the wasabi. Damn, he really could take anything. Beyond Eshen's ability to eat the wasabi with no problem, watching Allan feed it to him was quite cute. If only he wasn't so paranoid. There were a lot of small little platonic acts that the two did that made Renakir wish he could be more forward with others. "Us? I need to grab more wasabi, wait I'll return again," Renakir got back on his hands and knees and crawled out of the RRW P'Low.

"Skiing sounds fun, although I actually don't think there's skiing in Boston since that's usually a mountains thing. I'd be down to try it out though! And skating.. man, I love skating," he really loved skating in any sense of the word. Skateboarding and hoverboarding were definitely his favorites out of all of them, but ice skating and roller skating were just as fun to do with lovers and friends and anyone else you wanted to spend your time with. "Mmmhm, of course," He said both in response to Eshen saying it was no challenge for him and to get him some more ale. The engineer kissed him on the top of the head and then did exactly that, pouring some more ale into Eshen's glass and bringing it up to his lips, tilting it sloooowly because otherwise it might spill! He watched as Renakir went off to get more wasabi for them to have. "Man... it's actually been a long time since I've had wasabi. I forget what it tastes like compared to like, raw ginger or jalapeños."

Eshen looked up at Allan adoringly as he was kissed on the head, drank basically all the rest of the ale if Allan let him, then continued to look at him adoringly, kissing him on the cheek. "I'd like to go ice skating. Even though I lived near lakes, I was sort of a shut-in against my own will so I didn't get to do as much of it as I'd've liked; that said, I'm still good at it." He was very graceful, a swan on the ice. He wouldn't mind becoming a professional, but the cold would probably be too bad for him in the long term. "Wasabi tastes like... Something to the left of spicy? I'm not sure how to describe it. Also, tell me if I'm being too clingy. Also also, I love you."

Renakir replicated some wasabi and some more authentic ale. He wished his father's shipment of ale got through customs, but he knew it woudl never happen. Cerrub would either have to send a full shipment of un-poisoned bottles or nothing at all and clearly the only option for the Romulan father was the latter. Anyway, Renakir headed back to his private room and crawled back into the RRW P'Low. "Okay, got more wasabi," He placed the tiny bowl with two bits of wasabi on the table, along with another bottle of ale. "You doing okay, Eshen? Not too much ale for you?" They were both Vulcanoid, but still he was concerned for his friend drinking so much ale. Even Romulans struggled with the enticing blue liquid. "Wanna eat the wasabi together, Allan?" He picked up a separate pair of chop sticks and scooped some wasabi from the little bowl.

"I'm sure you are," Allan said, putting the glass of ale down and for a moment wondering if there was anything his boyfriend wasn't good at as he looked adoringly right back at him. "And... just so you know, I don't think there's a 'too clingy' in this situation." After all they were cold and in love and so what else was the natural conclusion here other than to cuddle so closely with each other? "Also, I love you too." He smiled and kissed his cheek before Renakir walked in with the wasabi, and his attention shifted to his friend and... the wasabi. "Yeah, let's get this over with," he said with a laugh, removing one arm from the blanket cocoon again to take a pair of chopsticks and scoop the other bit of wasabi from the bowl. As soon as he ate it, he shook his head. "God, that is fucking.. insane," he had no more hot chocolate left unfortunately, so he just had to follow this up with a small sip of the ale to attempt at calming the spicy feeling that was do much different than hot peppers in that it went up to your nose instead of just your mouth - which was a crazy different feeling.

"What? No, I'm fiiine," Eshen said, sniffing a few times, face still a little green. Yeah, it really did go up your nose, like some kind of... Spicy mustard. "I'm only a little tipsy! Which is about the amount of tipsy I wanted to be." He gently bonked Allan's cheek with his forehead. "Allan, you need to drink more so we can be equal amounts of tipsy." Shouldn't take much more considering Romulan Ale was even stronger for humans. "I love both of you so much."

Renakir plopped the bit of wasabi into his mouth and ate it slowly, actually pondering over the taste. It really did go up your nose, it heightened his already high sense of smell. Despite the non-reaction he was giving, his whole face was turning green to match the spicy paste. A few seconds later he was pouring himself more ale and chugging it as fast as he could. Romulan cuisine wasn't particularly spicy and Reman food was much the same. Renakir swore he could smell the ashes of his homeworld with how sharp the wasabi made his sense of smell. "Tenakruvek! That's spicy,” Renakir sat there with his mouth wide open, breathing in and out like a giant fucking whale or something. That was definitely spicy, opened up all his senses.

Allan laughed and leaned down to bump his forehead into Eshen's when Eshen bumped it into his cheek. "Hmmm, maybe," he looked at the bottle of ale, smiling as he watched Renakir absolutely chug that shit after the wasabi. Man, he could never. But mostly because he was human. "Buut only because I love you." He watched Renakir react to the wasabi still as he poured himself some more ale. "No shit, really?" He gave the other a warm smile before sipping the ale very slowly still like he had done before because God, this shit tasted like pure cleaning product and that wasn't a particularly great taste. The things he did for love.

Eshen giggled incessantly at Renakir gasping because of the wasabi. This was the happiest he'd felt in a while; maybe getting drunk was good for you, actually! "I don't remember who's next... And to be honest, my brain is losing its ability to make coherent sentences, so I've got a few Truth questions for anyone who wants them and then we should... um... do whatever happens after that? My questions are... Are you religious? What's one thing you find attractive in a person? What's one skill you wish you had? And... if you could say anything you wanted to an ex, no consequences, what would you say? Arranged marriages count." Yes, that was a question tailor-made specifically for both of them. There was Valleka, and he knew Allan had History, and this was a game about catharsis, really. "

The heat still had not dissipated from his sinuses so Renakir did the one thing he could do-- chug more ale. He poured himself a tall one and chugged it once again. Mid-way through his drinking it hit him that this was not synthol. He was used to drinking ale (synthol type) like water that he completely forgot he needed to be more cautious with the real stuff. That's what happens when synthol tastes so real. He put his stone grey cup down and took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes and focusing on what his friend was saying. Wow that was a lot of questions. "Religion, well I'm Reman so Tenakruvek. This may seem messed up but ancient Reman beliefs were once you died, if you were good in life, you were reincarnated as a Romulan on Romulus. I know, what the hell, but that's what they believed," Renakir remembered telling Maggie about that, what a messed up belief. "The one thing I find attractive in a person is.. Intelligence and reliability. And skill? I wish I was cool and open like you and Allan. And exes... Well, that means Valleka and well, I want to say things that are not appropriate for ghost month," He said, his French accent even stronger now that he had a quite a bit of ale.

Allan, meanwhile, was already feeling the effects of his small bits of ale he'd been just sipping so carefully. "You want me to get equal amounts of tipsy but you..." he looked at Eshen a little confused, "are going to ask me... that's so many questions." His little tipsy brain could hardly comprehend that many questions in one go when he was sober, really. And then he listened to Renakir answer them, which only made his mind forget the questions more because he cared more about his friend's answers than he did about preparing his own. He couldn't remember the religion question already and threw out the attractiveness question because his brain convinced him it was only his top thing he found attractive and he could not think of Just One. Even though Renakir said two, his brain said he had to have just one so nope! Not that question, so on to the next. "Umm, skills, maybe reading? Like, really being able to understand the fine literature shit maybe?" He looked across to Renakir, wondering if what he had said made any sense at all. "And umm, the exes thing I think I? I think I've already said all that. And if it has no consequences then there's nothing." What he meant was that he'd said what he'd already said to his bad exes and to his good ones, he would only want to say something if consequences would exist. Particularly to T'alea. But the ale really impeded his ability to say all that.

"No fair, I gave you guys an opportunity for catharsis and you didn't take it," said Eshen, pouting childishly. "I want to know more things about you guys, even the bad things. Well, I'd tell my bastard of an ex you don't get to use me to figure out your sexuality and piss off back to Qo'nos. And that's not even my only ex! But I won't go on about that all day, it's depressing. I'm, like... The thing where you date multiple religions... polytheistic, and I wish I understood mathematics and engineering like Allan, or cool science stuff like Nalas, or even turbolifts! We have so much technology and science around us and I barely understand any of it! No fair. And the thing I find attractive is... By Kah'less, everyone's so attractive. But passion, I think, and creativity, and... fighting well, because that's hot, and wittiness, because I like someone who can make me laugh, and... being very tall or very short or the same height as me... and... red hair..." At some point during his rambling he'd buried his face into Allan's shoulder and just started mumbling into it. His accent had suddenly gone from posh British to northern English. "Rennie, we can teach you how to be cool when we're sober, okay? But also, you are cool, in the Rennie way. You are so cool."

Being Romulan, he was not done with the ale. He was never done with the ale no matter how strong it was. Renakir kept his hands steady as he poured himself another full cup and drinking as he listened to his friends speak. The alcohol was definitely getting to him because he didn't even knew what the word 'catharsis' meant. All of the words were starting to blend together in his brain, but he just kept drinking. At least this time he was drinking slower. He enjoyed listening to his friends talk about what skills they wanted, Allan wanted to read more and Eshen wanted more technical knowledge. It really got Renakir thinking-- could he possibly have desirable skills? Maybe he did have more positive traits about him than he thought. "I'd love to help yo read more, Allan," Renakir first responded to his human friend, putting down his now empty cup. "And Eshen, I'd teach you about turbolifts and replicators. Maybe a couple of the hacks I know," For educational purposes only! Obviously. And when Eshen said he was cool 'in a Rennie way' it made him smile. "I.. I still don't think I am very cool, 我就是乱七八糟，并不是," Oh Tenakruvek was he really that drunk? Renakir took a deep breath and tiled his head back in an attempt to steady his thoughts. "I am drunk."

"I don't even know what catharsis means right now, babe," Allan said, pouting right back. What a crazy word! Catharsis. Only thing that could come to his mind was a cathode and those surely had nothing to do with each other. But the pout quickly went away as Eshen described things he found attractive, which had him smiling instead, squeezing Eshen a little in the embrace they were currently in before thinking of a Stupid Joke. "Ah. So you're really into the Captain, huh?" He chuckled and his smile simply stayed while Renakir said he could teach them things! "Really? Wow, but see, this makes you cool too? Like... if you can help me understand reading and shit and oh! Oh, we could both help Eshen with turbolifts and replicators and all that cool shit!" Even though he was definitely drunk at this point, he was still very excited at the prospect of teaching his boyfriend things together with his bestie! "Oh but, he's right, though, Rennie, drunk or not, you are so fucking cool. I mean, I know about the shades and all but they automatically make anyone cooler, I think."

Oh no. A red-haired engineer? Very short? Mo fit the attraction quota! But no, he had a strange feeling it would never happen. "I am nooot! I just helped him with his nuts one time. And I can help you! Not with your nuts, I mean, unless you want me to, but, I mean, I know reading things. I'm Mr. Shakespeare. I could write you a sonnet... Do you want me to write you a sonnet? I could write you both a sonnet... And I wanna learn the cool tech hacks too... You know, I think we're all cool..." His voice got a little quieter, and he sniffled a bit, not just from the wasabi. Not only was he a lil drunk, he was also a lil sleepy and a lil weepy - not sad, but simply overcome with emotion and too drunk to Surak it away. Tipsy, sleepy and weepy - the three dwarves, or some sort of children's mascot with a television in its tubby belly.

Were they really all drunk, Reman Turbo Jesus be a fence. Renakir was struggling to keep his senses alert, it was honestly a little unsettling, He was a lover of Romulan ale, but he hated being drunk. It was a good thing he could hold his alcohol and that the replicators made synthol. He was sat there in the soft green light with his hands under his chin just trying to focus. Somehow when he was intoxicated his senses heightened, the noises became louder and everything seemed to blend together in a weird fondue of sound. "Cool, yeah," Were the two words Renakir had managed to say properly. He continued speaking after that, but it was a mix if Rihannsu that not even the UT could begin to make sense of. His mind was not only hazy, but he couldn't communicate. As if he wasn't usually terrible at getting his ideas across. Gentle, Renakir slapped his cheeks and took a deep breath to try and force himself to be coherent. "Thanks guys, I feel... Cool, when I am with you both. Tiravurik makes me feel cool too, but he's my dad so that's sorta his job. I wish Remans were cool though, like-- society wise. Why do we have to be grey, Tenakruvek died for our sins but not to cure us of looking like stones I guess."

Allan fucking lost it when Eshen said he helped the Captain with his nuts. What the fuck did you even say to something like that? "Y-you what!?" He said, laughing so hard he couldn't even continue with his line of questioning his boyfriend. He'd have to ask him about it later maybe, if he remembered it after he was sober that was. Eventually the laughter subsided, and he took a deep breath. "I would - I would love a sonnet, actually, we are - we are all soooo cool, yes," he took another sip of the ale even though that was definitely Against His Best Interests. He looked at Renakir for a solid moment after that, wondering if he was just extremely drunk to not be able to understand them or if he was hallucinating or maybe anything else other than the possibility that Renakir was also drunk. "Cool! Yes. Absolutely cool, we all are cool, you are cool, every Reman I've ever befriended is cool," Important distinction because there were some assholes that showed up to Brokuk's band party once, "society... man- fuck society. Don' listen to 'em."

"Yeah! Fuck society! Be who you want! I mean, I love society. I love all the social rules, but also, some of them are bullshit. It would be nice to not have to follow them all the time, but then people won't like me and I want everyone ever to like me. I used to have a whole set of rules I followed all the time... Literally written down, actually, but I remember them all. The first one was 'make a good first impression'. The second one was..." He bit his lip. It was 'make them think they know you', but he didn't do that so much these days. Character development. "Well, I don't really use them any more. And Renniiiiiie, stop saying that. Grey is just a colour. Did you know? Me and Allan are brown!" He said that last part as though it was some incredible discovery he'd just made. Breaking news: the sky is blue. Well, on Earth, anyway. "You don't need to cure yourself of your colour! And also, it suits you! You're a pretty stone man! Very cool!" He stopped hugging Allan for five seconds so he could give him a sloppy drunk smooch. "I will write you a sonnet, my love. But maybe... I'll make it a song and then we can sing it! Sing a sonnet. Sing a sonnet of sixpence. Sing a song of Starfleet, the apple of my eye... Four and Twenty Station, Station Sixty-Nine..." His singing was low and melodic, if a bit mumbly. Four and Twenty actually meant twenty-four in archaic terms, but he didn't care and in modern terms it just sounded like four twenty anyway.

If he was less intoxicated, maybe he wouldn't have laughed as loud as he did. It was a full on gaffaw with his mouth wide open and teeth reflecting the green glow of the lantern. He barely heard the comment about the nuts, instead his mind decided to focus on whatever incoherent rambling Eshen was on about. Four and twenty... Every Reman... Something something fuck society, it was as if his friends' voices had become one. Wait, were they all just becoming one entity? Was this The Great Link of the Founders? Before he did anything too stupid, Renakir leaned back on some pillows and rested his hands over his stomach. "Singing songs... Ahh I'd give you guys a beat," Renakir put his hands over his mouth and began to beat box along with Eshen's singing. Despite the ale clearly getting to him, his beatboxing skills were no joke, he could make a lot of strange noises thanks to his way the Reman mouth was shaped. Another plus to being a hybrid, he thought.

Allan was also trying his best to listen to what Eshen was saying, but it really did seem to all blend together, what with the drunkenness and the social rules? Rules? What were those? Set of rules... written? But not used any more..and they were brown and not grey.... Allan lost track. He was brought slightly back on track when Eshen kissed him, kissing him back of course and then now he was singing? A sonnet? About the 420 Station? Station 69? Sure, why not. "Yeah, yeah, you're - holy shit dude, you're actually really good at that." He looked away from Eshen for a moment to look at Renakir as he was beatboxing. So cool! "I would... sing too but I don't know the words, unless they repeat, do they repeat?" If they repeated, he absolutely would sing along because this was a pretty fire beat from Renakir.

"I mean, I only made up those four lines and I don't know if I have it in me to come up with more... Actually, yes, I do. Here's another version," he said, then sang to Renakir's beat: "See a sexy Reman, apple of my eye... Say you'll always be here, Allan Allen mine..." *He was overusing the apple of my eye rhyme a bit, but give him credit for being able to come up with his little drunk ditties at all! "Your beatboxing is fire, Rennie." Hotter than hobus, in fact. "You guys can sing whichever, I don't care." His logical mind would say they should probably go to one of their rooms soon. He was getting tired, and he wasn't sure if Renakir would let them sleep over. Unfortunately, logic had left the building.

Renakir's beatboxing was soft so they his friends could speak. Another plus to his Reman physiology was his increased lung capacity, he could go for much longer bars without taking a breath. He liked the look on Allan's face when he attempted to make sense of the jumbled lyrics Eshen was singing. They sure were a trio, all making music. He listened as his fellow hybrid started singing again, this time with a bit more coherence in the lyrics. Despite the shock from the phrase 'sexy Reman', he continued his beat. He was glad his friends were enjoying it, honestly beatboxing and rap battles is what kept him alive on Rator III, but that was a story for another time. He looked at Allan, anticipating some fire from him as Rennie had to use all his focus on the beat. The sounds were starting to slur together, but the beat was surprisingly even paced.

"Oh oh oh, this one is good yeah," Allan nodded as Eshen sang the other version. "You know I can't make up words for shit." he could only make up words when he was feeling creative randomly at 4am by himself, accompanied only by the dim neon light in his room and a pen. That was when he had written his binary love letter to Eshen, after all, and that was before they were even dating officially. Talk about random. "Renakiiir your beats are literally so fire, yeah," he looked back at Renakir, who was looking right at him. If he was expecting 'fire' from Allan, he wouldn't really get it because Allan was drunk and no thoughts in his head, but at 8pm on a Friday night you could maybe ask him again to freestyle and he might have something... maybe. A gamble, really. Still, though, he just repeated singing what Eshen had come up with for the new version, except instead of his own name he put in Eshen's, it was the same amount of syllables after all.

Eshen smiled dozily at Allan switching the names around and smooched him again. "You're very sweet. I love singing with you." Then he just sang along with them, repeating the same vocals, adding a few variations of decreasing lyrical quality, until he coughed a few times from the remaining wasabi burn and his singing slowed to a halt. He let go of Allan so he could applaud very softly, then wrapped his arms around him again. "Woo, Starlots, collab with Super-Star Solait..." He mumbled. This was it. He was finally out of juice. Sick jams juice. And every other kind of juice. He was snoozing on Allan's shoulder.

Renakir was not sleepy, although he was definitely tipsy. He stopped beat boxing when Eshen coughed, sensing it was time to slow down. It was getting harder to focus anyway, he forgot how strong real ale was. The last time he had it was during shore leave, but even then it was only a few glasses as the rest were poisoned (a loving gesture from his father, Romulans were weird). "Super-star Solait, ahaha maybe. I could have a fanclub-- Sunshines. That'd be cool," He mused, knowing it would never happen but in his tispy state he wondered what if. The Starlots and Super-star Solait, collab of the year, song of the year, competing on weekly music shows, getting bamboozled by photographers-- well that actually sounded terrible. Renakir let out a soft laugh as he looked between Allan and Eshen, their figures glowing under the soft green light. "Thanks for the hype," He said, his words slurring together. He was so tipsy he didn't even feel scandalised that his friends were smooching in his pillow fort d'deridex. Renakir leaned back and stared at the lantern in the centre of the fort, not going to sleep, but just.... Vibing and surviving.

Some time after his friends had left and all the epohh business was over, Renakir was in his quarters getting ready for work. It would be his first time leaving Kali-fal Madeleine alone and he was a little nervous. The blue epohh had been calm for the most part, eating food from her bowl and sleeping on her new bed Renakir had set in one of the wings of the RRW P'Low. The bed was a normal pet bed, but he covered it with his handcrafted Reman blankets so she would have extra warmth. It was a good thing epohhs didn't seem to mind the cold so he could keep the temperature at a frosty sub-zero level. "Kali-fal Madeleine, be good," Renakir told her as he gave her a few head pats. Six eyes stared up at him as the fluffy blue creature was unaware her father would be leaving her alone for eight hours. Renakir refilled her water and food bowl so she would have enough to eat whilst he was gone. She was also wearing a collar that tracked her vitals so if anything were to happen, he'd be notified. And with that he grabbed his sunglasses and headed to work!

As soon as Renakir entered his quarters he was greeted with the soft pitter patter of cloved hoofs hitting the carpeted floors. With one swift motion he swept the blue fluff ball up into his arms and gave her a loving nose boop. "Jolan tru to you too, Kali-fal Madeleine," Despite giving her a double name with the intention of having nicknames, Renakir seemed to prefer addressing her by her full name every time. What a king. What if people just called him Renakir Solait all the time? Too long, but still cool. Renakir carried the epohh to his quarters and set her down so they could crawl into the RRW P'Low together. "I gotta teach you some tricks, like how to defend yourself," Renakir said as he took his sunglasses off and placed them on the table in the middle of the pillow fort. Kali-fal Madeleine hopped into her father's lap and rested her head on his knee. "We gotta learn... How to play dead, how to charge, how to growl, oh and how to know when I need help. You know, in case someone just comes out of nowhere and stabs me, real fears." [D] The rest of the evening Renakir spent reading some French books to Kali-fal Madeleine and then they played together in the common room. Renakir was really out here trying to train his epohh for combat, but it was fun, even if most of the time Kali-fal Madeleine was just messing around.

Renakir was greeted by his fluffy blue epohh as soon as he walked through the doors, although this time he did not pick her up. He held out his hand and looked down at her. "Tharon'nah (Sit)," as soon as he gave the command Kali-fal Madeleine plopped her fluffy butt on the ground and stared up at her father. "Mnekha (Correct)! Kali-fal Madeleine!" He clapped his hands together and then picked up the little blue epohh. She was a faster learner, as expected from a Romulan animal. He walked into his private bedroom with her and quickly changed clothes. He was going to take her on a little walk. He put a harness on her (that looked oddly similar to the very ugly TNG Romulan uniform harnesses) and grabbed a leash to lead her out the door!

When Renakir got to his quarters he put his epohh down and took off her harness so she could run freely. He ducked into the RRW P'Low and picked up his PADD to check the news and the updated roster. Throwing off his sunglasses he was finally able to just chill in the dark under the soft green light of the singularity. The news was same same, the roster only had a few new names this time so it was a quick read. Right when he was about to put his PADD down so he could play with his epohh, he saw he had a message.

Sender: Rai S'Kivux Torre'vnau Dinam, it's Rai. I am writing this letter to apologise for not telling you I was on 777 earlier. I was speaking with a friend of yours, Lieutenant Satok Aylek? He was very kind. But there is more exciting news I want to bring. I know this may be hard to believe but... I have recently been accepted to the Officer Exchange Programme and will be serving onboard a Starfleet vessel. I have yet to be assigned to a ship, but I will keep you updated. Your friend Satok offered me peanut butter biscuits and I thought they were acceptable. I believe I am prepared for any other alien cuisine that may await me at my new posting. I heard about a terran food 'vegemite' that I want to try. - Your Dinam

03:22

Reading the message over once more, Renakir couldn't believe it. His brother-- the man who was so painfully Romulan that he wouldn't even try a fucking baguette was going to be an exchange officer? Something was up, was this a spy mission? Was Rai really not free of the Tal Shiar? Or is he a changeling? That's it, he must have been switched with a changeling. 'Dinam, have you gone mad?' is what he wanted to reply back, but that phrase did not even begin to explain the confusion that ran through his mind. Instead, Renakir was going to write a very professional and thought out message so he could properly explain why he was concerned.

To: Rai S'Kivux Torre'vnau From: Renakir I understand your busy, no worries. I have my duties here, sorry we couldn't meet. Second. What the fuck? - Your favourite Dinam.

[D] Not even a week after Rai had sent that message, Renakir received a reply. He was honestly on the edge of his seat the whole time. He wondered how long it would take before Rai got his face stuck in a replicator or how long it would be before he overloaded the system trying to replicate bottles of Romulan ale. Oh there was so much potential for disaster.

To: Renakir Solait Torre'vnau, Starbase 777 From: Erei'Riov Rai S'Kivux tr'Torre'vnau Dinam, it's Rai. First, yes 'the fuck' second I am assigned to the USS Rapture. It's a nice ship with a very diverse crew. No Romulans it seems, and a lot of people here have never even spoken to a Romulan. I feel very alien. The COO came by and fixed my replicator to make real ale, how nice! I made my first official friend, an Andorian! I also spoke with a human engineer, a cool security human woman, a Betazoid-human. They're nice, but I miss home already. I hope you're doing well on 777, and if there are any tips you can give me about making alien friends I'd much appreciate it. - Your favourite dinam 'yes the fuck'?

Tips for befriending aliens. Well Renakir had Allan and Eshen and Am'el and... He couldn't really think of any 'tips'. Maybe don't talk about murder? Don't threaten people? The second was probably going to be tough for Rai. He knew his brother couldn't last a single minute without throwing out some weird ominous threats. Not that he had malicious intent, but that's what the Romulan military taught was 'proper'. Renakir began typing a response but quickly deleted it. He would have to consult his friends about this, or at least do some more research. Rai would wait, and hopefully the next time he heard from his brother it wouldn't be from the brig or something. 'Don't get yourself arrested' was Renakir's only thought.

After wracking his brain over what sort of advice he could possibly give to his brother, Renakir finally wrote up a reply.

To: Rai S'Kivux Torre'vnau From: Renakir Don't try to be cool because it comes off as try-hard and people aren't going to try to stab you with a baguette. Also I told Tiravurik about your assignment and he said he'll find a way to send you some snacks. - Renakir 'the brother of yes the fuck'

Now that the letter was done, he pressed send and headed out to work.

Dear Lt. JG. Renakir Torre’vnau, Starfleet Intelligence requests your presence on a classified mission. You are to be allocated to @deleted-role. A full briefing as to the nature of the mission will take place once the ship has departed. Eventide is to depart on stardate 89728.71 – the 23rd of September 2412 at 1700 hours. Please be aboard the vessel for this time. It is predicted that this mission shall last approximately three days including the time taken for travel. A full communications blackout will be in place during this time: there will be no communication with Starbase 777 or any other outside sources. Please do not inform anyone else as to the details of this journey. We hope you understand, and we thank you for your compliance. Yours, Starfleet Intelligence.

When Renakir returned to his quarters he was greeted with a message from... Starfleet Intelligence? He was selected to do what? Another away mission. A wave of fear swept over him as he held the PADD in his hand, re-reading the message over and over again. He tapped a few buttons to translate the message to Rihannsu, fearing that he missed something or that somehow this all wasn't what it sounded like. As he paced through his room, Kali-fal Madeleine stirred from her bed and went over to her father. The small epohh weaved in and out of Renakir's legs as he walked, trying to get his attention by jumping up on her hind legs and wiggling her antennae. All her attempts were to no avail as the Romulan-Reman officer's attention was stuck on the little handheld tablet he clutched between his two hands. The soft pitter patter of hooves shuffling against the carpet filled the room, getting more and more hurried each second. "Kali-fal," Renakir finally stopped pacing and looked at his daughter. "lhiu (Cease at once)," The command came out sharply, causing the tiny epohh to whimper and quickly back off, her antennae falling flat against her head. "Arhem usae (I'm sorry)," He turned and placed his PADD down on the floor, opening his arms for the blue fluffy epohh. Cautiously, Kali-fal Madeleine walked over to her father and hopped into his arms. "Kali-fal Madeleine," He took a deep breath and sat back against the leg of his desk, holding the epohh in his arms. "Arhem urri uae'faikaru. Rii urri eisll (I will be on an away-mission and I will be leaving today)," He told her, as if she could understand what he was saying. Kali-fal was a smart girl and even if she didn't understand every word, the solemn and serious tone in Renakir's voice hinted that what he said was bad news. The epohh nuzzled her head against her father's shoulder as her hoofs pressed on his chest. "Jol hwi arhem, okay? Kla-hnah, (I love you, be good)."

Back at home, Renakir was playing with Kali-fal. He had already modified his stolen disruptor, not to simply be disabled, but it now shot water. It did involve him having to take the whole thing apart and add a very tiny water cartridge, but it was worth it. Most of his day was spent doing that with a good amount of breaks to play with Kali-fal. After sending some messages in the chatroom he managed to set up a get together with one of his former teammates! He quickly set up Kali-fal with her harness and headed out the door.

[D] Arriving at his new shared quarters, Jijix hesitantly stepped inside. The Romulan felt a small flutter of excitement and nervousness, wondering if his cousin was home. Cousin. What a strange word. At the realization that Solait was away, he deflated a bit, both put of disappointment and relief. His cousin was his first anchor on this station. But at the same time, he was still unfamiliar. Jijix admired the quarters as he walked to his room, before setting down his bags. He pulled out a fee succulents, placing them around the room, and several knife stands, on which he set beautifully curved and hand-crafted blades. He continued unpacking, pulling out a few stone and wooden carvings of various animals, a pluahie or two of Romulan animals,and finally, his prized Vulcan lyre, which he set on a stand in the corner. He stood back, admiring the hastily put together decorations. It's home. My home now. Don't be afraid, he told himself. You'll like it.

Waddling out from behind one of the sofas, a tiny blue epohh made her way over to the newcomer. Epohh's had good hearing and what she was hearing was certainly not her father-- maybe a friend? Another OPS officer? With a fluffy mane and wiggling antennae, Kali-fal Madeleine walked right up to Jijix and looked up at him with all six eyes.

Hearing the quiet commotion, Jijix looked down and started back in surprise. Cautiously, he bent down, stretching out a hand to the epohh. "You must be Solait's epohh. He's my cousin, you know." He wasn't sure why he spoke to her, but did all the same. It certainly appeared as though the epohh wasn't trained to stab people with a knife, so Jijix doubted that the fluffy creature was an attempt on his life.

Kali-fal sniffed the stranger's hand for a few seconds while she tried to determined if he was a threat. Her ears perked up and she let out a confirming squeak to welcome this stranger as a friend! Cloved hoofs shuffled against the carpet as she gave Jijix's hand a single lick before trotting away. She returned only a few seconds later, dragging a disruptor by the strap towards the Romulan. She dropped it at Jijix's feet and stared at him as if trying to tell him something.

Okay, well, first time for everything. Maybe it WAS an attempt on his life. He suddenly grimaced and stepped back, shuddering at the disruptor. "What the- what're you doing with that?" His eyes shot from side to side. Why does Solait have a disruptor? To kill Jijix? Why? Some family feud that Jijix didn't know about? He leaned forward, trying to grab the disruptor and examine it.

Kali-fal squeaked when Jijix picked up the disruptor and stood on her hind legs. Six eyes blinked in unison as the epohh strutted around in a little circle with her antennae wiggling about. She looked happy with her mouth hanging open and front hoofs wiggling. The disruptor felt different than a typical disruptor, it was much less dense with some soldering marks on the side as if it had been sawed in half and then welded back together. The safety switch on the side was flipped off as well and the end of the gun was dripping with what appeared to be water.

He raised an eyebrow and gently touched the end of the gun, shaking water off his hands. He relaxed, tossing it a bit and cracking a smile. "I see." Jijix crouched, giving Kali-fal a pat or two and squirting her with the water gun. This... hadn't been what he'd expected, but that's okay. He liked it.

Kali-fal jumped around, squeaking in fake pain before falling on the ground and playing dead. After a few seconds she leaped back to her feet and waddled over to Jijix and looked up at him with a goofy epohh smile. She liked this new person even if she didn't know who he was. Was he a new playmate to look after her like that the day care? She made soft mewing noises, hoping to get praise for her successful completion of the trick.

He smiled softly and gave her a pat and a nod of approval, now sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Most impressive." He marveled at the soft fur and pretty eyes, the waving antennae and the spunky personality. Such complex creatures, and yet not. "I wonder what else you can do. Sit?"

Kali-fal nuzzled against Jijix's hand when pet and made soft mewing noises in happiness. She liked this person, he looked kinda like her dad, but also not. His skin was pale, not grey, and he didn't have floppy ears. To Kali-fal, all Vulcanoids kinda blended together as on Mol'Rihan she worked with Vulcan, Reman, and Romulan scientists. She opened her mouth again to try and nip at Jijix's fingers, but when she heard the command 'sit' she immediately plopped her fluffy butt on the ground. She was well trained!

He let out an uncharacteristic giggle (making sure he was alone first, of course). "Good girl." He reached out and tried to pick her up to cradle her in his arms. She was like a small peice of home, and Jijix was eager to grab onto that and not let go.

Kali-fal let out a small squeak when she was picked up, antennae wiggling about in happiness. She really liked this new person and was hoping he would stay. She remembered how difficult it was when her father had left her under the care of some unknown staff where she spent days with other alien creatures. Not that she didn't like it, but Kali-fal Madeleine easily grew attached to others. Her three-cloved hoofs wiggled along with her tail. She opened her mouth to show all her sharp teeth. She shared a lot of similarities with Renakir, well, except he wasn't nearly as cuddly or accepting of physical contact.

He smiled and held her close in a little, gentle hug so she wouldn't feel crowded, delighted that his cousin had such a cute and smart furry child. He patted her head before setting her down one last time and got up to continue setting things up in his room.

[D] After transporting some dangerous chemicals and re-installing the turbolift sensors, Renakir was happy to be done with work. He headed to his quarters which were, to his surprised, now shared with his brother-- well cousin. He would have to talk to Jijix about family titles he thought. The automatic doors swooshed open and as ssoon as they did, Kali-fal Madeleine hopped out of Jijix's arms to greet her father. The little epohh stood on her hind legs and wiggled her antennae. "Jolan tru!!" Renakir said with a big smile on his face as he knelt down to pick up the epohh. "To both of you. I see you met Kali-fal Madeline," And it seemed the two were getting along! Renakir worried that Jijix and his epohh would take some time to get used to each other, but it seemed they were already close. "And I am glad the room switch went through, it's nice to see you."

"Jolan tru." He said, surprised for a moment at the other's open happiness at seeing him, before smiling. It was astonishing to him how quickly Renakir was to trust him, which in turn threw Jijix off. Such open amicableness was something unfamiliar to him. "Yes, it went smoothly. She was here to welcome me at the door." He nodded to Kali-fal and held up the disruptor. "I thought she was an assassination attempt for a moment when she brought me this." He spoke like he was joking, and he was, but boy it had been a shock to see this cute little epohh trotting towards him with a disruptor, something he hadn't seen in a while.

Renakir burst out laughing when Jijix held up the disruptor. The laugh made Kali-fal jump out of his arms and waddle over to where Jijix was. "I mean.. Man the story behind that," He took a quick look around the room, realising the lights were still on. "Computer, lights, 10%," He commanded the lights to dim and that was when he could take his sunglasses off. Light silver eyes stared at Jijix's heterochromatic ones and now under the low lighting, the shine from Renakir's pointy teeth was more noticeable than ever. Kali-fal seemed at peace with the darkness, she had gotten used to it from living with Renakir for over a month now. "I wrestled a guard for it. The guy called me a gangly bitch, but I made him catch these gangly hands," He pointed to the disruptor and then pat Kali-fal on the head. "What have you been up to? Did you need help moving anything?" Renakir was indeed very open. He sounded confident and brotherly as he spoke to Jijix. Even though he was older, he spoke his cousin as if they were equals, opting to use a more casual mixed high and low Rihannsu dialect. It deviated a bit from standard, but it was how him and the rest of the Remans spoke. A beautiful blend of both cultures.

He looked down, disregarding the lowered light level; it didn’t bother him. He stood turning the disruption in his hands, thinking. It was very strange seeing someone who wasn’t his mother looking back at him with such similar eyes. It was eerie, yet comforting. Like looking into a mirror, at least partly. But the eyes was where the similarities ended. Solait seemed to physically differ from him in every way, seeming much more Reman than Romulan. And yet they were family. Cousins, even. Solait seemed to treat him as a brother. This comforted Jijix, but he still felt so out of his element. He had expected this, joining Starfleet. Of course it would be vastly different from his upbringing, with much more mutual trust expected from everyone. But it made Jijix’s skin crawl, like insects creeping along his arms. “Gangly bitch? That’s an insult to the Torre’vnau family.” He let out a small laugh and smiled again, feeling surprised at how quickly he was taking to Solait. “And if I’m being honest, I don’t have many belongings.” He gestured for Solait to follow him and showed off his collection of curved, gleaming blades, each with differently carved handles and designs. Next to the knives were a few carvings of animals found on Romulus. A plushie or two sat on his bed, and a Vulcan lyre stood in the corner. And lastly, a few plants dotted the room here and there. It wasn’t empty, but it was sparse. “I was thinking of taking a trip to the promenade to see what stores they have? Perhaps I can find better decorations than knives.” Not giving Romulans a very good name. But hey, it was good to have a knife close by. You never knew when you might have to use it.

Renakir looked a Jijix curiously, wondering what the boy could be thinking. For a split second the familiar shame of appearance crossed his mind. Jijix had seen his eyes before, but not in the dark, not like this. A Reman staring you in the eyes in dim lighting was a sight that would make anyone jump, but especially a Romulan as in many cases that was the last thing they would see. He chuckled at his cousin's comment, he was so happy to have another Romulan Torre'vnau to talk to. He had Rai, but with their ten year age difference and... Tumultuous childhood, it was difficult to make a connection with the man. They had different interests and hobbies. Renakir as an explorer and Rai was very much not. Thankfully, it seemed JIjix was of the same mind as him and also wanted to explore the stars (and connect with family!). x_divider

05:12

"It really is, isn't it? The dude is actually locked up in the brig so I'm gonna do gloat at him later," Renakir said, very professional. "Oh speaking of family-- can I call you dinam? I know we're technically cousins but... Reman family relationships are a little simpler. And umm.. You can actually call me Renakir, that's my Reman name. Honestly the only ones that call me Solait are Rai and our father Cerrub," Renakir told Jijix. If he was going to reunite with the rest of the Torre'vnaus, it only made sense he be introduced to some parts of Reman culture since they were a mixed house. Renakir stayed close to Jijix, well within stabbing distance, as he peered at the small collection of trinkets his cousin had. "Oh I love these," He pointed to the knives, eyes lighting up when he saw the shiny silver. "Not to be Romulan but I think having knives is cool. If I could I'd be collecting disruptors," Renakir said with a chuckle. If only they weren't illegal. Renakir just liked Romulan design, he didn't really care much if they were functional or not, in fact the thought of being surrounded by tons of active weapons terrified him. "But sure, we can go shopping if you want. I assume you don't have access to the Torre'vnau bank accound? I will talk to Cerrub about getting you an account, we got tons of money," He said with a smirk, leaving out the part that all the money was dirty money, but he was going to be the head of the house, #FreeRemans!

Jijix was quiet, taking in everything that Renakir was saying and processing one thing at a time. His eyes remained fixed on Renakir's, but everything else zeroed in on Renakir's actions and body language. A tight knot formed in his stomach at the other's close proximity. Jijix's muscles screamed, willing him to dart back to a safer distance. He willed himself to breathe normally, turning and picking up one of the knives. He held it in his hands, observing its features, holding it for two reasons: first, so he could focus on the knife's features and calm the defensive panic that still often rose in him, and two, to make sure he had something to defend himself with if Renakir wasn't as amicable as he appeared to be. This particular knife had a straight, slim blade, and a black handle with curling clouds carved into it, with the indentations being painted a burning orange. It was beautiful, one of his favorites. He gripped it until his knuckles turned white, before finally looking back up at Renakir and allowing a small smile to cross his face, the knot loosening slightly when Renakir asked to call him brother. Brother.* "I would be honored to be considered your brother. I guess I finally have a younger sibling to tease." *He joked, more to alleviate the tension in his mind. "Renakir." He tried out the name on his tongue. "Renakir. My brother. Dinam." Fascinating. And yet, unfamiliar. He moved on, thinking about the next things Renakir had said. "I'm sure collecting disruptors would go GREAT with Starfleet. Woof, I think you'd be the one in the brig." He grinned, setting the knife back down onto its stand. "And no, I don't know of any bank account." He was surprised. He knew his family lived very comfortably, but never thought they had THAT much money.

02:21

After a few more moments of silence, during which he appeared to be thinking, he said something quietly, hesitantly, as if afraid he would regret it. "I like you, Renakir." And that wad a big statement coming from him. He looked at Renakir's hands, unsure, unwillingly imagining feeling them wrapped around his throat, or grabbing one of the knives, hitting him... he closed his mouth abruptly, afraid that he would snap at Renakir. He was definitely more relaxed, though. But that wasn't saying much.

Renakir flinched when Jijix picked up the knife and immediately took a step back. As open and honest as he claimed to me, a few months of having friends wouldn't break a life time of paranoia learned on the Tal Shiar controlled planet. He covered the tips of his floppy ears with his fingers, rubbing the soft skin between them. Was Jijix-- no he wasn't, but the potential was there. Naturally this sent the Romulan-Reman's imagination wild, quickly reviewing every action, every word to find out where he went wrong. What could he possibly have done to make this boy distrust him. Or really-- why should Jijix trust him. Just because they were family? Cerrub and Sirrai were family and he knew how that turned out. Renakir brought his hands back down and began to fidget with his fingers, picking at the tips of his black fingernails. "Younger-- ah I'm 30," How old was Jijix? He realised he never did asked. The way Jijix gripped the knife, the handle adorned with a beautiful whispy cloud pattern, it was.. Haunting. Renakir looked at his couisn's curled fingers and then at his face, wondering if this would be the last sight he'd see. If it wasn't for Jijix's next comment, he would have had to say his prayers to Tenakruvek. "I think so too, which is why I need to control myself here. I don't wanna further stereotypes but at the same time ehh-- we're Romulan," He laughed through his clenched teeth. "Dinam," Renakir was still not sure about getting close to Jijix again so he kept his distance when speaking. "I can ask our dad about adding you to the account and... Yeah I.. Like you too, my dinam," Renakir spoke with hesitation now, much less forward and friendly as before because Jijix was the one holding the knife. The one who literally had the power to end his life right then and there. Renakir may have been mixed, but he was fully Vulcanoid, Jijix would know where to stab. Ahh, why did he have to be so paranoid about everything?

He picked up on the flinch, the step back, the sudden caution in his cousin/brother's voice. He shook his head and pushed the knife stand even farther back on its shelf. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you. I thought... nevermind." There wasn't a great way to say "I thought you were going to strangle me." Maybe... hmm. He would try. He picked up another knife with a dark brown handles that had the same style of carvings as the last, this time of leaves that were painted bright gold and green, and handed it to Renakir, hesitantly meeting the other's eyes, thus putting Renakir in control. Perhaps that would put him at ease. Sure, Jijix's heart beat faster, his brain screamed that he might as well hop into a coffin right then and there as he watched his own hands extend outward, slowly, reassuringly, but he wanted--no, needed--Renakir to trust him. And he needed to trust Renakir. If he survived the next few minutes, perhaps it would be much easier on the both of them. My life is in your hands, now, thought the Romulan. "I like collecting knives with nature-themed handles." He murmured, watching the other carefully. He was extending an offer of trust, taking a leap that could end horribly for him. But it might be worth it.

Renakir did not expect what happened next, and his eyes widened when he felt the cool handle of the knife in his fingers. The knife had a good amount of heft to it, pointed blade glistened under the dim lighting of the room. He felt powerful, a glint in his eyes when he peered at his cousin to see his expression. Giving a Reman a knife, Jijix was bold. Renakir was a friendly guy, but he had to admit holding a knife did give him a rush of adrenaline that made him wonder what he would have been like if he had chosen Rai's path. But he wasn't actually violent, Renakir turned the knife in his hand, grey fingers gripped the knife firmly before loosening and flipping it over his hand. He may not have been a killer but the art of knife dancing was a core Romulan skill. "They're very beautiful. I guess that's why they were allowed on board," Another bitter laugh came from his chest and he handed the knife back to Jijix, completing their little trust exercise. Renakir's beady little silver eyes blinked slowly, resembling the way Kali-fal Madeleine blinked. Like father like daughter? "Thank you, dinam. Your knives are very beautiful. I think our dad Tiravurik would be interested in them, he loves knives too," Remans didn't have access to many weapons (for good reason), but they could.. "Remans have a skill-- ahh, we can make knives out of anything. Tiravurik has a whole collection of knives made out of weird things. Once, he sharpened a hardboiled egg," Renakir chuckled, remembering all the weird knives him and Onusuk had made.