Star Trek: Starbase 777 - ens-carter﹢falada-schuchert

There had to be some better name for this machine than the names Allan was coming up with currently. De-pantser. Booty Shorts Maker. Starfleet Uniform Guillotine. Let's just say Allan isn't the best with writing or at least, being creative with words on paper. It did actually function sort of like a guillotine at the moment though, where you just slid your pants in, set the length setting (the default was just enough to provide decent coverage of your ass) and it cut right through very, very cleanly. However, the thing Allan needed people's help with was the hemming of the now-rather-rugged looking edges of the shorts. Thus the messages to the group chat, and well.. things happened there. He brought the machine back to his quarters, expecting to just set it onto the bed that was empty this morning and not worry about it but -- there was someone's bags there now, along with a bed made. Huh. Figuring not to worry about it too much for now, he set the machine down onto his own desk, and searched his closet quickly for a pair of pants -- he didn't really have many left. He wasn't even wearing any, he was wearing a pair of Starfleet pants he'd made into shorts wayyy earlier. He decided to text Risren,, asking to bring an extra pair because... yeesh, we were really running low here. Allan pulled out his last pair of pants, looking at it. "You won't be missed," he said to himself, looking at the pants again. "Well, maybe. But I can get more, probably," honestly, he had no idea how that worked here if you needed more clothes. The Academy was way chill with that sort of stuff but he wasn't so sure about 'the real world' or whatever. Texting back and forth on the PADD was a little ... he didn't know how to describe the feeling, but he already told his boss about upgrading them, right? He'd get to that too.. eventually. This was the most prioritized task now, though. Making Starfleet Official Booty Shorts.

A chime rang out inside the quarters, letting Allan know that Risren had arrived and was waiting to be granted entry.

Allan, although fully expecting someone to come in about right now, still jumped when he heard the chime, nearly cutting his finger on his own machine. He had to figure out a way how to customize that... "Shit - I mean, come in! Come - come in, yeah," Allan quickly turned around to face the door as well, he realized he just set up a meeting with someone named Risren Detta who had a bit of sewing knowledge and he knew was also an engineer and... that was about it. Regardless, he was still excited about this! Surely together they could create the best booty shorts machine known to the universe.

The Orion strolled into the room, looking fresh off the runway (hopefully). He wore a black skirt that went down to his knees and knee high black and red striped socks (a bit emo, sure, but why not be emo every once in a while?) and a red tank top shirt with a silhouette of a heart in black. He had with him a small satchel bag and a huge smile on his face. "Hello there! Risren Detta! You must be Allan! I've brought my pants and my sewing skills!"

"Hey! So," Allan was going to go right into the spiel about the machine until he actually took a look at this guy. That outfit was indeed looking fresh off the runway, and Allan definitely wasn't someone to not notice something like that. His more friendly, casual smile, for anyone paying close attention shifted over to his signature smirk in a matter of splits of a second. "Hey," Allan reached a hand out to the other, "that sounds absolutely perfect. Shall we get started?" Oh, this was going to be fun.

"We shall," Risren agreed, taking Allan's hand and shaking. "So, how does the machine work? Looks like right now you're just kinda...chopping fabric off to make booty shorts, right?" He asked, moving to set beside the other Engineer. "You're looking to incorporate hemming them somehow is what I think you said on the chatroom," He said, pulling out the sewing supplies he had brought in his fruity little satchel.

"Basically, yeah," Allan said, gesturing Risren over to the machine where he currently had a pair of shorts lined up onto it, having been freshly cut. "It's a little... sharp of a cut, obviously, you know, no frayed edges which is nice, but it wouldn't stay that way, realistically, so it needs to be hemmed up, so it's like -" he gestured to the shorts on his own thighs. A pretty tight fit, but that's how he liked them. "A little smoother and just more comfortable over all, and of course, stands the test of time." He looked down at the sewing supplies. That was a fruity little satchel. "So I think the goal is to get the machine to cut them, and then go right into hemming the shorts up, and then that's pretty much it, right? Let me know if I'm missing something here."

"Okay, so, programming a machine to sew them shouldn't be too hard if we do this correctly. Would you like me to demonstrate a basic hemming stitch?" He asked, threading a needle with black thread and grabbing the most recently cut pair. To program the machine, they would simply need a sewing machine and a robotic arm to shove a piece of cardboard or something up the legs to keep the pants from being sewn shut, shouldn't be hard as all. In fact, if they did this correctly, in almost no time at all, they should have enough booty shorts for everyone on the station, granted that they found enough pairs of pants to do that. He took the bag off and set it on the table, flipping it over so that it proudly displayed Risren's antique pride pins: an mlm flag and a genderqueer flag. He'd found them at a flea market in his home town one year when he was on vacation during his academy time.

"That'd be amazing," Allan said, watching the other get to work. He had a basic sewing machine on the other side of the room, and he would sure as hell knew how to program it once he knew ... what exactly it needed to do to make the shorts look and feel good. Which is where he was lost, really. "Whatever makes them look like this," he looked down at his own shorts again. Yeah, that. Allan tilted his head a bit when he saw the antique (and man, those were a n t i q u e) pride pins, taking that into account for a split second before looking back at the hemming going on. He had to stay focused!

Because the roleplayer ruined a perfectly good right triangle of red fabric last time he tried to sew and actually has no idea how, let's just say Risren provided a proper demonstration that was both helpful and informative. Yeah. He finished hemming the pants and held them up for Allan to get a good look at. "So it should end up like this," He said, nodding at his handiwork. Not a bad pair of booty shorts, if he did say so himself. "I should be able to do the programming if you want to try and make some kind of robotic arm to keep the pants from getting sewn together,"

"Oh, wow. Those look perfect," Allan said, taking the shorts and looking at them closely. They looked perfect, yes. But how did they feel? "Yeah, sure! That works," He ruffled through a box of his for some parts to make a robotic arm from and started working on that, before looking down at the newly hemmed shorts again. "Hey, would you mind if I... tried these on? Just to make sure they're exactly the same?"

"No, not at all. Be my guest. Would you like me to go to the next room?" Risren asked, standing up to give Allan privacy. The man probably didn't want a random person in the room while he changed, especially not an Orion, not with all the stereotypes. Not that Allan was spacist, but it was hard to get away from the prejudices.

Allan shrugged, super indifferent to the idea of changing with someone else in the room, especially being so fresh out of the Academy. "It's more up to you and what you want to do," Allan said, already setting his belt aside. He just wanted to get the work done, really. The quicker Starfleet can see the wonder of everyone on 777 wearing booty shorts, the better.

Risren blinked. Take him out to dinner first, at least, like, damn! He looked away, shaking his head. This man clearly had no shame. Respect, but jeez. They'd just met, warn a guy before taking your belt off and preparing to take your pants off! He waited patiently for Allan to finish changing.

Allan, in all honesty, didn't really understand the awkwardness some people had, after all, a belt was just an outer layer similar to a jacket or shoes in his opinion and changing hadn't been a deal at all for him since the mandatory gym class in the Academy. That was for class credit, and this was for - well, for science! He tried on the new shorts, taking a look in the mirror. "Oh, yeah," he looked back over at Risren, "these are going to be great." He went back over to sit down and keep working on the robotic arm, finishing it pretty quickly. He might as well make conversation while the other did the more complicated task of programming the sewing machine bits. "So, if you don't mind me asking... how'd you end up here?"

Ah, backstory time. "Here in Starfleet, or here on 777? Interesting stories for both, my friend," Risren replied, picking the sewing machine up and hooking it up to his PADD so he could begin the programming. He brushed his hair out of his eyes as he started to work, opening up the right application and beginning the code from scratch. * *It was true, there were interesting stories behind both questions, but it depended on which one Allan wanted to hear. He stretched and sat down, ready to full throw himself into this side project, something he'd never gotten to do on Starbase 21.

"Either, honestly. To start with though, uh. Starfleet, I guess," Allan leaned back in his chair, watching as Risren got to work programming. He couldn't help but sort of look over the code, not saying anything but.. well, programming was his specialty, and it always was interesting to him to see how other people came to the same conclusions he did in different ways, each their own in a way. "Everyone seems to have an interesting story there."

Risren nodded, silently agreeing. Everyone did have a story, sometimes one that wasn’t quite pleasant. “Well, my cousin convinced me to join Starfleet,” He said, omitting all his trauma™️, seeing as it was the first time they’d talked. “I got here because my first posting on Starbase 21 was boring as shit, to put it nicely,” He told Allan, fingers still working on the PADD.

"Damn," Allan said, still watching as the other coded. "How'd your cousin convince you to do that? Took like, an entire prison room to convince me to even consider Starfleet." He looked up at the ceiling. "Do you think this'll be less boring?"

“I wasn’t opposed. Wait- you were in prison? Forget my story, I wanna hear about that,” Risren said, looking up at Allan with a very clearly interested expression. “I think it just got a lot more interesting, my human friend,”

"Ohh, that makes more se-" Allan leaned back into his own chair a bit more when Risren looked back up at him, laughing nervously. "Well, uh - when I was 18, I was in a very uh.... I hate Starfleet kinda mood, for uh, reasons, and so I hacked their website pages completely and livestreamed it. It was down for a few days! Fun stuff, really."

“Wow. I wouldn’t have expected you to be that kind of person, if I’m being honest. Consider me impressed,” Risren smiled, still coding away. How long does that type of thing take? The roleplayer doesn’t know.

"Really? Well," Allan smiled to himself, "sure am that person. Definitely didn't tell the boss on the first day. Think he might have judged me a bit for that." Depending on the complexity, usually programming a sewing machine to do something it already knows how to do but with some slight changes wouldn't take all too long, this roleplayer assumes. Maybe. Go figure for roleplaying characters who code while not knowing anything about coding. (edited)

“Bold move. I think I like you, Allan,” Risren grinned, setting the PADD down, as he had finished programming the sewing machine. Now, it would hem the booty shorts flawlessly, and Starfleet Saturday Shorts were one step closer to becoming a reality. Risren couldn’t wait to get himself a pair.

Allan chuckled at the other's comment, standing up as Risren finished programming the machine. "Well, I guess you're the first on this base to say that, so - thanks," he looked down at the machine, placing Risren's sweatpants he had brought earlier down on the machine, pressing the button and watching the machine get to work. "I like you, too, for what it's worth, Risren. Not to mention you're great at what you do." Allan watched the machine go, hoping it would adjust to the different fabric of the sweatpants alright as opposed to the thinner fabric of the uniform pants.

Risren smiled at his new friend before turning to watch the Booty Shorts Machine with baited breath. Would it work? Would the sweat pants make a stylish pair of booty shorts for Risren to Be Hot™️ in? They’d have to find out.

So they both just stood there, watching the machine, until finally it outputted what looked like a good pair of shorts! And even the pockets were still there! "Ohoh," Allan laughed, pulling the shorts from the machine and holding them up to Risren. They were his shorts, after all. "Oh, I think we've done it. These look amazing," he looked at the machine, and then sent a text to the chatroom. This was going to be great. Although, he did have to figure out where to get some more pants.

Risren noticed the message, sent out one of his own, and took the pants, grinning like an idiot. What. A. Day. Yuso would be so jealous if she ever found out that not only had he made a friend, already, but they’d gotten up to shenanigans together! There were never any shenanigans on 21! He took a photo of the pants before running into the next room to try them on. They would look good with his current outfit, he thought. He slipped off the pants and pulled on the booty shorts, looking for a mirror. He settled on his reflection in a dark console panel. Perfect. He came back into the room and struck a pose.

Allan kept texting the chatroom on his PADD while Risren went to try on the shorts. He couldn't wait to see the look on whoever was in charge of Starfleet's face when everyone in Starfleet had booty shorts. Eventually. When Risren came back into the room, Allan smirked and immediately like, snapped his fingers. "Okay! Okay, we see it, this is- this is the vision, alright," Allan laughed a little, doing a little pose of his own in return. "See, now we need to make the photo promotions when everyone on base is wearing these. That's the next step. Marketing."

“Marketing, got it, sounds good,” Risren nodded. “I think, if we want this to be truly effective, we have to have a good background. Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Idea! Let’s go to the holodeck. Endless backgrounds there,” He said, grabbing his fruity little satchel and putting his PADD inside. “No one will know that we used the holodeck. I mean, for all they know, we did go all the way to wherever we use as a background to promote these,”

Allan watched the other put his stuff together, and had to take a moment to process what his new friend just said. "Wait," he said eventually, getting his own satchel as well off of his chair, "Are we... not allowed to go there? Not that I care, but like - for my own knowledge."

“In the holodecks? Used for recreation? Umm, yeah? Wow, this must be your first posting, or something,” Risren laughed, raising an eyebrow at Allan. “Anyone’s allowed to use them,”

Allan laughed, shaking his head. Ah. A misunderstanding. Okay. These happened all the time. "Oh! No, I was - I was asking because I thought you were saying nobody would know as in we weren't supposed to, and I was surprised because... yeah, I thought we were. I get you now though," Allan said, opening the door of the quarters after taking the machine and a few shorts with him. "Well? Looks like we've got a photoshoot to do."

“Let’s go,” Risren grinned, beckoning for Allan to follow him as he walked over to the door, stepping out into #middle-section-i-corridor .

[PADD] From: Attaché Kiarah Tezan (CardassianEngima) To: @Allan Allen Allan the Booty Shorts Man

Hello! I assume this is @Allan from the starbase chatroom? This is Kiarah Tezan, I'm new to the base and heard you were offering fashionable booty shorts in the chatroom and am interested in seeing what the fashions on the Starbase are. I don’t leave Cardassian/Bajoran territory very much, you see. And I believe this would be a wonderful opportunity to explore the culture here. - Attaché Kiarah Tezan

And just like that, this young Bajoran boy was lined up outside of Allan's quarters, eager for his own pair of Starfleet shorts!

[PADD] From: Kiarah Tezan To: Allan Allen the Booty Shorts Man!

I'm afraid I don’t have Starfleet pants or skirts but I do have a skirt similar enough to the standard Starfleet skirt if you would like to see it, I'll bring both just in case. - Kiarah Tezan

"Yeah! We're working on a new name eventually, but for now... also, the skirts get cold too! But especially on the lower decks, it gets pretty hot, not gonna lie." Allan walked into his quarters with the group, seeing another person (Nalas) on the way in. "Hey there! You here for shorts as well?" Allan grinned, holding the machine up in his arms before setting it down on his desk. "Who's first?"

The enthusiastic Bajoran boy perked up when he heard a voice and quickly turned around. "Yeah!!! I brought my trousers! Hey-- are you the shorts guy?" He asked, giving Allan a cute gummy smile. Honestly Nalas was more excited about meeting new friends than the shorts. He was really lonely without Eshen around. He took a second glance at the little group that had formed and noticed-- "Kiarah!!! You want shorts too??"

"Cardassian's have a lower tolerance for the cold, but if it is warmer down there I might visit every now and then." Kiarah explained before she waved at Sissil with a smile. "Hi Sissil! Yeah, I'm here to see the Starbase fashions around here!" She said, bouncing on the balls of her feet before catching herself and stopping. Her attention turned towards Allan. "It doesn’t matter to me who goes first or not, whichever one is more convenient for you. I have my two pairs of pants ready though! And the skirt you might want to take a look at? It's right here in my bag." Her hand tapped the satchel hanging off the right side of her shoulder soundly. "How long does it take for a pair of pants to be changed?" She asked curiously.

"Merley seconds, my dear!" Risren piped up, gesturing to the machine. "Thanks to a combination of gullotine tech and this random sewing machine I coded, your pants will be booty shorts in less than a minute," He said in a salesman voice, making various hand gestures and giving Kiarah a warm smile. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"I sure am! Name's Allan," he said to the Bajoran boy, gesturing for him to follow him inside. "And yours is?" Sissil, apparently, according to Kiarah's response! "Oh, this is Starbase fashion now? I'm absolutely delighted to hear that, really." He took the two pairs of pants, and the skirt, and set them aside while taking one pair of pants as he put them down onto the machine. He grinned over at Risren. "He's absolutely right! Merely seconds." He set up the pants onto the machine and prepared to press the button that made the magic happen.

"That would be great, thank you." The Cardassian nodded, her smile curling up at the ends as she looked towards the machine. She might have not known what a guillotine was but it did sound interesting. "How short are the short shorts going to be again?" Kiarah asked curiously, seemingly she had quite a few questions. Then again, Cardassians generally wore the long elegant dresses that she herself was wearing at the moment. For the females anyway. She curiously looked onto the machine, she'd never seen anything like it before. Generally the clothes she wore rarely needed adjusting, each outfit tailored exactly to her body fitted just so. But when it was a special occasion that needed it, generally it was hand-sewed by a sewing machine. Then again, what Allan and Risren were planning seemed to be on a larger scale. The Cardassian wondered how their business would turn out, especially after the encounter with that Commander in the chatroom...

"Use my shorts as a model," Risren told Nalas and Kiarah while Allan worked, striking a pose that accentuated his, well, thiccness. It was all, however, to let the others get a good look at the product, of course. Risren wasn't like the Orion stereotype.

"Kiarah!" Nalas was happy to see his (currently) favourite Cardassian again. He stepped into the room when the others entered. "Hey hey, Yeah-- uhh Sissil is fine, or Nalas," He answered Allan, excited to get some Starfleet shorts. There sure were a lot of people here all for shorts, he wondered how it would turn out. "And hey again Lisren, yeah whenever you guys are ready," He stood there patiently, watching da bois gooo.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sissil," Allan said, "did you bring a pair of pants?" He looked over to the other two, laughing as Risren showed off his shorts. "Yes! Both of us are wearing the shorts, but if they're a bit too short for you, we can adjust the length?"

Yah, here!" *He handed his trousers to Allan with a grin. "I want them short, hehe, i wanna surprise my boyfriend," Nalas said, wondering if Eshen would also want a pair when he got back. He'd have to ask, they could be Starfleet short's matching!

"Perhaps a little longer will do, half an inch? If it's no trouble that is." Kiarah said thoughtfully before solidifying her answer with a nod. "Yes, that sounds good to me." "And I don’t mind Sissil going first or alternating between the two of ours." The Cardassian offered. "We'll be trying the shorts on in the restroom, correct?"

"Of course. Privacy is key here at Allen and Detta Booty Shorts," Risren assured her, changing the programming on the machine to cut the shorts half an inch longer. "You can go first, dear, the machine is set," They nodded towards the Pants Guillotine. "Are you ready?" He asked with a confident smirk.

From: Ens. Niatha Chet To: Allan Allen First off, I like that name. Second, if you still have those shorts I'd like three pairs please! Let me know when I can pick them up?

"Ready as I'll ever be." The Cardassian nodded. If it turns out she didn't really like it, well, she'd just buy another one. There was no risk.

Allan gladly took Sissil's pants into hand, mentally noting that he wanted them short, and then watched closely as Risren adjusted the machine for Kiarah's shorts to be about half an inch longer. Something about the other's confident smirk was really great, too, just really... added to the experience a lot more, Allan thought. "Well! Here it goes!" Allan said, turning the machine on and watching it do its magic as it trimmed Kiarah's pants into shorts and hemmed them all up. It really was a sight to see. As the machine worked, he took the time to send a reply back to yet ANOTHER customer! Oh, this was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Soon enough the machine was done, and out came the beautiful shorts as a result. Allan took the shorts out carefully and held them up in view of everyone, before handing them to Kiarah to try on. "I'd say this is pretty amazing for our first real product," Allan said, grinning over at Risren. "Don't you think so?"

“I think, my dear human friend, that we’re going places,” Risren grinned, placing a hand on Allan’s shoulder. Truth be told, he had been lost in thought, not fully paying attention, aka the roleplayer’s excuse for not having the slightest idea what was going on. Oh, that’s right, the booty machine was doing its magic, and all was wonderful. He smiled, sighing contentedly. “We’re definitely going to be noticed by the higher-ups if we keep it up, Allan,”

Kiarah took the shorts after it had been finished and changed before coming back. The shorts were the perfect length for the grey/purple skinned Cardassian and matched well with her thin form. She spun around once to show it off. "Hmm, I think it looks nice. Though I'm not exactly used to these type of clothes. What do you guys think?" She asked curiously.

"Abso-fucking-lutely we are," Allan said, putting an arm around Risren and onto the other's shoulder in return as he grinned at him too. He watched as Kiarah came back, nodding and snapping his fingers on his free hand as she spun around. "Okay, first of all, yes? They look absolutely stunning on you, Kiarah."

“Oh, my gosh! Perfect!” Risren practically squealed. What, he was excited. “Those look incredible!” He exclaimed. “Not to toot our own horn, as that weird saying goes, but you made the right choice, coming to us,” He said. He glanced at Allan, the genius behind this whole idea, giving him a 1,000-Watt smile. “It seems both me and my dear friend here agree: that’s a look,”

"Really? Aw, thanks. I must admit they are pretty comfortable and really do look great. A tad bit cold though but that can be fixed well enough, my quarters are generally warmer than the rest of the station so I can just turn it up again a few degrees." She said thoughtfully. "Although I do like the way my longer skirts swish around my legs I'm sure this will be a common piece in my wardrobe."

"Really! And yeah, it's always so hot down here in the lower decks, if you get me. Plus, when it's cold you can just wear higher socks like people will do with the skirts sometimes," Allan said, smiling as she said the compliments of the shorts. Another satisfied customer! "Of course! Gotta switch it up, but it'll be a favorite." Soon, he hoped, it might be a favorite of the entire base. But... that was still a good bit away, probably.

Higher socks, like what Risren was wearing. Keeping an arm on Allan's shoulder, he smiled at Kiarah. "Be sure to let us know if you have any issues with the stitching, or if you want another pair. I'll be more than happy to help," He told her, giving her his best Salesman Guarantee. "And be sure to keep warm, do whatever makes you comfortable," He added. They didn't want any injuries because of these pants.

"Of course! I really do like them, I'm surprised how fast you were able to do it too." She said thoughtfully. "It's very efficient." Kiarah paused. "Is the skirt close enough to the usual standard Starfleet skirt?" She asked curiously, putting her satchel back over her shoulder. "If not, I'm sorry but I don't think I can get one considering I'm not Starfleet." She shrugged. "Which I suppose is pretty obvious but hey, it's a pretty nice little business you have here."

Allan nodded in agreement with Risren, arm still around the other on his opposite shoulder. "Exactly! Whatever makes you comfortable," he said, thinking a bit about the skirt information. "Honestly? Starfleet is a little overrated anyways," he stuck his tongue out and rolled his eyes jokingly, "your skirt'll be just fine, don't worry. We really appreciate it!"

Risren raised an eyebrow at Allan as he said that, but shrugged it off. "I think you'll be fine, yeah," He agreed. "The shorts aren't that similar, anyway. Yours are gray," Common knowledge: Starfleet apparel was mostly black, except for the small stripe of rank determining color and the white on the shoulders, for the uniform here, at least. Which Risren was not currently wearing.

[D] As nice as it was to chat with Remun, Alizati was also in the middle habitat ring to get some shorts made. Maybe it seemed off brand, but lounging in trousers was not as comfortable as shorts and that was why he was here. He stood outside the door and chimed the bell, shorts time for this funky Vulcan.

For some reason, Allan didn't think to take his arm away from around Risren until he heard the doorbell chime unexpectedly. "Another one?" he whispered to Risren, taking his arm away and sort of looking at whatever peephole or camera there was to show him who was at the door, assuming he had one. "Holy shit," he looked over at Risren, looking back from the door and then to Risren again. "It's Alizati."

"Who?" Risren asked, tilting his head. "Is he important?" He asked, clearly not aware that 'Alizati' was literally his boss. He moved to go stand next to Allan, peering at the peephole-camera. "A Vulcan?" He frowned. "Weird, but who am I to judge? Let him in! Booty shorts for all," He put his hands on his hips, turning to look at his business partner and friend. Something was up. What was it?

"Well thanks to the both of you, but I should probably get going now. Really, I hope your business goes well!" Kiarah smiled, completely unawares of the Vulcan android standing outside of the door as she had been collecting her things to leave. She had also missed their conversation except the 'booty shorts for all' thing, but that seemed like what they always said so...she didn't really think much of it.

"You don't understand, it's not - well, first of all, he totally chewed me out the other day and second of all, he's our boss, Risren, and I feel like we're in troub-" he was definitely panicking just slightly when Kiarah spoke up. Forgetting what the situation was for a moment, he smiled and waved goodbye to her. "Of course! Come back anytime- oh, fuck." He watched in what was definitely not horror, but some sort of feeling washed over him as the doors opened to let the woman out and he saw Alizati, and he was left with only one choice: to act normal. "H-hey, boss! What's.. what's happening?" He laughed, doing a Vulcan salute for good measure at his boss as he backed away towards his desk, hopefully obscuring the view of the machine just a bit. Be cool, be cool...

"Oh, fuck," Risren hissed under his breath as Alizati was let in. He had heard Allan's words...fear.jpg. He took a deep breath. No big deal, this was just like another day on 21. Minus the fun. And the CEO who actually cared about his job. "Um, hello, sir!" Risren added. "Ensign Risren Detta, warp core engineer," He stated, almost bowing out of respect. This man looked scary. He looked like the kind of Vulcan who would neck-pinch you into next Tuesday if you screwed something up. He leaned into Allan for emotional support.

The first thing he saw was a Cardassian woman walking out of the room and then his eyes met Allan's. That engineering ensign he spoke to-- Ah yes, this was his quarters, how could he forget? Alizati breathed in and out, slowly and steadily as he looked straight ahead. He had perfect posture, as always, but actually here he was with... a pair of trousers. To be short-ified. Dressed in his full uniform, hair nicely combed, Alizati's stare was cold and emotionless. He glanced at the two ensigns in the room and stepped forward. He gave them both a polite nod and flashed them a Vulcan salute, he was actually not as scary as he seemed. "Good day, ensigns. I am here because I heard you were modifying trousers? I require shorts for 'lounging' as some may call it. Can you do that?" Alizati looked as if he was staring into their souls, his eyes locking onto Risren now. His eyes shook a little, but he hid it well as he blinked.

Allan took in his surroundings pretty quickly. Risren was leaning into him, and ... Alizati had... pants in his arms? Oh? And he... he wanted... shorts. Holy fucking shit, his boss actually wanted shorts. This was absolutely revolutionary. So maybe his boss wasn't so bad after all... "Um - yeah! Yeah, we can absolutely do that for you, thought you'd never ask! We -" he gestured to Risren, "made the machine together, I made it so it would cut the pants the right way, and then this sexy genius over here actually did all the programming of the sewing bits to really make it all come together." What? He had to make sure his boss knew exactly what grand accomplishments him and his friend were up to. How else do you get promoted? "Is the standard length okay to you, or do you want something a bit different?" He asked, preparing to take Alizati's pants and line them up onto the machine.

Sexy genius...why did that make him Feel Things? He shook it off, focusing on the fact that his boss was right in front of him, asking for booty shorts. He moved over to the machine, watching as Allan did the prep work. "Um- also- if you have any questions about the process, please feel free to ask, sir," He was hoping maybe Alizati would be impressed by their little side project. In fact, maybe it would land them a promotion. That was probably mostly wishful thinking, but who knew? Anything could happen when you were in someone else's quarters with your boss and a machine that turned pants into booty shorts. He shuddered. Alizati really was the definition of intimidating. He glanced at Allan for emotional security, but that made him Feel Things, too, and he wasn't sure why or if he was ready for it. So he just looked back down as Allan prepped the machine.

As expected the two ensigns were highly emotional and still illogical. He handed his trousers over to Allan as he watched the two scramble around. He wondered if he could get through his whole interaction with as few words as possible. If anyone was the lowest% speedrunning king it was Alizati Dhzarok. He made no comment on the 'sexy genius' remark, it did not matter to him what the two thought of each other. "Standard is sufficient," He replied in his typical monotone, his gaze shifting to look at Allan. He sighed and stood there with his hands clasped behind his back. "This is an interesting project you have," His eyes had already scanned the machine, vibrating subtly as his mind worked to process the unique device. Fascinating, but it was clear he was not impressed by this engineering feat. Although it was difficult to impress an android who was building robots since the day he was activated. "And to meet you acquaintance, Ensign Risren Detta. I am the chief engineer, Alizati Dzharok," He introduced himself when he realised him and Risren had never met before. He read the roster, but he highly doubted this ensign did.

"Alright, then! Standard length it is," Allan said as he took the pants and put them into the machine, pressing the button to make it all start going. The machine was surprisingly quiet, as opposed to other sewing machines he'd seen, so props to Risren for that. Speaking of Risren, he glanced back over to the other, noticing how the other was looking down at the ground. "Thanks. Again, huuge props to Risren here. Wouldn't really work at all without him."

He kept complimenting him! Things were Happening in Risren's brain. What was going on? This was not normal, not in the slightest. "It wasn't really much, I assure you. Just some coding and sewing, really," He chuckled. "You're flattering me, my dear friend," He waved Allan off, still using that borderline-endearment.

Although he wasn't saying anything, he was certainly watching their interaction closely. Compliments, avoiding eye contact, a hint of nervousness in their voice? They were flirting, definitely flirting. It did not bother him at all though, it was what emotional species did. Anything outside of Vulcan courtship (or lack there of) was beyond him, but their little moment was none of his business. He continued to stare at both of them, black pupils that seemed to sparkle under the light of the room. He was Alizati.jpeg now, no movement aside from his breathing and occasional blinking.

"And that's about half of the machine right there!" Allan laughed. As if Risren could say his efforts weren't much.. they were collaborators! That meant they equally shared the genius on this project, as far as Allan was concerned. And so, he'd compliment his new friend on it as much as he saw fit. "Is that... is that not what friends are supposed to do?" He rested his chin on his hand as he looked over at Risren with a smile. Meanwhile, the machine was still working. He looked over at Alizati for a moment. He wondered if now was the right time to ask about wearing these shorts on duty.

"I suppose it is," Risren shrugged, leaning against a wall that the roleplayer assumes is a foot or so behind the machine. Yeah, that works. Risren, however was not as cool and collected. His mind was racing. Was he Feeling Things? What Things was he Feeling? Was this normal, in any way? He refused to look at Allan, in case that did something to him. He was very confused, not sure what his brain was doing, and very intimidated by Alizati. Authority was something else when it came to this specific Orion.

What was probably the most curious about this interaction is Risren and Remun were both Orion, however one was tolerable and perhaps even a 'friend', whilst the other was well blatantly flirting in front of Alizati's trousers. He took another breath and looked at Allan when he noticed the other glanced at him. Were they aware what they were doing? Seeing the two ensigns flirt reminded him vaguely of his own marriage-- well Dzharok's. Those memories were not his own, he was never married. His mother and Dzharok were married and lived to have 4 beautiful children together until.. Alizati opened his mouth and took a sudden gulp of air, he probably looked like a puffer fish but he just realised he hadn't taken a breath for exactly seven point three six seconds. Terrible. Hopefully these ensigns were too busy flirting to notice. After he took his breath his expression returned to normal, emotionless and stoic.

Unfortunate for him, Allan was not too busy flirting to notice, because in Allan's mind, he was just being himself. And this was how he treated friends of his, unless they requested otherwise. He was also still looking at Alizati as he wondered whether to ask his question or not, and so he absolutely noticed that .. odd choice of breath. It wasn't surprising to him, necessarily, considering he did in fact read the roster - or, at least, Alizati's entry on the roster - and, well, he didn't read it, he moreso had it read TO him... but regardless, he learned this information nonetheless. However, he saw no need to bring it up whatsoever, and so he figured he might as well ask his question instead. Maybe it would distract the other from his... forced breathing? Was that what it was? While he knew Alizati's deal, he wasn't exactly sure how his programming worked. "Well, sir," he said, looking straight at his boss still, "as you can see, and as you're about to experience, these shorts are quite stylish and professional. In fact, if you think about it logically, they're equivalent to the skirts in length and better than the skirts in function. Right, Risren?" he looked over to the other for a confirmation.

"Yep! Absolutely!" The king of masking, Risren was. "It's definitely going to be the next big style. It looks more professional than a skirt, has pockets, and it more comfortable, all around," They informed him. Perhaps this was normal. Maybe he and Allan were just friends, and Risren was having a crisis for no reason. He straightened up (his posture, not his sexuality), and glanced over at his friend. Yup, everything was fine. Nothing weird going on at all. As for Alizati's strange behavoir, he hadn't noticed at all. He had been too busy having a crisis. Maybe next time Alizati slipped. But as of that moment, Risren was fully convinced that Alizati was a regular, average, biological Vulcan. Nothing weird about him.

Good, it looked like no one noticed. The two ensigns continued their flirting and Alizati did not see any reason to believe otherwise. He looked at Allan when the other proposed the shorts as professional? Did he hear that right? He was not sure where Allan grew up, but shorts were not professional at all. They were comfortable, but showing so much skin in the workplace, **especially as an engineer who was constantly exposed to dangerous equipment, was not appropriate.* "I disagree," He said without missing a beat. He did the typical Vulcan eyebrow raise at Allan, clearly judging him. A lot. "These are for off duty only. If you are looking for support to integrate these into the standard dress code I am afraid you will not be getting that from me," He spoke calmly with each word clearly enunciated and all without taking a single breath. He looked between the two of them, wondering how they would react.

Allan raised an eyebrow at his boss, genuinely wondering if the other was genuinely not picking up what he was trying to say. "You're serious? Do these -" He gestured to his own shorts, and then took the skirt he had been given earlier and held the skirt up to himself, laying it over the shorts to prove they had the same exact length. "Do these really look any different to you? And if so, I'd really enjoy an explanation of how and why these are suitable for off-duty only, and the skirts aren't? Because, in all honesty, sir, I think I'm not understanding, perhaps." He placed the skirt back down, watching as the machine neared completion of Alizati's ~ off-duty ~ shorts.

"I have to agree with my partner here- These shorts are Starfleet regulation, sir," Risren nodded. "They're the exact same length, same material as the full length pants," He said, confirming what Allan had said. "If this isn't professional then I'm wearing a clown costume to the next dress-uniform event,"

The Vulcan android simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath ,pretending to be deep in thought when in reality it only took him milliseconds to come up with a reply. He opened his eyes again and looked straight at Risren and then at Allan. "Your enthusiasm is noted," He said, speaking slowly and calmly. "I will not stop you from pursuing your goal, however I do hope you will apply the same enthusiasm to your work,” He said, giving them both the Vulcan stare of mega judgement.

Allan grinned, trying not to show how actually thrilled he was to receive that response considering the response he had gotten in the chatroom earlier, and trying reallly hard not to laugh too much at Risren's statement about wearing a clown costume to the next dress-uniform event. "Oh, but of course," he said, taking Alizati's now-finished shorts off the machine and handing them to the man. * "As long as I can wear these, you're absolutely guaranteed to have me be applying the same enthusiasm to my work as I did on this," *he tapped the machine, which had already shut off after it had finished. Speaking of which, what was his next work-related task? He didn't actually know the answer to that, but he figured it'd come up if he needed to know. (edited)

Risren simply listened to Allan's piece with a proud expression. He didn't have much to add in that area, except for "I'm always serious about my work," in the most sincere and genuine tone he could muster. He met Alizati's gaze, practically having a staring contest with the man. Maybe if he was intense enough, Alizati would believe him. Hopefully. He really was serious! He just didn't always look it.

Alizati broke eye contact with Risren when Allan handed him his completed shorts. He got what he came for and there was no logical reason for him to stay and chit-chat. "Thank you," He gave the two of them an approving nod. "Remember to be on time to your duty shifts, ensigns," He held his new pair of shorts in his hands, but his harsh expression had become gentler. In a strange way, he was trying to show he was looking out for the wellbeing of the two eccentric boys. In a strange way, they reminded him of his own children-- Dzharok's children. He wanted to see them succeed in things other than just getting the crew to show more skin.

"Of course! Let us know if you need any more, or any adjustments at any point," Allan smiled, fully understanding that his boss wouldn't smile back- but it just felt right! "We'll definitely be on time, no worries about that. I'll make sure of it." He grinned over at Risren with a bit of a mischievous look on his face. Whatever that meant was anyone's guess.

Risren grinned back at Allan, but, fuck, he was Feeling Things again. He needed to stop that. He just turned back to Alizati, hoping that was pretty normal to do, seeing as it would be his turn to speak next. He shook off any Feelings he was having, placing his head in the palm of his hand.

"I will certainly let you know," Alizati did not react when he noticed the two exchanging glances again. Young love, how sweet. Not like he would ever know, not first hand at least. "Thank you again, ensigns," He said before turning on his heels and walking out of the room, shorts in hand. This surely was an interesting interaction to say the least, but he was able to get through without a problem. The two ensigns didn't seem to notice his strange breathing patterns, all in all a job well done. Now he was going to head back to his quarters to lounge in his new Starfleet Shorts™️.

As soon as the doors closed, Allan looked at Risren and let out a laugh. "Did that - did that actually just happen?" He asked, mostly to himself, before he walked back over to Risren. "Damn, that actually went really, really well. I guess first impressions aren't quite everything, you know. And you - you did great. C'mon," he held up his hand, expecting a high-five in response, before actually taking in the fact that Risren had his head in his hand. "Wait, are you good?"

"Huh?" Risren turned and looked at his compainion. "Never better," He said, giving Allan a dismissive wave. "First impressions are pretty important, though, my dear human friend. And I think I did horribly," He sighed. Maybe Allan would think he was just worried about Alizati's opinion of him. That would certainly be handy. He gave Allan a reassuring smile, just to let him know that everything was fine. "The fact that he came to get a pair of booty shorts, though...definitely not what I would've expected from him,"

Allan did, in fact, think that Risren was worried about Alizati's opinion of him. "Dude, what? No, you didn't do horribly, I don't ... I don't know what would make you think that, but," he moved around to lean against the wall beside Risren. "I mean, when I met Alizati like, a day ago, he totally chewed me out for not reading my briefing when I first got here, so... I feel like if anyone made a bad first impression, it was me, but then- then look! He came back for booty shorts," he laughed, looking at the other with a genuine smile and placing a hand on his shoulder again. "Trust me, Risren. You're amazing."

He wasn't quite sure what to do with all this praise. He sort of just...blinked and stared. Was this really was Allan thought of him? What had he done to be held so highly in someone else's thoughts? Did he deserve this at all? "Do you really think so?" Risren asked, turning to luck at Allan, very grateful for the other's presence. Something told him this relatioship, whatever this was, was going to be very important for many years to come. He allowed himself to laugh, shaking his head affectionately. "Thank you, Allan. I really don't deserve all of this, but thank you," He was somewhat affected by events from his past as he spoke. He'd buried it, but every once in a while he could still hear his parents calling him a failure, a disgrace to the name 'Detta', a worthless waste of oxygen who would never get anywhere in life. Things had gotten better, but those opinions still haunted him.

Allan stared right back at Risren as if that question was the most easy question he'd ever been asked, slowly nodding. "Yes," he said very clearly, and he simply listened as Risren spoke that next statememt, his slight smile turning into a look of confusion. "What?" He asked, turning to be on his side against the wall, hand still on Risren's shoulder as he looked into his eyes, as ... as one does when they're talking to someone. "Listen, unless - unless you're, like, hiding some super dark secret like you're a serial killer or something, you absolutely deserve a few compliments slung your way. And more. From what I've seen, you deserve whatever you want, Risren." Yes, he had only known this man for a day. But... yes, Allan was going to make sure this man felt appreciated. It was sort of a personal mission for Allan, to help everyone he cared about feel loved.

"Not secretly a serial killer," Risren assured him almost immediately. "Nothing like that, I promise," He laughed breathlessly. "I just...I've had a bit of a troubled past," That was all he was willing to reveal, at the moment. He didn't want to scare Allan off. He felt his face grow the slightest bit warm as Allan looked into his eyes, and he felt as though maybe Feeling Things was not the worst thing. "Thank you, for real, though. It means a lot that you care, man," He mirrored Allan, putting his own hand on Allan's shoulder, smiling softly. A core memory! Or something similar. This was something Risren was going to remember miles down the line: This moment in Allan's quarters after they gave booty shorts to their boss. That was something for Old Man Risren to remember. Probably laugh over.

"Good, good," Allan laughed as well, "I gotcha... I feel like there's nobody in Starfleet without somewhat of a troubled past, to be honest," and that included himself, to a degree, more or less. He watched as Risren also put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes and... hm. He could probably... hm. A lot of thoughts ran through Allan's brain at this moment in time. "It's no problem, really," Allan said, tilting his head a bit to the side as he looked at the other. "It's hard not to."

Hard not too...who was this man? Risren just kept smiling, sighing contentedly. Take that, parents! His new best friend found it hard not to compliment him! "It feels unbalanced. I think you deserve to hear that you are most definitely a sexy genius with incredible ideas," He told his companion. "You are going places, for sure. I only hope that you'll remember me when you get there," He laughed. "Seriously, though, man, you're incredible. The way you stood up to Alizati when he told me the shorts weren't professional was really impressive,"

"Well, that's exactly the thing," Allan smirked, gesturing between the both of them with the hand that wasn't on the other right now, "we both are incredibly sexy and smart and have incredible ideas, my friend." He laughed too, because - well, sometimes laughing was a bit contagious. "Aw, that was nothing. I mean, you saw it! The skirt and the shorts are pretty much the same thing in terms of professionality and all that. Plus, I think your declaration of going to a dress-uniform event in a clown costume really drove it home how passionate we are about the whole thing."

"Booty shorts are no joke, my dear friend," Risren assured him, patting his shoulder and maintaining eye contact...aka, talking to him. Right? Normal people things. "I suppose I can't argue with your logic, there. And neither could that werido of a Vulcan Alizati. In fact, I think he'd be proud," He joked, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes for a brief second, truly content in the moment. He hoped that this meant as much to Allan as it meant to him. He hoped he wasn't the only one in this relationship who would, at this point, willingly die for the other. That was the kind of violent, reckless loyalty you got when it came to Risren: he was a ride or die friend. It was a bit unsettling, for some, but he really hoped that type of thing didn't creep Allan out.

"Absolutely right on that one," Allan said, also leaning his head against the wall. He looked Risren over once again, and then looked back up at him as he spoke again. "How... how long ago did you get into the academy, again, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Hmm? Oh, I guess that would've been four years ago...this is only my second post, wasn't at my first one very long. Why?" He asked, tilting his head. "When did you get into the academy?" He asked in a jokingly accusatory tone.

"About eight years ago," Allan said, "Took five years in the Academy alone, but... you.. left your old post because it was boring, right...?" He asked, tilting his head in a similar joking manner.

"Yep, six months and I was out of there," He nodded in confirmation. "That place was so boring, I'm telling you," He sighed. "I'll spare you the details, but just know that it was not nearly as fun as being here, with you, basking in the high of making booty shorts," He smiled. "I don't think anything will be as fun,"

"The - the high-" Allan just had to laugh a little at the way Risren had worded that phrase, but he nodded in agreement all the same, perhaps subconsciously drawing the other a bit closer to him as he did so, hand still on his shoulder. "What if I told you," he smirked, that same mischievous look on his face from earlier when he had mentioned he'd make sure him and Risren got to work shifts on time, "there were ways we could make things even more fun?"

Risren noticed the way the other leaned in, and Felt Something again. He laughed with Allan, for no reason other than the fact that laughter truly was contagious. He thought he had worded it quite well, however. It felt like a high. "Oh? Do tell," Risren said, raising an eyebrow. The smirk on his face...there was something behind that smirk. He couldn't wait to find out what. It was a mystery, something that clues kept showing up for, and Risren was like a detective, on the case. Why did Allan smirk so much? SpaceBuzzFeed Unsolved.

Allan felt things, sure, but he Felt Things literally all the time, so it wasn't as noticeable to him. "Well," Allan thought about it for a moment, wondering if he should really be suggesting something like this to a man he'd only known for a day. "I could tell you, sure. Or I could show you." He leaned just a bit closer. Subtly, almost. That same smirk still on his face. Almost like it was characteristic of him or something. Regardless, staring seductively into eachother's eyes for that photoshoot earlier probably didn't help the way Allan was feeling right now.

Well, fuck, now the Feeling Things was very intense. Very, very intense. He just stayed still, not leaning in any, terrified of ruining...whatever this was. "O-oh?" He stuttered. Stuttered. How out of character of him. He felt himself smiling, not smirking, just smiling, probably like a dork. Smiling like a dork and staring into Allan's eyes, both of them wearing booty shorts. What kind of interaction even was this? *Clearly one worth remembering, because all of Risren's senses were focused in on Allan. Allan was his whole world, his whole universe...the only thing that existed in the moment. He held his breath, eyes fluttering shut for a second from the intensity of their eye contact, mostly. *

The kind of interaction that was queer as fuck, that's what. Allan looked up at the other, being about 4 inches or so shorter, and watched closely as the other's eyes fluttered shut. Huh. "I mean," he shrugged, "I did mean it when I said you deserve whatever you want, Risren. And so I guess my question is," Allan took his other hand and put it to where both of his hands were now on Risren's shoulders, pulling him down just very, very slightly to adjust for height and whatnot. "What do you want?"

Risren felt something inside him, probably his heart, jump or skip a beat. What does he want? The answer to that question was something the Orion had to think on. “I- I’m not sure,” He replied honestly. The answer was on the tip of his tongue…he just couldn’t find it. Plus, Allan now had two hands on his shoulders, rather than just one. This was a very confusing situation, emotion wise. “What do you want?” He countered.

In all honesty, that was a great question. Unfortunately, answering that question would take too many brain cells that this man did not possess at the moment, so Allan put the question right back onto Risren instead. "In all honesty," he chuckled a bit, understanding how silly this sounded, "I just want whatever you want, so..." It didn't help that he could tell the other was nervous, which only further prompted him to reflect that question back.

“Well. I’m not quite sure where to go from here, then, my dear friend,” Risren said, shrugging. What did he want? It was something obvious, but he was missing it. “It seems we both have the same idea,” He noted, chucking softly. Neither of them knew, but there was a strange understanding between them, he felt. Something was happening between them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was certainly something.

Allan smiled, finding it rather endearing how the other seemed to know, but didn't. The same idea... about what? If Risren had the same idea he had, then surely he would have... hm. He figured it wouldn't hurt just to ask at this point. "The same idea of...?" he tilted his head.

“Same idea of wanting what the other wants,” He clarified, shrugging. “We’ve got a bit of a paradox here; an endless loop of sorts.* “If both of us want what the other wants, then we can’t do much, now, can we?”

"Ah." Allan nodded, figuring he'd just start to get a bit more specific with his questions. That's what the problem was. Right? "Well,," Allan said plainly, looking up at Risren again, raising his eyebrow slightly. Fuck it, he'd just ask as plainly as he could. "Risren, do you want to kiss me right now?"

Oh. Ohhh. So that’s what that was. Apparently Allan knew Risren’s brain better than he himself did, because that was what he wanted, apparently. “Yes,” He answered decisively. “Yes, I would,” He nodded, still meeting Allan’s gaze. He asked, Risren answered. Straight forward and to the point.

Then do it, Allan thought, but that was fine. Now that he knew what Risren wanted, it was all easy goings from here. "Then I guess we know what we want now, yeah?" He said softly, leaning up a bit to be able to kiss Risren, moving his hands from Risren's shoulders to around his neck to pull him closer. And actually kissed him. Finally. (edited)

“I guess we do,” He whispered, leaning down to reach Allan, hands going to wrap loosely around Allan’s waist. It was a tender, hesitant kiss, as if he wasn’t sure of himself. When they broke apart, Risren had the tiniest smile on his face, but it quickly grew. That really went and happened, didn’t it? Two fruit salads kissing in front of the Booty Shorts Machine.

They really were two fruit salads kissing in front of the Booty Shorts Machine, huh. They both still had on the booty shorts made by said machine as well, which for some reason really added to all this. Allan smiled right back at Risren, looking into his eyes again for the slightest of moments. It really did happen, didn't it? And it could happen again, Allan thought as he leaned up to kiss Risren yet again, also putting an arm around Risren's waist.

This was definitely something he would like to make a regular thing. Now, he wasn’t greedy, but kissing Allan was something that he could definitely see himself doing on a daily basis. As he returned the second kiss, he moved his hands to cup Allan’s head. They broke apart again, and he was grinning like an idiot. “Wow,” He breathed, his eyes wide and practically glowing. What did he have to do for this to happen every day?

Allan laughed breathlessly when Risren made that little remark after they broke away. Man, something about this guy was just plain cute, and he couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Not that it even mattered in the long run, anyways. He looked down for a moment before looking back up at Risren with a sweet smile, and gave Risren a quick kiss on the nose just because. It turned out there was absolutely nothing Risren would have to do for this to happen every day.

Risren gasped, then giggled, actually giggled, when Allan kissed his nose. “I’m glad that what we both want aligned so perfectly,” Risren said in a soft voice, afraid to break the spell that seemed to have been cast over the room. “That was quite possibly my new favorite memory,” He added, slowly moving to hug Allan, because it Just Felt Right.

"Yeah," Allan said, blinking a bit in surprise as Risren hugged him. And said... that. For some reason, he just didn't expect that. All the same, he hugged back, not knowing much of what to say in response to that. Maybe it was the whore in him, maybe it was the slight feeling he had way down somewhere in his heart as an emotion towards this man, but he didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe it was both.

Now feeling rather content in life, Risren looked down at his…friend? Were they still friends? He wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure what was supposed to come next. He’d kissed a hot guy, and now they were hugging, and Allan seemed a bit…surprised? He truly just wanted to make Allan happy, that had become his only goal in the moment. “You’re…incredible, Allan,” He told him, meaning it with every fines of his being.

Allan actually wasn't sure the last time someone had even hugged him like this. All of a sudden, there were about a thousand thoughts in Allan's mind again. Was he doing too much? Was he thinking too hard about this? Was he not thinking enough about this? Or should he just... stop... thinking about it at all? After all, a few brain cells bouncing around at once can only do so much thinking. He looked up at Risren with a smile, shaking his head just a bit. "Right, and so are you, you know. We could go back and forth like this all day."

“Hey, you alright?” Risren asked, noticing the worried expression that was assumably on Allan’s face. “You look somewhat…distracted?” That was the word, right? Whatever. Risren wasn’t thinking much at all, more letting his heart lead him. It felt right, when it came to this type of thing. “And maybe we should go back and forth. Unless you can think of something else to do?”

"Distracted?" Allan asked. If anything, now he was confused. Did he look distracted? Was staring up at Risren the entire time not something he was supposed to do? Was that now a sign of ... distraction? Allan didn't know, but he figured he would at least play it off as if he did. "If.. if distracted means getting lost in your eyes, sure. Call me distracted," he said with a little smirk on his lips again. Back to normal, really. "I could think of a lot more things to do, probably, but," Allan sighed wistfully, a bit dramatically for joking purposes, "they're all a bit, um, homosexual? Dunno if you'd be into that," he said, huge grin on his face. He knew exactly what he was saying.

“A bit homosexual? Let’s turn that up to completely and totally homosexual,” Risren smirked back, ignoring the comment about his eyes. It was unnecessary, really, to flatter him this much. “I’m definitely into that,” He confirmed. He wasn’t sure what he was, but it sure as hell wasn’t straight, and that was good enough.

[PADD]

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Lt. JG Renakir Solait Torre'vnau Hello can I order some shorts?

[PADD] To: Lt. JG Renakir Solait Torre'vnau From: Ensign Allan Allen

Absolutely! That's what I'm here for. You can come on down whenever ❤️

[D] And just like magic, Valleka appeared outside Allan's quarters with a Romulan Republic guard behind her. She had her PADD in her hand and her guard was holding two pairs of trousers. It was as if she had teleported magically. The senator stood tall at around six foot two, her hair tied back in two French braids. She donned the Romulan Republic dress uniform, short skirt but without the tights. She looked more like a model than a senator. With small diamonds accenting her forehead ridges and silver hoop earrings, she was definitely here to turn heads. Her guard was a stoic and emotionless Romulan man, taller than Valleka, but dressed in a plain uniform. He had a gaze that could cut through steel. He stepped to the side to chime the bell and stood behind the senator.

Allan looked out to see who was there. Huh. A woman and... a guard? Did they both want shorts? He'd just have to ask, huh. He closed the door to his bedroom, ~~in the case that Risren could be sleeping there still~~, and set the machine up properly on his desk in the main room. He then opened the door for them both, gesturing them both into the room. * "Hey there! So, do you both want shorts made, or..?" *Allan asked with a smile, seeing that there were, after all, two pairs of trousers in the guard's hands.

Valleka stepped into the room and her guard followed behind her. Despite the name on the PADD being a certain 'Renakir Solait Torre'vnau' the person standing there was definitely not a Romulan-Reman transport operator. She gave the nice ensign a polite smile and turned to her guard who handed Allan the trousers. "For me and my fiance, that's the name on the PADD. I'm not Solait, as you can see," Valleka flipped one of her braids over her shoulder. "You have quite the set up here," She said as her eyes scanned the room. Her guard kept a stoic expression, it was as if he was just a statue standing there.

"Oh! Okay, of course," Allan nodded, placing one of the sets of pants down on the machine, mentally scratching off the names of Valleka and Renakir on some mysterious list in his brain he had floating around at all times for totally unknown purposes. "Do you want any special adjustments done, like length being a bit longer, shorter, or just the standard?" He asked, before turning to her again. "Thanks! And, of course, if you change your mind," he looked straight at the guard with a smug little smile, "you're always welcome to come by for your own."

The guard just stared at Allan, barely moving and definitely not amused by his shorts business. Valleka simply giggled and shook her head at her guard before turning her attention back to Allan. "Hmm make Solait's shorter, the more skin showing the better. As for mine, standard will be good," She instructed him. "And don't mind my guard, I'm an undercover Tal Shiar agent and the guard is here to make sure you don't mess up my shorts, or else," She said in a completely serious tone, her eyes narrowing as a mischievous grin crossed her face.

Allan nodded, adjusting the machine to be able to do such and starting it before sitting down in the chair and looking at the ... agent. Oh, shit. Okay! That was fine. He'd met.. agents before... not like, her specifically, or a Tal Shiar agent specifically, but... it couldn't be that different, right? "Ah. Got it. And you're just allowed to uh, tell me that?" He smiled back to meet her mischievous grin.

Oh so he was going to play alone? Valleka simply laughed and shook her head. "Nope, it's a secret okay? You can't tell anyone," She took a step closer to Allan and looked at the machine. Her tone remained serious as she was really going to go all the way with this joke. "My fiance is a Tal Shiar sleeper agent, if you meet him, beware, okay?" Why not implicate Renakir too, some good ol' Romulan paranoia never hurt anyone. Yet.

"I'm... pretty sure you wouldn't just say something like that to a guy you just met for booty shorts," he looked up at her as she stepped closer, definitely feeling a bit intimidated by her but ... if he didn't know she had a fiance, this could have gone a bit differently. "Sure. And you're just telling me that too? Why not tell me all his secrets too?" He gestured to the guard with a stupid little grin on his face. Typical Allan behavior.

"Oh yes, I would gladly tell you all his secrets," Valleka laughed, quite loudly actually. She put her hands on her hips in perfect sassy senator pose and tilted her head slightly. She was not going to comment on if she was actually a Tal Shiar agent, seemed like the ensign was having fun just playing along. "Well to start off Solait is half Reman and half Romulan, definitely sus. Can't trust those dirty dirty *Remans," *She shook her head, pretending to look upset. "He doesn't eat in front of people because he's shy about his teeth. Oh, but the kicker? When he was a little boy he would always ask his dad to brush his teeth because he was scared he would cut his hands," Valleka leaned down so she could be eye level with the nice human boy.

"Well I was asking for his secrets, the one who's not talking at all, but," Allan gestured to the guard again, watching as the woman leaned down towards him. Hm. "I don't appreciate the spacism? Don't see why that's necessary, especially for someone who's trying to be secret or whatever," he rolled his eyes just a bit.

Hearing voices in the other room, Risren awoke slowly, yawning and stretching. Oh, right. He was in Allan's quarters. He turned the lights on manually and looked in the mirror. He didn't look like an absolute mess, that was good. He prepared himself to be seen by strangers and walked out. Oh, a Romulan? Interesting. Risren went to stand beside Allan, waving at the woman.

"Oh no, he has no secrets," Valleka gestured to her guard and laughed again. "He's boring, Solait is fun," She said shaking her head once again. This ensign was a funny guy, she briefly debated inviting him to New Romulus, oh would he make a splash in the senate. She could just imagine him pitching the shorts to a room full of old Romulan senators. "Spacism? No spacism here, sir," Valleka said, honestly not sure what Allan was talking about. She didn't think anything she had said was spacist at all. She caught the glimpse of an Orion boy coming out from one of the rooms and waved back at him. Another Orion? Well, this one didn't seem Vulcan raised and boring. "Helloooo~~ I'm just here for shorts."

Allan frowned. "Everyone has something interesting about them, secrets or not. Like me. I have no secrets, but I'm definitely very interesting." For the record, pitching the shorts to a room full of old Romulan senators is something Allan would be absolutely thrilled to do. "I think that saying something like 'can't trust those dirty Remans' is like, textbook spacism, but whatever," he said, looking over at the door as it opened and Risren walked out. "Hey there, beautiful," he said, resting his cheek in his palm and his elbow on the top of the chair he was sitting in as he looked at Risren, smiling. "Good morning? I think? This woman-" he gestured to her, "and her guard she insists is a boring person are here, and she's here for shorts for her and her fiance. Allegedly. Allegedly, she's also... well, there's classified information being said in the realm of the booty shorts business, now, apparently."

"Oh? Sounds interesting," Risren said, yawning. "And yes, hello there, sexy genius," He smiled. "What exactly is this classified booty shorts business information? As your business partner I'm entitled to know, aren't I?" He asked, sitting in a chair beside Allan, assuming there was one. This Romulan was very...interesting. Something about that 'hello' with way to many o's and the audible tildes threw him off. Whatever. "And yes, hello, Miss, you've come to the right place, I assure you," He said with a winning smile, leaning back in the chair.

"You are very interesting, ensign," Valleka said before turning back to her guard and gesturing for him to stand outside. The guard did as he was ordered and exited the room so Valleka could stay and chat with the two boys in peace. "Hmm oh maybe that is spacism, but there are no Remans here so I can say whatever I want," Her arrogant tone and 'fuck the rules' attitude was strong as she spoke. Her pointy ears caught the boys' tone as they spoke together. Were they involved? Oh my, maybe she was interrupting something, but she didn't care if she was. "Jolan tru," She greeted the Orion boy again, but this time in a more traditional Romulan fashion. "Top secret, yep. I'm an undercover Tal Shiar agent, here to get booty shorts. If this goes well, I'll hatch a plot to get every Romulan on New Romulus in these shorts," Her eyes looked back to Allan, completely serious expression.

Allan switched the pants over as one pair was finished being made, but he smiled as Risren responded and sat down next to him. Risren's presence and his words definitely made him feel more at peace with the situation. "So... you're just going to tell me right here that you're being spacist and ... that ... that's not how it works, I can assure you of that," Allan rolled his eyes again as she said she was an undercover agent again, and then... back to the booty shorts business. Hm. He decided to ignore that part of the statement for now. "What's your name, again...?" He watched carefully as the machine finished the second pair of shorts.

"I'm sorry, is she being spacist?" Risren butted in, suddenly caring a lot about this conversation. He himself had been the target of a fair amount of spacism, he was not going to let this slide. "Ma'am, I'm afraid this business is strictly for people who don't stereotype based on species," He said, his tone serious and heavy. You could see in his eyes how this mattered to him. He didn't know the victim, but he didn't need to. He was not letting this by, not on his watch.

She watched as Allan switched the trousers in the machine, looking at the new shorts that had popped out. She was already imagining the look on Renakir's face when she gave them to him. The way these two reacted to spacism was wild, was it really that big of a deal? She was quickly reminded of Renakir's warning to her, maybe it was best if she laid off the Reman comments. Something told her these two boys were not about to keep their conversation a secret from him. "You can just call me Valleka," She said with a soft smile, going back to kind senator mode. "Alright alright, I'm sorry. You know, I love the Remans, my fiance is Reman and I work with a lot of Reman senators. Oh-- I am not really a Tal Shiar agent, I'm a senator, and I am very pro Reman," Valleka said as she held up her arm to show the two boys her bracelet made of very shiny crystals. "Made from real shards of Erozyte crystals on Remus, a gift from my fiance's family."

Allan stacked the shorts into a pile and listened as Risren spoke, and then Valleka, was her name apparently, if she was even telling the truth, pulled out that classic defense. "... uh-huh," he squinted just a bit at the woman, "and I'm supposed to just.. believe that? Because you said it?"

Risren glared at Valleka. "Have you ever been called a slut while you were minding your business eating lunch just because your skin is green? No, you haven't. So don't joke about shit like that," He practically growled, eye burning into Valleka. He would 100% throw hands with her in an empty parking lot if he was left unattended.

She widened her eyes in genuine shock that these two boys were getting offended for a guy they never met. Not only that, but it seems like the Orion boy was taking it way too personally. Maybe she was wrong about these guys-- can't even make a joke. On New Romulus she could say whatever she wanted and no one got offended. Tsk tsk. "I am telling the truth," She put her hands on her hips and sighed. "I'm sorry if I offended you two. This was a cultural misunderstanding. Calling Remans dirty is not an insult on New Romulus, but I guess it can be taken as spacism. I swear, I am not spacist," She said, trying to explain herself.

Allan had to side with his business partner here. He wasn't buying this at all, really. And he was past arguing about it. He took the shorts into his arms and then stood up, patting Risren on the shoulder as he grabbed his satchel, putting the shorts inside of it. "Where's Renakir's quarters?" He asked, no grin on his face but just a very unamused look, which was honestly rather uncharacteristic for the man.

Risren wasn't sure why he wanted to know where Renakir lived, but he would follow him wherever, he supposed. He moved to go find his satchel as well, extremely pissed by the way Valleka seemed to think he was overreacting. He was steaming mad at this point. He found his bag and put it over his shoulder, clutching the strap and returning to his friend(?)'s side. Ready to go...wherever.

"Wait, you're really not going to give me my shorts? Over a joke?" Valleka stepped to the side and stared at the two boys. Was this for real? "Solait lives just a few doors down, I can take you to him. This is all a cultural misunderstanding, I am sure once you talk to Solait he will explain," Valleka scurried out of the room and spoke to her guard who was waiting outside. He nodded and walked to stand outside of Renakir's quarters which was only a few doors down, convenient.

Allan nodded, opening the door to his quarters. "That's exactly what we'll do, then," he said, looking at Risren with a very clear 'you don't have to if you don't want to' sort of look, but then offering him his hand anyways as he walked behind the woman. And now he simply waited as they rung Renakir's doorbell.

Eshen had changed earlier, seeing as he hadn't been given any shifts any time soon after that whole catastrophe, into a black silk shirt that had a minimalistic but sprawling purple peacock-feather pattern going from the right shoulder to the left hip, as well as down the back. His high-waisted dark jeans were ripped a little at the knees and held up by a rose gold belt, almost matching his his eyes and eyeshadow, gold and glittering. His thigh-high ebony boots were shiny, his charcoal eyeliner was thick, and his amethyst earrings looked like dangling grapes. He'd... Somehow found time either before or after The Stranding to dye the ends of his silky fishtail-braided hair purple, too, as though somehow he knew he'd need it to complete this purple-and-gold royal Dionysian look, this day, this place. Holding a few pairs of generic uniform pants, he knocked on the door to Allan's room and leaned casually on the wall.

Allan had been cleaning up around his quarters, probably, after having Risren over and doing all 7 of those previous booty shorts orders (plus there were more shorts made than people who had gotten some made, he had to remind himself, so probably more than 7 pairs of pants legs were just strewn about the premises), there was a good bit to clean up, but somehow he'd managed to clean it all up before he heard a knock at his door. "Okay," he said to himself quietly as he threw on a tank top to go over what he was already wearing - just the Starfleet Shorts - and looked to see who was there before opening the door. He'd be absolutely not opening it if it was... that ... senator...? Again. Luckily for him, though, it wasn't her and was instead this total hottie, so. Allan opened the door to his quarters as any smart person would do. "Hey there! Name's Allan, I assume you're here for shorts...?" He smirked at the other person, really hoping that they were. That would make them the 8th person! This group was really growing fast.

Eshen looked the stranger up and down in a split second, a small gesture of appraisal that would be missed by anyone who wasn't looking for it, before smiling warmly and clasping his opera-gloved hands together. "I am! My boyfriend Nalas recommended me here, but I must say I've otherwise heard of your little operation through the grapevine, and I love your energy - you and your business partner both."

"Oh! Nalas, yes, Nalas is really sweet," he said, immediately recalling when the other had come in for shorts just a day or so ago with Kiarah. He recalled the other referring to him as Sissil, but Nalas must have been a nickname - or the other way around. Regardless, Allan grinned at the mention of Risren, nodding in agreement. "Thanks! Yeah, Risren is - truly amazing at everything he does," he walked the new person over to the machine on his desk, "and this is the machine that does the magic! Would you like standard length," Allan gestured to his own shorts as an example, "or something a little different?"

Eshen raised an eyebrow - not a judgmental Vulcan one, but one of interest, sensing there might be something been beneath Allan's praise; piercing the queer veneer, if you will. "Is he indeed? I should like to meet the man, then." Eshen placed the uniforms near the desk. "Multiple trousers, multiple lengths?" Eshen said, his word for pants exposing his bougie Bri'ish nature.

Allan nodded as he lined up one of the pants with the machine. "Oh, yeah. Good at literally everything he's ever done, including myself, the programming on this," he tapped the machine lightly as it sprung to life, starting to cut the pants as it did so well. "What length were you thinking about for the second?"

'Including myself' - this man was brazen! Eshen, caught a little off guard, muffled his laughter behind a gloved hand, a demure affectation from his youth he still subconsciously employed in order to not seem too expressive. Usually it was him saying that kind of thing, not the other way around. "Short enough to... scandalise all of Vulcan!" He'd almost said 'short enough to disappoint my father'. "Same as yours, perhaps? Nice machine, by the way. I don't know a lick of Engineering, but tell me if you ever need help with sewing or something. I have to adjust a lot of my non-replicated clothes to accommodate my proportions." Eshen's yoked, yo.

As the first pair of shorts came hot off the presses, he set them aside and lined up the second pair. "Sounds like a plan," he chuckled, adjusting the machine to cut the shorts shorter and letting it go again. He listened closely as the other offered him sewing advice, nodding along before looking Eshen - well, he actually still didn't know the other's name, woops - up and down in a very intentional and not subtle manner. "Yeah, I can see how that would... come in handy," he said, "and I'm sorry, I- what was your name again?" 'Again' ... he had never gotten it, but that's Allan's intelligence for you.

"It's -" He hesitated. This was a new person, so this a good opportunity to try out something he'd been meaning to. "It's Eshen, but I've been trying out Dion recently, so please call me that for now." He didn't comment on Allan's Look, but he did pull the satisfied expression of a spoiled cat. Listen, he was not hard to please. He worked hard to look good, both in the gym and wardrobe, and he liked when people appreciated his efforts. "And you're Allan Allen, right? What a delightfully rhythmic name. I should like to compose a tune to it." (edited)

"That..." he thought about that prospect for a second, leaning against the chair beside the machine as he looked at Dion. "That honestly wouldn't be the first time someone did that, but I'd absolutely love to hear what you could come up with, Dion." And soon enough, the machine finished the second pair of shorts. Allan took them off the machine, and then stacked them both atop eachother, handing them to Dion with a smile. "You're totally free to try these on here, or just let me or Risren know if you need any adjustments, yeah?" He already knew Dion would look great in the shorts, but... he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to see, like, how good Dion would look in these shorts right now.

Dion took the shorts, but didn't make a move to try then on yet. He had more important things to think about than changing in front of a hot guy: poetry. Yes, really. "Well, let me see... I don't have any of my instruments with me, so we'll have to save any Dion ditties for later, so how about... There once was a man called Allan Allen, Who had a plan of a nature quite gallant And with his friend Risren, a talent arisen, They flung the fleet forward in fashion." (edited)

Allan sat back against the wall and listened intently, by the end of it he just. Slowly blinked. Did that actually just happen? Did Dion really just - do that? Right now? "Holy shit," he said, laughing breathlessly as he shook his head in disbelief, "you just - made that up, just now. Okay, yeah, I'm impressed. That was amazing," he looked down at his desk for a moment, quickly picking up a notepad and a pen. "Do you mind... writing it down, at all? I feel like Risren would really enjoy it too."

Dion bowed slightly. "Thank you, my dear, and I don't mind at all!" He approached, took the pen from Allan, and leaned over the desk as he wrote, 'til he was done and handed the limerick to Allan. His writing was fancy - basically poetry in calligraphy; spontaneously-made art. "Consider it payment for the shorts. Please tell me what he thinks when he reads it. Now, did you want me to get changed in another room, or here?"

"Oh, I'll definitely let you know," Allan said, folding the paper neatly and setting it into one of his pockets to absolutely show Risren as soon as he saw the other man again, which would hopefully be soon. They were, after all, business partners and Risren was the first friend he'd made on the base! "Well," Allan looked Dion up and down again, and he decided he obviously preferred one of those two options, but - it'd be sort of odd to say something like that to a person he just met, he figured, "I feel like the answer to that's up to what you wanna do. Personally, I don't mind." He shrugged, leaning against the wall again.

"Really? Are you sure?" Dion said, with a too-innocent smile. He was pretty sure the answer was yes, but there was never any harm in making extra sure - especially if it provided the opportunity to be a tease. Still, he walked over to the nearby sofa/comfortable seating appliance and began to undo the laces on one of his boots; he wouldn't be able de-trouser otherwise. Inconvenient? Yes, but worth the look. "You can always say no, but I do enjoy an enthusiastic yes." (edited)

Allan chuckled, absolutely loving Dion's energy here. It reminded him a bit of himself, and that ... he couldn't decide whether he felt like that was a challenge, or if he was actually getting a bit flustered seeing his own tactics used in reverse. Maybe just a bit more of the latter, or both. He couldn't really tell because he was definitely not thinking any thoughts right now. "Oh, I'm always sure," he ended up saying, waving his hand in an almost sort of dismissal as he watched Dion move over to the couch.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd help me with these, would you? I could do it myself, but it'd take longer," Dion asked, in what they both probably knew was an obvious ploy to get Allan to come closer. Although, to be fair, tall laced boots do be like that no matter how simple you tie the knot. "Although I don't mind taking any excuse to prolong my stay here ever so slightly. I like to get to know as many people on the station as I can, especially those who are bold and easy on the eyes." (edited)

Allan laughed a bit at that last statement. He wasn't sure why, but he felt just a bit flustered right now by that, even though he did things like this literally all the time. So it shouldn't be any different when people say things like this to him, right? It shouldn't have been. Maybe he had to recall his days in the Academy, seeing as his last posting was full of people that were either boring or not interested (shoutout to the lesbian chief engineer at Allan's old posting. She was cool as fuck). "Well," Allan said, walking over and in fact sitting on the floor next to wherever Dion's boots were, helping him unlace them. He definitely knew that laced boots were like this, he'd switched to zippered boots a while ago but he did admit there was a certain flair that came with the lace. "You could say the same about yourself, but ... I'm sure you already get that," he looked up at the other with a smile. Definitely an... interesting perspective to be in right now.

"I do, but it doesn't please me any less each time, so please feel free to say it as much as you want." Dion took care of the other boot, though he occasionally glanced over at Allan, enjoying the angle, 'til they were both unlaced, then pried them off. Obviously he was wearing black thigh-high socks with garter belts. Then he stood up from the sofa. "Alright, you can step away now, if you want." Whether Allan did or not, Dion shamelessly changed into the Starfleet Shorts, then struck a hands-on-hips, hair-flipping pose. "How do I look?" (edited)

Allan absolutely took note of the black thigh-high socks with garter belts, and needless to say he didn't really step away. In fact, the engineer was left a bit dumbfounded for a moment as he watched Dion change into the shorts, and then remembered that yes, this was a business, and he... he had appearances to keep up with that, didn't he? But this whore on the floor really was just left awestruck by how good Dion looked in these shorts. Like, he didn't like to make comparisons, because it was clear that everyone looks good in Starfleet Shorts, but... this guy... really seemed to pull it off. "Y-yeah," he said, realizing that wasn't even an answer to Dion's question. "I mean, these are... these are the shorter pair, right? If that's the case, the second pair should be absolutely perfect for duty work and all." Maybe it was because he was still on the fucking floor and therefore felt much shorter than he actually was, but something about this interaction to him felt ... off. Maybe he really was out of it.

"Perhaps you should start a petition. I can help; I'm pretty persuasive. Now, are you just going to stay down there or do you need help up?" Dion said, offering Allan a gloved hand and a soft smile. "I hope I'm not too much for you. I've been told I have a... Strong presence, at times." Allan'd stuttered a bit in his reply, and it was at times hard to tell if that meant someone was flustered or nervous. (edited)

Allan's eyes suddenly lit up. A petition! That was the word he was looking for these past view days, it seemed it was just skipping his vocabulary all this time. He took the other's hand, standing up with a smile as well. "Yes! A petition, that would actually be... really good, probably. See, Alizati- the CEO here, he already said me and Risren could wear the shorts, but if we could get them approved as an option for the whole base..." He grinned at the very idea of such, then shaking his head as the other mentioned having a strong presence. "Nah, don't worry. I, uh, usually do... too?" He laughed breathlessly, bringing a hand (the hand that hadn't been holding Dion's, at least) to the back of his neck. Definitely flustered.

"You do. I find it quite enjoyable. It's rare I can find someone who can keep up with me, so please, don't be afraid to be yourself." Dion moved the hand that had been holding the other man's to Allan's shoulder, rubbing his collarbone with his thumb a little in a gesture he hoped was comforting, then sat back down to put his boots back on, an endeavour which would be as much of an ordeal as getting them off was. "I'm afraid I'm running out of excuses to stay, though, unless you want to think of any. Perhaps I shall just walk around the station a while, as advertisement for your petition." Though, to be honest, the thought made him a little nervous. Flustering a guy in the privacy of his room was one thing. Walking around with your statuesque thighs mostly bare where any old Vulcan might see them is another. But he was also tired of being terrified of them all the time. Exposure therapy had to start somewhere.

Allan smiled. It was in fact a comforting gesture, and he looked down at the ground for a moment as Dion went to put his boots back on, taking the words in to actually process in his brain. Don't be afraid to be himself. Huh. Was that maybe the first time someone had ever told him that? Maybe. He wasn't going to think too hard about that, though. Nope. "Well," The engineer moved to the desk, picking up that little notepad he had again and looking back over at Dion, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, swinging his legs over it to actually be sitting on the arm because well, that was just what he did. "I actually need to know how to start one of those, don't I? I'm afraid I don't actually know in the slightest how those things start."

"Well! You've come to just the right person. I'm no lawyer, but my work involves all the ins and outs of trade negotiations and political red tape, not to mention I studied it in the Academy for preparation, so I know enough to get a petition up and running." Unfortunately, the roleplayer did not. Dion gave clear and precise instructions as to how to start a petition, and helped Allan draw up a legal document he could could take to a superior officer and get approved, or just immediately start handing out around the base to be signed, pending a more intricate Google on how petitions work. Wow. The realism. The detail. It's like we're really there, writing up the booty shorts round robin ourselves.

Allan sure as fuck hoped they didn't need to get a lawyer involved. He wrote down and everything Dion said about starting the petition, and in addition probably handed the notepad off to Dion at some point to have Dion actually write the words down, since Allan sucked ass when it came to writing words down whatsoever. Strangely enough, they both were able to put together a lovely petition demanding Starfleet Shorts to be an option for the standard uniform just alongside pants and skirts. As they switched writing turns Allan probably let his hands graze over Dion's for a moment too long on purpose, and he'd probably also moved closer to him so they could pass the paper between them and look over eachother's shoulders more easily, but that was aside from the point, really. It was just Allan being himself, after all. "So... this should be good to just start having people sign?" He asked once they had drafted it up, leaning over to look at the notepad again as Dion put the finishing touches on it, moreso subconsciously leaning his chin on the other's shoulder out of habit. "Like... I can just go up to people? And ask them to sign it?"

Dion tried not to think too hard about the hand-brushing. Sure, he had gloves on, and he'd offered Allan a hand up earlier, but he'd been... In control then, for lack of a better word. He kept his composure, but the 'accidental' touches did make the tips of his pointy ears turn a shade greener each time. If only he could stop thinking about what his father would think if he saw this, he would be able to enjoy this more thoroughly. As an act of gentle but much less subconscious retaliation against Allan leaning his chin on his shoulder, Dion gradually angled his sitting position towards Allan so that they were pressing thighs. The petition was perfect, though written in radically different handwriting. "I think so! Sounds... Fun, actually. The promenade in the Utility ring and maybe somewhere in the Environmental ring would be good places to start. Have you been shown around yet?" Something about this felt... Kind of exciting. It was just a petition, and it was perfectly legal, but still, for someone who'd grown up with a very strict set of expectations and rules to the point there were bars on the windows of his birdcage of a childhood home, it still felt like an act of defiance - and if such acts were a part of Allan being himself, Eshen was grateful to know him already. It felt... Freeing.

"Hmm," Allan thought, chin still on Dion's shoulder as he looked the paper over before taking it off and nodding at Dion. "That'd probably be good! I actually..." he thought for a moment. He'd been to the main engineering room, met his boss, and then him and Risren went to the holodeck to do the Starfleet Shorts Photoshoot... and that had been pretty much it. "I actually haven't, I'm pretty sure the only places I've been around here have been the holodeck and the main engineering room - and, well, here, of course," it was honestly surprising to even himself that he hadn't been around more, but to be fair, he'd only been here for like, two days tops. He usually was one to explore a lot more, but he guessed he had been so absorbed in the task of getting booty shorts on the asses of his new friends that he'd overlooked that aspect of the new job. "Shall we?" He placed his hand on Dion's thigh, partly as a light tap, and partly as a brace to get himself up from the sofa so he could put on some actual shoes that were meant for walking. He was excited to explore - and challenge authority! Two things Allan loved doing most.

"We shall - oh! Do you want to invite your friend as well? This time or next time, because I don't think I'll be able to show you everything at once. I want to meet the other half of the genius." Partially because he'd looked pretty good on that announcement photo, partially because he'd inferred Risren was important to Allan, and it would be nice to include him in Allan's tour of the station, especially considering the fact that Dion hadn't spotted the handsome lad (or lass, or looker - he was assuming from the he pronouns but he didn't actually know) meant he was probably also new.

Allan nodded. "Yeah, I can go ahead and invite him! And, well, if he's busy we'll just do that next time, yeah." He wrote a message out on his PADD inviting Risren to be shown around on a tour of the station with his new friend Dion, which can be promptly received at whatever time is convenient for the roleplayer on the other end of it. He was definitely super excited to explore and get people to sign this petition, though. "Where to first?"

Hmmm. Where would Allan enjoy... "Well, the retail outlet has a lot of good stores for clothes and accessories, if you're interested in spicing up your top half. Gliqqigug's is pretty good for coffee dates, Dich's has very tasty baked goods, Rana's is a good bar for casual hangouts. There's two other stores I haven't been to yet, but... I don't know if you're interested in books or antiques. Which of those appeals to you?" Dion certainly was. He was an energetic youth with an old soul.

Allan, as it turned out, enjoyed most things. "Hm, all of those sound good, honestly, especially.... oh, antiques sounds very cool, but should we start... should we start with the retail outlet to get some signatures? I feel like likeminded people might be around there most likely," Allan tapped his clipboard with a pen that he actually went over the desk to switch out. Just to make sure the other pen didn't run out of ink! Antiques, though... that sounded very cool.

Oh, he did have an interest in antiques! Good. Eshen wouldn't have to worry too much about exposing a slightly more 'boring' part of his personality. Not many people were into Victorian wardrobes. "Sounds like a plan!" Eshen said, then slapped his hands on his knees and stood up. At this point, Allan would probably notice the ends of the fingers on his gloves were actually slightly pointed. He had sharp Klingon nails under there, and the smile he gave Allan exposed slightly sharp canines; it gave him an odd feline quality, though Eshen's claws were not retractable. "Although I have an absolutely ravenous appetite so I might want to get something to eat while we're there." Eshen had gorged himself on cheese earlier and yet here he was, hungry again. His metabolism was ridiculous.

Allan, as with Alizati, noticed these things about Dion but felt no need to draw attention to them - these things were simply mere fun facts for the engineer, to be stored away in his brain for if he ever needed them again. "Sure, sure, anything's fine with me in that case," he said, putting the clipboard into his satchel and slinging it onto him before also putting on actual shoes and opening his door. He genuinely didn't mind most foods, his culinary taste was probably as broad, if not more so, than his taste in people. "Feel free to lead the way."

"Sure. Can I leave my other shorts in here so I don't have to hold them the whole time? Otherwise, we can drop them off in mine and Nalas' quarters - oh, wait, no, they'd be a good example for the petitioners, wouldn't they?" Dion said, walking out the door into the #middle-section-i-corridor.

Wow. That was quick. What a flex it was, indeed. Allan couldn't help but blush, just a litle flustered after all. "Um, yes? Have I ever not done something because it was dangerous? I don't think so," he laughed, of course when it came to things on the job that was less true, but for everything else? He was no stranger to danger. "But, yeah, I have ... credentials," that was such a big word! Wow, "with both of those specifically, so I'd honestly like to see exactly how you could be worse than both."

He didn't drop Allan immediately. Instead, Dion looked from the sofa to the bedroom, as if to ask exactly how fast they wanted to take this. Going to the bedroom would probably mean either an imminent timeskip or a scene end emoji. "Well, I'd be delighted to demonstrate, but don't say I didn't warn you." Not that he wouldn't stop if Allan did get overwhelmed; he was just being a little shit in his own right.

The scene was definitely... messy. To be fair to himself, it wasn't completely his fault that nearly everyone on this station seemed interested in him and in Starfleet shorts, and it was his honorable duty to hook them up with both. As such, though, the quarters were probably a bit of a mess, but it was okay because today was Allan's Cleaning Day that he'd decided just now would be the day he cleaned the quarters. If for anything, it was to make sure they were clean by the time... Konstanze Falada-Schuchert came back into the room. They'd somehow not met yet, and Allan could only figure that was because of their schedules not aligning. All he could hope for is that they weren't being kept awake at night by his... antics, and surely they wouldn't have been - from his own experience, Starfleet bedroom doors could drown out a lot of noise, especially when you needed to sleep and wake up early the next morning. Whether that was a perceived or actual effect, he wasn't sure. Either way, the engineer was cleaning up the room, picking up many, many pants legs that were strewn about the floor, the couch, and his desk - because where else would they go? He decided they'd ultimately go in a box by his desk, in case they somehow needed more fabric for shorts at any point.

She was sleeping and dreaming one of those really whacky dreams. At first she was back at her mum's flat in New Berlin, but her bed had been too little for her (no shit) and there were a buch of pink ducks running around. She tried to make the shut up so she could explain the importance of logistics in historical wars on Earth to them, but they kept singing "Fuchs du hast die Gans gestohlen". This in turn annoyed her and she screamed at them that they were ducks and not geese and all of this was stupid. Then her grandfather had called and told her to buy bolts. So she had left the building and tried to look for a store only she couldn't find it and had to ask a bunch of people for directions after she got lost twice. When she finally found the shop she'd forgotten what kind of bolts and when the shop came closer and closer to closing the employees turned into mosters and attacked her, which was when she woke up. Somewhat puzzled she lay in her bed for a few moments, before she realized her roommate must be around according to the sounds coming from their shared area. She got up, decided now was as good a time as any to introduce herself and opened the door, where she stood for a moment observing what was going on in the room. "What are you doing? Oh and also hi." She lifted her hand and waved at him. Her hair was probably a mess and so was the slightly off pink coloured band T-shirt she was wearing (It had been white once, but something had gone wrong with cleaning it.), but that wasn't her problem and if he had a problem with it then she'd rather know now than later.

Allan paused what he was doing, dropping some more pants legs into the Pants Legs Box before leaning against his desk and waving at the woman. So she was cute, first off. So already a great sign in a roommate. He probably recognized the band on her tshirt, too, so that was cool. "Hey! Name's Allan, I'm just, um. Cleaning up, really, we've been making a lot of Starfleet shorts from this thing here," he tapped the machine on his desk, "but as a result there's just a bunch of leftover fabric from the pants, if that makes sense."

She eyed the pants legs, the idea of the sorts was totally fun and she'd heard about it too, so she wasn't surprised, but all of that fabric just lying around all useless didn't sit right with her. "You should totally recycle those, maybe you could make some sort of merchandise out of them." She picked up one of the trouser legs and held it up in front of her. "Stupid idea, but I'm thinking of pillows, might just be because I'm tired tho. One way or another, nice too finally meet you, feel free to ignore my name and call me Conny, unless of course you wanna try your luck with the whole thing. How's the station been treating you?"

Allan thought about that for a moment. "Well, Conny, I don't think pillows are that bad of an idea. I was planning on recycling the fabric somehow regardless, but pillows..." He also took one of the trouser legs and held it up, looking at it carefully. "Honestly, that could work pretty well. Statiom's been treating me pretty well overall, still have yet to explore all of it as much as people have explored these quarters, but," he shrugged. "It's been good."

"I found a really nice climbing tree, which really shouldn't be that exciting, but I still can't believe this base got trees, there's a whole forrest. It's so much better than my last post, plus the people here don't seem to have a problem with not actually existing, nor have any of the supplies I worked with disappeared yet, so I'm feeling like I'm in paradise really." Her grin was wide and very toothy as if supplies not vanishing was somehow something special. " I've not seen everything either tho, if I've got anything to say bout that it'll change tho. What do you do anyways? When you don't supply everyone with more interesting fashion that is?"

Allan's eyes widened at the mention of an entire forest on the base. What? "An entire forest? You're kidding," Allan said, before realizing that from the look in her eyes, Conny wasn't joking about that. "Holy shit, that's insane. I just.. I do engineering stuff, I mean - me and my friend Risren built this machine in the first place. What do you do?"

"I'm your local logistics officer, come to me for restricted substances, metal parts and more." She said in a voice that was imitating the way people in advertisements spoke. "No but seriously do tell me if you need something, I can't get everything, but it's always worth a try." She shrugged, then she got up from the tabe again and started to help him tidy the room up. "Actually if you've got time and obviously if you want to you can totally come with explore the station later."

If Allan's interest wasn't peaked before, it definitely was now. "Restricted substances?" He asked, tidying up the last of the discarded fabrics and raising an eyebrow as he asked the question. "Honestly, I'd love to explore.... well, speaking of restrictions, do you have clearance for the jeferries tubes? Or is that something completely different in terms of what you do?"

[PADD] @Allan Allen

My office. Now.

-Lt. Voxellus, Chief Security 777

[PADD] @Sam┊Georgia┊Jasmine┊Ken

k, b there soon

- Ensign Allan Allen

[PADD]

Hey, it's Dion! Just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing after the events in Engineering the other day. Care to meet up in Gliqqigug's this evening? 1900, maybe? - Dion

[PADD]

Works for me! cya then - Allan

Allan was currently preparing for the all-nighter he was soon to have. He'd probably bought a few more coffees to-go at Gliqqigug's before he left, just in case he really needed the extra caffeine. After all, he was not only going to have to stay awake, but he wanted to at least halfway decently show up and do his shift tomorrow without falling asleep on the job itself. The goal, really, was to be awake enough to do the shift but be ready to pass out immediately after, which was the brig time after all. The engineer still wore the same outfit he had met up with Dion in, the same shorts and shirt, although he'd since taken his boots off, just in his socks because, well, this was his quarters? For the same reason, then, his shirt was also unbuttoned. He'd been cleaning up around, making sure the stray pants legs and whatnot were stored away (because that actually proved helpful to keep one handy when that comms officer had been bleeding) and that any other general mess that had accumulated was swept away and gone. As he cleaned, Allan had always had one of those cheesy habits of singing into whatever object could look like a microphone as he did so. Today, that object was a bottle he'd found lying on the floor, maybe it had soda in it at one point or something? Didn't matter, he was just singing his little heart out to whatever cheesy pop or rock or whatever you'd like to imagine. Maybe he did like, one of those little slides in his socks from time to time, like that dance scene in Risky Business or whatever the movie was. Regardless, he was just having fun until Dion got here. And then they'd have even more fun, probably.

Eshen, now Dion, also arrived in more or less the fit he'd arrived in earlier - including boots, since he'd been walking around, though he'd soon take them off indoors. He knocked on the door to be let in. Unfortunately, the doors on the Station were airtight for obvious reasons, so he couldn't hear Allan's singing on the other side, but if he could, he'd've smiled to himself. In his hands, he had a tupperware box full of canola oil fried plantain, each of which were oval-shaped, golden and crisp with caramelised edges and sprinkled slightly with sea salt. He'd timed it right so they were still hot by the time he arrived.

Allan, halfway across the room, figured he'd just let Dion in via whatever remote way of doing that he had, probably the voice control or something. He turned the music off as well when the door opened, because - well, it was loud, but bottle still in hand he felt like he'd make another attempt at one of those little sock slides straight towards the door. Luckily the floor wasn't entirely slippery or anything, so he didn't slide into Dion or anything, and in fact stumbled just a little when he came to a stop. It looked cool for maybe like, two seconds but then the engineer actually had to get himself up. "H-hey! Dion! Did you - did you see that? It's crazy, right? You can just -" he looked at the floor, realizing that the physics of this is maybe not what Dion wanted to hear about right now. "You can just put that... oh my God, you actually did it?" He looked at the tupperware Dion was holding. It looked good alright, and he bet it tasted just as good too. "Wow."

Dion probably would have been interested in the physics. Wouldn't have understood them at all, but he enjoyed when people spoke of topics of which they were knowledgeable or fond. "I did it! I always do. I have a cooking holodeck program where I just sort of go ham making things for my friends. Sometimes I even pretend I'm a famous chef!" He walked in and handed the tupperbox (no, not that kind of tupperbox) to Allan. "Eat them while they're hot. I liked your little slide. Were you singing into that bottle?"

"Wowww," Allan said in response to Dion admitting he pretends to be a famous chef. As he opened the tupperbox, he didn't even think Dion was pretending about that. "Wait, these actually smell so good, what the fuck?" He said, taking one and eating it. "And what the fuck, Dion, they're good as hell too? Literally," he ate another one, and then held one out to Dion. "Have you tried them? And, uh, about the bottle, yes. As is normal behavior."

Dion took the proffered plantain and politely ate it, but said, "Don't worry, I've had my fill already. My appetite is huge; there were three times as many of these before I came here. And... Is it? I've never done it. I didn't have the... Kinds of friends who did that kind of thing when I was younger." (edited)

Allan's smile sort of dropped into a look of disbelief and somewhat... bemusement? Amusement, even? As he looked up at Dion. "You're kidding," he said, holding the tupperbox in his hand and visually imagining how many three times that might be, and then looking Dion up and down. "Huh." "Yeah, I mean, it's what people who really like music and singing do, I think? I dunno, I've always done it when I'm cleaning things, makes the time go by a bit faster."

"Hmmm. I suppose I did hum and sing to myself when I was home alone, but never with a bottle. I also read a lot. Cookbooks, classic Earth lit, sheet music, language dictionaries... I spent most of my time in the library, really." Most houses do not have personal libraries, but Dion spoke of that is if it were normal. Bougie lifestyle: exposed. Dion sat down on the common room sofa. "Do you ever read? Paper books, I mean. Also, what's the plan?"

"Uhh," Allan looked back up at Dion and walked over to the sofa, also sitting down. "Well, I can't say I've ever read too much since the Academy, not gonna lie, I think the last time I read a book was... I can't even remember, so that should tell you... something," he said, really hoping that didn't make him look incredibly stupid in front of his friend. "The plan is I think just everything you suggested and then some? I dunno, I finish these, and then it's anything from there. I could do whoe- whatever right now, really." He shrugged, eating another plantain.

Dion wasn't gonna judge. Most people didn't read these days. At least, not as much as he did, and usually on their PADDs. Still, he would recommend it. Years spent trapped like Rapunzel in his ivory house had made him a real renaissance man. He smiled a little at Allan's freudian slip, but otherwise made no comment, though he did not notice that his sheer shirt was unbuttoned; with the shorts, he was showing so much skin one might wonder what the point was of wearing anything at all, but, of course, it made him look good. "So... Lyrics, truth or dare, and deep conversations? I've got some notes in my bag. That song I was writing about Dionysius, but also some other ideas. I don't want our first song to be one that's named after me. Also, have you met any other potential members?"

"Right, right, and then some other things... depending..." he said, looking over at Dion as he spoke. "I honestly don't think I have. I mean, as much as I like Alizati, I don't think he showed me any hints at musical ability, and I've been running into other people here and there, but ultimately... I think for now, this will have to be a duo," he reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a pen. "Let's see the notes first, then? That tune I was humming in the coffee shop earlier wasn't a bad start at all."

Some other things, depending, indeed. Dion made no comment as Allan spoke, but shuffled a little closer and swung a leg over Allan's thigh. He wouldn't usually make such an casually affectionate gesture, but they'd straight up slept together, so it was probably fine; it was all part of the game, after all. Still, out of the corner of his eye he watched Allan's reaction to see if it was okay. Boundaries could change with context or circumstance, after all. "Well, Vulcans are usually pretty good at music at least on a technical level, but... I really can't imagine that man in a band, to be honest." Wait, how did they end up talking about Alizati again? Abort! Dion quickly dug out his notes. Good distraction. They were the tune and lyrics to a song basically in the same vein as The Cult of Dionysius by The Orion Experience, but not that song, because even though it would have been published yonks ago, it would still technically exist in the Trekverse. "There's actually a lot of back-and-forth in this song so it should work quite nicely for us, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Allan agreed, putting his arm around Dion's shoulder since the other did him the favor of moving close enough for him to do so. Did this mean he only had one hand free, sure, but luckily he knew how to take pen caps off with his teeth like any normal person does. "Okay," Allan said as he looked over the notes, sort of just guiding the pen in the air above it to be able to read the lyrics as he started humming the tune again. "Okay, the tune slapped back in the coffee shop, but these lyrics? This is some sexy stuff, Dion. You really meant it when you said you were serious about it, wow - do you mind if I...?" he started to draw a space for a line of music under the main tune, titling it 'bassline'.

Ah. Dion was usually the one who put his arm around the other person's shoulder, especially when they were slightly shorter than him, so this was... Nice. He leaned into it. Not too much, though, he was still a heavy guy. "Absolutely! I love the idea of being in a band. All group activities, really. Even if it's just with you. Perhaps especially if it's just with you. You're a fun guy to be around." Dion punctuated that sentence with a wink, for some reason compelled to make the tone a little less sincere. "Thank you, though. I wrote it in the spirit of myself," Or, well, Dion, anyway, "But I was hoping you'd vibe with it, too. I don't have many suggestions here, so I could just watch and feed you plantain as you figure out the bassline if you like." (edited)

Allan nodded, moving his arm down to be at Dion's side rather than his shoulder, which for some reason provided Allan with a better overall balance to write with his other arm, placing the notebook down on Dion's leg because let's be clear, Dion's leg on top of Allan's own was a much better support than a table, probably. "Glad to know the feeling's mutual, then," he said as he penned down the lines for the sheet music first, drawing them straight across before humming the song again. Then, he paused, writing something down. "It's a great vibe. And that's -" he paused writing for a moment, looking over at Dion. He just Looked at him for a second with a smile before he laughed a little, "an excellent idea, although, if you could hum the main melody while you do it, it'd make it a lot easier for me." (edited)

It was a good idea, sort of. Though Dion's leg muscle was as hard as the table surface when tensed, at rest, his thighs were a bit squishy. It was kind of like resting the notebook on a pillow, though not quite that soft. "That's..." Dion hesitated. It was just humming, right? And it was only the two of them. Still. What if he'd shut off too many of his emotions and his humming came out... Bland? Dion was not bland. But then what if it was too expressive? There was a reason he sang only when he was alone in the house. His father wouldn't have approved. Was there some excuse he could think of as to why he couldn't even hum? Not really. And he'd been silent for far too long now. "I don't know."

Would Allan understand what Dion meant by that? Quick dice roll says no, his mind didn't quite put this together yet. "Oh, I mean," he laughed a little again, "I can feed myself the plantain if doing both at once is too much..?" He genuinely didn't know what Dion didn't know, so the best he could do was offer a potential solution to the problem he did not know.

"No, it's not... Never mind. I can do it." Dion took a deep breath. Allan wasn't a Vulcan. This wouldn't be too expressive for him. So he began to hum. It started off well at first; working with Allan to figure out the bassline, occasionally feeding him plaintain (a D himself; he was a hungry boi! 'Twas the price of Vulkling strength), occasionally making witty or flirtatious comments. His voice had a pleasant, low reverberation to it, an assuring tone you'd like to hear from a counsellor or one of those ASMR youtubers, and perfectly in tune, until at one point it cracked and Dion stopped humming completely, his face flushed a little green. One might simply thing he was embarrassed he'd lost tune for a second. And he was, but that was only a small part of the problem. He was unable to begin again.

Allan initially tilted his head to the side as if to confirm with the other that he was okay with doing that, but he supposed he got his answer as they went ahead and did the thing. All the witty and flirtatious comments, of course, as Allan began to hum a fitting bassline, writing it down onto the notepad and subconsciously, more or less, tapping his fingers against Dion's side as he figured it out on paper as well. When Dion stopped, the tapping stopped, but he finished humming his own bit of the measure they were on and wrote it down before looking up at the other. "You okay?" Need anything? Would have been his next phrase. Maybe he needed some water or something, or to take a break - Allan didn't know, but at least the way he looked at Dion implied that whatever it was, there was definitely time for accommodating to whatever it was.

Tell him you have - "I'm fine. Just... Distracted by you." Dion said, not even letting the entity that symbolically represented his internal monologue and literally haunted his dreams finish its sentence before he immediately deflected any of Allan's concerns using his usual facade of flattery. "But I'm a bit parched from the humming and we're also nearly out of plantain. Maybe we should drink a lot of coffee and play that game?"

"Right," Allan said - he didn't quite believe Dion's attempt at flattery. He played along regardless, though, tightening his grip on Dion's side just slightly as he set the notepad aside, so now his other hand was really just on Dion's thigh anyways. "I see how that could happen," he said, looking over at the kitchen, where the coffee was, and then back at Dion. "That sounds like a good idea."

The position they were in was almost like being held. Not just casually, but... Tenderly? He'd embraced three people like that before; Aella, Nalas, and Adill, and those were people he trusted more than anyone else in the world. Allan, however, he knew intimately and yet barely knew, nor did Allan know him, really. But that was the point, wasn't it? That's how he navigated relationships with people outside of his little circle of honesty. Rule of Friendship Acquisition #2: make them think they know you. His priority was always to perform the role he thought others would find most entertaining. And for Allan, that was Dion, who did not have stage fright, and did not need to be handled gently, even though he treated Allan in such a way (except when he asked him not to). So Dion untangled himself from Allan and stood up. "I brought some other stuff with the plantain, you know," he said, gesturing to the bag he'd definitely had the whole time. "Are you in the mood for a Klingon Raktajino that we once drank to give us the fighting spirit to kill our gods?"

And that was actually the goal, for Allan at least. To pretty much hold Dion, although he wasn't actively thinking about anything other than the possibility of kissing the man if he held him for any longer than this. That was something he actively wanted. He wasn't actively thinking about the fact that he did want to hold Dion in this sort of tender way that he was, somehow, already doing. He didn't realize that he -wanted- to handle Dion gently in the same way that Dion had offered to handle him. Regardless, though, Dion stood up and all of Allan's thoughts were diverted with that. "Yo, what?" He looked at the bag, that Dion definitely had the whole time, crossing one leg over the other and putting his hands on his knee, essentially taking the exact pose from that one booty shorts ad photo. "I am totally in the mood for whatever the fuck that shit will do to me, yes. Sign me up."

Despite his inner monologue, Dion couldn't help but smile at Allan's enthusiasm. "Coming right up!" And then he went to the kitchen and returned five minutes later with two steaming mugs of brown, bitter liquid that were just below the threshold of illegal substances. "I won't lie, it'll taste like dirt if you're not a hardcore vantablack coffee drinker already, but it'll definitely keep you up all night." He sat down next to Allan again and set the mugs on the table. "In truth or dare you usually spin a bottle, right? But it's just the two of us, so how about we take turns?" Such as was the nature of Dion, he was already thinking about all the lies he might have to tell in a game explicitly about telling the truth.

Allan took a sip from the mug once he deemed it cool enough and did kind of like, the blinking guy meme before swallowing it, because what the fuck, it did taste kind of like dirt. "Okay, yeah, I see what you mean, but it's ... it's the power that makes it worth it, yeah. Totally," he took yet another sip, and it went down easier this time. Definitely an acquired taste, but he figured he'd get used to it before the end of the night like most things. "Mhm. Don't think I've played this in years so my ideas might suck, but I'm game," he said simply. "Who goes first?"

Dion had his hands on his knees with his pointy ears perked up a little in excitement. They were doing Friendship Things! Next up: bracelets. "I'll go first. Truth or dare?"

Allan thought for a solid moment, and ultimately decided that he thought Dion would think he'd go with dare first, so he went with the opposite. "You know what? Truth."

Dion decided to ask something that might lead to an interesting story. "What's the worst date you've ever been on?"

Allan bit his lip, looking off to the side as he thought. "Uhm.. that's," he said, breathing out as if that would help him think better, "a great question! Uh." There was one obvious, obvious answer, but it was a rather terrible story and definitely not something to kick off a truth or dare game with. And it wouldn't be fair, really, because technically, Allan had excluded that from his list of dates. It didn't count. And it never would. Neither would a list of several others. Additionally, for a guy who had been on as many dates as Allan had, it was hard to choose between all the ones gone awry. However, there were a few that stood out, so he figured he'd just have to talk about one or two of those that were also appropriate for this roleplay server. "There's... a lot, like a lot, but prooobably a tie between the time that a girl straight up told me in a dark alley that she could kill me and nobody would ever know, or the time this one guy, uhh his name was Luke, he literally set my entire bed on fire and said it was my fault? That was pretty bad."

Ironically, Dion also had some dates that would be too terrible to describe on the server. He had a feeling they both had a Secret List Of Terrible Exes. And the way he talked about it so casually, almost jokingly - deflecting with humour. He felt like he'd just gained some insight into the man. That was good, though. It was the point of the game. Dion stuffed down the urge to find that girl and Luke and challenge them to Bat'leths at dawn, and immediately said, softly, with arms outstretched, "Allan. That's terrible. I'm sorry that happened to you. Can I hug you?" Somehow, it felt appropriate to ask for consent again. Should Allan agree, Dion pulled him into a warm embrace, one hand on the back of Allan's head and the other on Allan's back, thumb rubbing it slightly. This was one of the times he would handle Allan gently.

Allan's first instinct for some reason was to laugh, thinking somehow of whatever he could say for a witty response, but nothing was really coming to him. This game was now truth, dare, or hug, and Allan as touch-starved and vulnerable as he was at the moment, without realizing it directly, was absolutely going to choose hug. After laughing he sort of had a strained smile on his face, not that it wasn't a real smile but it was sort of a smile of relief that Dion was actually being really cool about this? He wasn't freaking out too much, he wasn't taking it too lightly, and that meant something to Allan. "Yeah," was all he said as Dion pulled him into the hug, wrapping both his arms at Dion's back and holding him back, and taking a real, slow, deep breath. It may have been this moment in which he realized that it had actually been a while since he'd been hugged like this, but he didn't have any Serious Thoughts about it other than... it felt Nice. Refreshing, almost.

Dion wasn't going to let go until Allan wanted to, so he was happy to play this game just sort of... Holding Allan the whole time if he wanted it. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, giving Allan a lil kiss on the forehead as he was wont to do with people he liked, "Or do you want to keep playing? I choose truth as well."

Allan did that combination of a short laugh and a sigh of relief all the same as Dion asked him what he wanted to do. "Maybe during the.... deep conversations part of the night," he said softly, since... that was definitely a thing they said would happen, and Allan wasn't quite ready for that ... yet. He kept holding Dion in a hug though, perhaps moving one hand up a bit to just lightly go through Dion's hair. It ... it was somehow softer than he thought, probably. "Maybe... um," he tilted his head to the side briefly before looking back at Dion, very much appreciating the kiss on the forehead, thinking of a question to continue the game. Perhaps a question with a bit of a lighter tone... "What... if you woke up, and there were no rules, no restrictions on anything, no judgment at all - what would you do first?"

Dion closed his eyes and tilted his head towards Allan's hand when he did that. His hair was long and silky and smelled like pine and roses and he enjoyed when people appreciated that. Then his eyes fluttered open when Allan asked his question and he stared at the ceiling, trying to think of his answer. "...I'm not sure I'd be able to function in a world without rules," Dion said - no, Eshen said, in an unexpected moment of honesty, perhaps because Allan had just admitted something fairly personal about himself. He followed the laws of Surak, Kah'less, Starfleet, the Rules of Friendship Acquisition, the subtle social mores of each culture he had to memorise for every diplomatic rendezvous - he had very little idea of who he was without rules. He frowned. It was actually a very hard question to think of an answer to. "I think I might be unlike you, in that way. Truth or dare?"

Allan couldn't help but actually smile when Dion tilted his head towards his hand, almost looking like this emoji but smiling instead. He continued to run his hand through Dion's hair, then, because it was long and silky and smelled like pine and roses and he sure as hell appreciated it. "That makes sense, I guess there always has to be some rules," Allan admitted, as much as he hated to. "I guess if there was one rule or judgment people have that you could change, more like," he knew what his own answer would be to that, at least. "And... you know what? Dare."

"I think you'll have to ask me that again later. It's kind of a big question for someone like me. As for your dare -" Dion smiled mischievously. "Well, I could dare you to kiss me, but that would be terribly cliche, wouldn't it? So instead, I dare you to chug the entire mug of God-Killer Raktajino." If he did that, Allan would be jumping off the walls in ten minutes. "If you don't want to do that, then... Swap shirts with me. I like yours, I want to steal it."

Alright, so they both had questions to return to later. Fair enough. "Hmm..." Allan put a finger to the bottom of his lips, smiling as he looked off to the side but definitely also a mischievous smile. "I think... logically, I should save more of the God-Killer brew for later, soo... definitely taking the last choice, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to exchange kisses while we swapped shirts. Just a... just an idea, really." He looked back at Dion with all the intentions. All of them!

"What a good idea!" Dion said, taking off his rose-embroidered bomber jacket and purple crop top, (scarred) tiddies out, waiting for Allan to remove his shirt, then doing what would be briefly summarised for the sake of this server's rating as exchanging kisses with Allan for five minutes before he pulled away, panting a little and holding out his hand for Allan's sheer floral shirt. "Gimme. Also, I too choose dare."

Yes! Exactly what he wanted and needed. Perfect. Allan more than willingly handed over his shirt to Dion, grinning as he leaned back just a bit, even though they were still probably in some sort of form of holding each other, on top of each other or the like. "Darrre, um.... you know, do your best impression of ~~Alizati~~ me, I think that'd be kinda fun."

Dion put Allan's shirt on and adjusted his posture from his poised grace to something that looked intentionally lazy, smirking with hooded eyes and a finger and a thumb under his chin, looking as smug at that cat being pointed at with all the knives. "What's up, it's me, ya boi, the engineer with as many credentials as Dion! I'm a sneaky little criminal genius who got thrown in the brig because my heart was in the right place at the wrong time! Also, my butt is nice."

Allan simply watched the performance, slowly putting on Dion's crop top as he watched, hand over his mouth to avoid laughing too hard and interrupting. After he was done, Allan did a little clap before looking to the side and back at the other. "Wonderful, amazing, especially honored that you think my butt is nice, do I - do I really say "ya boi"? What's up, it's me, ya boi.... oh. I do," he laughed, leaning over and taking another sip of the Raktajino, slow gulp and all. "Oh my God, Dion, I have to go to the fucking briiiig tomorrow," he leaned his head back, rolling his eyes as he laid down on the couch, quite dramatically splaying himself across it. "What am I gonna even do?"

Dion, who was also very much on the couch, presumably also got splayed across a little bit, with either Allan's legs or head in his lap. Oh, that phrasing at the end there was a lucrative opportunity to pop the question. "Generally? Me, frequently, I hope, if you're interested in that kind of arrangement. Tomorrow? Sleep for absolutely ages, I believe was the plan. But maybe if we make the first draft of a song by tomorrow, you can practice your part in the brig. Truth or dare, by the way?"

Yes, to clarify, Allan's head was definitely in Dion's lap. Definitely in the "not intoxicated but pretty much because it's so late at night" moment right now. "Um, yeah, that's a given, Dion, of course I'd be interested in that kind of arrangement, I've been interested in that kind of arrangement, and oh my fucking God, Dion, you can execute that arrangement any time you would like and that time also includes any time right now, and," he was definitely rambling at this point, and took a brief pause to think about the brig thing again. "Yes... yes, that's the plan. You're so smart. One of the... many reasons that I like you," he moved one of his hands around sort of blindly because he couldn't see exactly where Dion's hand was, but he did make his best attempt to try and hold it.

That compliment and the attempted hand-holding made Dion blush more than the long speech about The Arrangement did, but he kept his cool otherwise, patting Allan on the chest with his gloved hand and smiling like a satisfied cat at his enthusiasm. "I'm smart? Says you, hacker boy. But I'm sorry, my dear - in this sort of arrangement, my only boundary is no hand-holding. You may touch me wherever else you'd like, however." Dion carded his fingers through Allan's hair, returning the favour from earlier. "In fact, you seem to be getting a little sleepy. Would you like me to keep you awake in the next room 'til the Raktajino fully kicks in?"

Allan laughed a little at the 'hacker boy' phrasing, he supposed he was smart in his own right, even if he couldn't read books. He could read code! He put his hands across his torso sort of folding them there when Dion spoke next, sort of leaning into the hair brushing as a cat would, closing his eyes slightly for a moment before opening them again, smiling up at him. "Mmhm, sounds like one hell of a deal to me," he smirked, answering to all the terms of this arrangement they've just made. No hand-holding in exchange for... well, literally everything else? "Sign me the fuck up."

"Consider yourself officially a member of The Arrangement, then! Let's go get you initiated." Then Dion picked Allan up, bridal style, because he's Extra like that, and carried him to the next room to keep him thoroughly awake for the next hour... And hopefully not his neighbour, Enchalada or whatever her name was, too. The rooms were pretty sound-proof, right?

[D] They indeed were! And the engineer had set up his to be even moreso. Approximately one hour later, when Allan normally would probably feel like passing the fuck out, the Raktajino really did fully kick in and it felt -fantastic-. Honestly, they might have been wholesomely cuddling or some shit at this point, and this is where Allan would have normally fallen asleep but! The magic of this brew, really did work. He looked around the room and began eyeing his bass guitar, which he totally forgot he had earlier. Hmm. What to do for the next 5 or 6 next hours before he had to get ready for his shift, he had no clue, but at least he felt wide awake!

They were definitely Wholesomely Cuddling. Dion was still clothed, including in Allan's shirt that he intended to keep on 'til he left this room even though he couldn't button it over his chest, and so was Allan, presumably, who was spooning him from behind, to the point where Dion could feel Allan's chest rise and fall against his back at such a rate he didn't quite think he was quite asleep. Not that Dion was either, which Allan could probably tell. In fact, since he was both a Vulcanoid and currently hyper on God-Killing Raktajino, he was wider awake than ever before. He could see sounds and hear colours. "You never answered me last I asked truth or dare, you know," Dion mumbled into a pillow.

"Oh my God, you're so right," Allan whispered, arms around Dion's waist holding him just a little tighter, leaning his head on Dion's shoulder to get in a kiss on his cheek or two. "Truth, obviously." It wasn't obvious. But Allan was also definitely Very Wide Awake on the Raktajino and it was oh so apparent.

Dion rolled over so he could see Allan's face, and also smooch it. "Best date you've ever had?" Dion asked, unaware some part of his brain (which was currently going at 500mph) was sitting in anticipation with paper and pen to take notes for future... Executions of The Arrangement.

When Dion rolled over to smooch Allan's face, Allan absolutely made the effort to hold the kiss longer than originally intended, because, why not? And then that question. "Well, still a loooot of options to choose from, more so than the other question," he said, and of course the whole brain zoomies thing did not help with actually finding the Best Date in his memories ever. "No lie, almost tempted to say the entire last 12 hours or so but... uhh..." He really had to think long and hard about this one. There were really so many amazing dates he had been on, with so many amazing people too! "I'll say one of the best was with, ah, her name was T'Alea, and basically what happened was she took me to this like, crazy island? I don't even remember where it was, I just remember every detail about what it was like. Like the trees were literally taller than any I've ever seen and there were the coolest butterflies I've ever seen, like bigger than your entire face, and..." he spent maybe a few entire minutes describing the landscape and atmosphere of the place, "and we just stayed there for like, a whole week and did romantic shit together, and we did a whollle bunch of shit that got us in trouble, too, like we totally broke into this one place and just, were chilling in there until they caught our asses, and I think if that all counts as one date? That's definitely the winner."

"So... Notes for any excursions we go on: tall trees, big butterflies, and minor crimes? Good to know." It reminded him of that one time he stole the Mona Lisa with Nalas. Ah, the only thing that could've possibly made this moment better is if he was in bed next to him too, but he doubted that would ever happen. Speaking of... "Although, to be clear, this isn't... Romantic. I mean, just casual stuff, right? I'm really more of a Ludus guy with most people I date." Except Nalas and Aella. "Nothing serious. Just want to make sure we're on the same page from the get-go." No catching feelings for a third person. He was not doing it. No. He refused. What's next, holding hands with Allan while they - oh, Allan has a bass guitar! "Hey, you could play that bassline we made on that! Also, I choose truth."

"More or less.." Allan said in response to the first question. He couldn't say he even knew what the word excursions meant entirely, but from the context clues, they sounded pretty good. Speaking of not knowing what things meant, Allan listened on as Dion explained he wanted to keep things casual. "Oh, yeah, for sure, for sure," he said, a very, very slight Boston accent coming out with that phrase. He said that as if he understood completely what Dion was saying, and to be completely fair to him, he thought that he did. Well, he knew he didn't know what Ludus meant, but he could also infer that from context clues and therefore, thought he knew what he was agreeing to pretty damn well. But in actuality, the engineer thought that casual and romantic and whatever the hell else there was were all in one giant group that he failed to probably differentiate from each other until it was a little much too late. But of course... he didn't know that himself, either. "I coullld," he said, eyes darting over to look at the guitar, not exactly wanting to get up from here but also he definitely did want to try and play that bassline. And maybe they'd eventually get around to anothe game like Never Have I Ever or something cheesy like that, too. But... "That requires getting -up-, but..." oh, a truth question? "What... what do most people think is true about you, but isn't really?"

"Probably that I don't have a type. I do. And people are horribly offended when I tell them they're not mine, even if they weren't interested in me in the first place. If a person is dispassionate, stoic or humourless, I find it terribly dull, which ironically ends up excluding a lot of very military Starfleet types from my dating pool. And a lot of Vulcans. I just don't find that 'my job is my life' thing very compelling. Get a hobby." Ughaz'udan was actually a rare exception to this, and to be honest, if Aella hadn't made him notice the scaly man initially, he would've passed him over completely. Not to mention the man wasn't entirely stoic. He'd seen him blush enough times. Still needed to get a hobby, though. "There are probably a lot, to be honest. Some people think I'm not a hard worker just because I have an active social life, but I have a perfect record. Never late. If work/life balance was a competition, I would be winning." Dion glanced over at the bass guitar. "I could... Go get it for you and you could sit up and play it in bed? Also, truth or dare?"

Allan sighed dramatically as Dion suggested to go get the bass, shaking his head. "No, no, I'll get it, you... you stay here," Allan gave the other a kiss to the forehead and a little hug before he got up, getting the bass guitar and sitting back down on the bed. "I get it, especially the last thing... I mean, definitely not a perfect record here, but when I do my job I do like to put my all into it, I mean- you've sort of seen it," he explained as he began to tune the guitar a bit, the low tones of the bass quiet since it wasn't hooked up to an amp, but as the only noise in the room they were still able to be Felt in that way that bass notes usually are. "Truth," he said. And to think he was usually an all dares guy!

Ah. Allan kissed him on the forehead. People didn't usually do that to him because of the ridges. They were usually used to headbutt people in fights. It wasn't as much of a thing as Vulcans with hands, but he wondered if Allan knew what the... Tender implications of that gesture were in Klingon culture. Probably not, so Dion tried not to get too flustered and succeeded, mostly. "Biggest crime you ever committed?" Dion asked, lying on his side watching Allan, unaware of the irony of the question. It's not like he knew Allan's backstory! "Well, I mean, anything you can tell me that I won't have to call security for, anyway."

In Allan's mind, he was just trying to be affectionate, which is something he considered instinctual for himself to be, pretty much. While he was -aware- of cultural meanings and whatnot, the wide variety of people he'd been with who did and didn't particularly 100% fit with their respective culture made him think not much of it, usually. Everyone was different, on an individual level despite any common patterns, he'd learned. "Biggest crime? Like, caught and tried for, probably uh..." He acted like he had to think about it, but there was really only one answer when phrased like such. "Well, I don't know if you would have heard about it in passing on the news or anything, but I shut down Starfleet's website and in turn the majority of their systems for a few days, that was pretty... major. Got some serious time for that one, but now I'm here, so..." he shrugged. It was, after all, nearly... eight years ago? Time really does fly, even if five of them were at the Academy. "Don't worry, security is definitely aware of it, considering it was a pretty major thing in that department. I mean, it's on my record, at least."

"You really are a criminal genius! You just did that for fun? And they still hired you? You astound me more each day, Allan. I can't believe I missed that on your record... I haven't read the roster in a while. I should get around to it." Really might really help solve certain not-Vulcan mysteries! "Also," Dion said, reaching up and poking Allan gently (mindful of his claws), "Stop forgetting to ask me truth or dare. Dare, please."

"For fun and just a little bit of spite, revenge, whatever it is," he laughed, starting to play the bassline he had come up with earlier, messing up a few times here and there but eventually getting the hang of it. "The most fun part, honestly, was livestreaming it. And you could totally read the roster, I mean, I just had it text-to-speech any roster entries to me cause those are lonnnng. You can multitask when you do that too, though, I pretty much built the shorts machine while listening to Alizati's entire file." It was the first one he had to read! He laughed again when Dion gave him to oh so friendly reminder about the game. "Right, right, ummm... oh, maybe send... I'm not sure who's above you, is it the Captain? Send the Captain a wink emoji and nothing else until they respond."

Dion sat up, wide-eyed. "A wink emoji to the - the Station Commander?" Then he lay back on his arms and had a think for thirty seconds (it was ironic that this was such a dilemma for him when he was next to a guy who'd just told him he hacked Starfleet), got up to retrieve his PADD from where he'd thrown it across the room earlier, then got back into bed with Allan. "If I get court-martialed, I'm taking you down with me." Tap tap tap...

"I don't think that's something you can get court-martialed for. Maybe a few hours in the brig at most, if the commander's not cool or something," he shrugged, continuing the bassline on his guitar, nodding his head along to it as he watched Dion tap out the message. "You know, we've got a solid song here. I forget if I asked, what instruments do you play again?"

"Let me be a drama queen, Allan. Besides, Vulkling energy doesn't work well in confinement. I'd be eating my way out of the walls in an hour. Oh, and I play violin, piano... Most string instruments, really. Nice tune so far." Dion squinted at his PADD." He just... Sent me a keysmash? Look." Dion showed Allan his PADD.

"Mhmm, and how do you feel about... percussion? Any song needs percussion, unless we were to... record it ahead of time?" He tilted his head, thinking about it before he leaned over to look at Dion's PADD, making sure to move the bass out of the way so he could lean his head on the other's shoulder. "Yo, what the fuck...? Is that the encrypted message they keep talking about?"

"I have very sensitive Vulcan ears, so I'm not overly fond of percussion. I mean, it slaps to listen to, don't get me wrong, but actually having to sit behind a drum set would be..." Dion sucked in air through his teeth, the canines of which were slightly sharp, leaning his head on Allan's head on his shoulder. "Not good. That's why Vulcan music doesn't have much percussion in it. I'd rather we get a drummer or record it, to be totally honest." Dion typed several things and then deleted all of them. "Maybe he's just really tired? It is three in the morning. I don't know what to say back, ugh." Eshen tried not to show it, because Dion didn't get worried about things like minor rules breaches and winky faces, but he was unreasonably worried this would ruin his aforementioned perfect record.

"Honestly, I don't think you have to say anything much at all when he responded like that, I feel like you're both kinda even at this point and can both justifiably say 'it was an accident' about it, you know?" He thought for a moment about the drums thing. That'd be okay. "Yeah, we can just do that for everyone's comfort, then," he said, looking up and sort of blowing his own bangs out of his face. "So violin, piano... a normal guitar, perhaps? I've got a few in here regardless, I could probably teach you on it."

"Well, I already know how to play the guitar, but... I suppose I might be a little rusty. It's been a while." Dion looked around to see if there was a cool purple guitar in Allan's room. "Should I just... Not say anything, then? And hope he doesn't confront me about it?"

Not a purple one per say, but there was one that was sort of a mix of purple and red, so it'd work well enough. "Yeah, I think you're both on pretty even ground here, despite the power difference, like I said, you both send messages 'by accident' so it's really fair game, if he tries to confront you about it you can say the same as whatever his excuse for his message is, more or less." He said that as if he'd been in situations like this before - which, to be fair, he probably had been. After that, he sort of moved forwards to take the bass guitar off of him, set it down on the bed carefully, and maybe snuck a kiss to Dion as he got up to get the electric guitar leaning against his wall. "I've got this, will need some tuning but..." he handed it to Dion, setting the bass at the end of the bed until he needed it again. "Just tell me whatever you remember, and I'll help you from there."

Sneaky kiss? No. Dion returned the kiss overtly and intensely, then took the electric guitar. Luckily, that beetroot shade of purple is Dion and his roleplayer's shade of purple! He took off his gloves with his teeth; the scars on his body extended down to his wrists. There were some that looks like slashes - but most of the scars on his body looked like slashes, like from a Bat'leth - as well as a few shaped like small crescent moons. His brown hands were surprisingly delicate for a Klingon - long-ish fingers, like a piano player, and his slightly lighter palms had the softness of someone who hadn't had to do a lot of manual labour as a child, but the end of his thumb and a few fingers were harder-skinned from a history of plucking instruments, and one side of his middle finger on the left hand had the little bump an artist gets from holding a pencil a lot. There were also a few small areas of discolouration from small burns during cooking. He held the guitar and plucked a few strings with his purple-painted claws, then tuned the guitar a bit, noodled a bit, then began to play the guitar intro to the song, stopping a few times after he got the notes wrong. It was a little nerve-wracking, but he wasn't singing and his only audience was Allan, so he could manage it. "I think I've got it - maybe pick the bass back up?" (edited)

Allan simply watched and listened to Dion play. Occasionally he'd suggest the right fret or so if Dion paused for too long after getting a note wrong, but mostly let him go for it on his own, considering he played the new song for the first time like it was not hard at all. He was getting a bit lost in it maybe, just smiling and enjoying listening to Dion play when Dion asked him to pick the bass back up. "Yeah! Yeah, I can, and then maybe once we get a hang of that we can get the lyrics in there," he said, picking the bass back up, which was definitely the same red tone as his hair and that wasn't coincidental, playing a few note to make sure it was still in tune. "Okay, you want to count us off or...?" There was probably some sort of metronome app on the PADD as well, in case not.

Allan was being... Sweet about this. Maybe if Dion played in front of him enough times, he'd build a tolerance - work up the courage to sing. He nodded in reply. "I can count us off. 1, 2, 3, 4..." Then he started to play. It was a song of religious reverie, fruits and festivity, and wine and wild revelry - or well, it would be when he added those lyrics, but the way he played still had those vibes - ones that made you want to run away into the woods and sing and dance and go on a bender with the Fae. Halfway through, without even thinking about it, he started humming the tune of the lyrics to himself.

Allan saw no reason to -not- be sweet about it, really. He nodded as Dion counted them off, waiting for the bassline to actually come in and then started playing along. It was so nice when combined together, honestly, and Allan was just rocking along, occasionally doing the thing where he shook his head just out of habit but also to get his bangs out of his face. Around 2 minutes or so into the song there was a bit that was pretty much a break from the lyrics and a guitar solo. Allan kept the bassline steady during that moment, y'know, -jammin-, but he really couldn't help but absolutely grin in that moment, leaning back as he just let himself -vibe- with Dion's playing. "Okayy, fuck it up! I see you!" he laughed, keeping his playing steady and just watching with sheer amazement as Dion finished the solo, sitting back for a moment as the bassline took another break during the next verse. Eventually it came back in again though, and goddamn it slapped. He was just nodding and leaning back and leaning in and fucking having a great time, man. And this was without singing!

Dion finished off the last thirty seconds of the song in a fashion almost as animated as Allan's body language usually was - still graceful, but less reserved, more toe-tapping, head-nodding flair, and more confident humming - not singing, he wasn't quite there yet - until he finished off the song with one final flourish of his hand. He put the guitar down and lay back onto the bed, breathing a little heavy; he wasn't sure if it was from anxiety, excitement, or the fact that he was caffeine-high, fit to slay a deity, though he felt more like he was one right now - no, they both were: Dionysius. If he ever managed to actually sing, he would reach the peak of the Dion persona and he was both thrilled and hesitant at the idea of it. He looked over at Allan, for whom this had probably been nothing, and who had no idea of the problems he had expressing himself in such a way, and yet despite that had managed to slow to Dion's pace enough that he'd been able do it regardless. He sat up a little and brushed aside that floppy side-fringe - what had he called it that one time, the colour of a dying sun? Perhaps 'rising' would be better - that had committed the crime of obscuring Allan's face half the time they were playing, then threaded his bare fingers through his hair. "That was divine, Allan - and so are you." Then he quickly retrieved his hand, though left it ungloved. "But I need a break now, I think."

It hadn't been nothing, per say, but it was enough to at least say that Allan hadn't been able to jam and make music with anyone but himself for at least a year, probably, and the way this got literally all of his creative juices flowing was just excellent for him. He also laid back when the song was done, not really bothering to take off the guitar as he leaned back since he was so accustomed to practicing like this when he was a little more lazy, one arm simply resting over the strings so they didn't play as he let Dion brush his fingers through his hair. "Thanks, but I'm pretty sure that solo of yours was a divine act in and of itself, so-" he said, lifting his hand up in a sort of shrug as he talked, which only made a slight tapping noise when it hit the strings on the neck of the guitar, "I don't even know what that'd make you yourself," he said, smiling as he turned his head to look at the other.

"Please. Your playing was bomb as hell, which is to say you plucked that bass with the finesse of someone disarming one." Dion turned to his side, facing Allan with his head propped up on on hand. "So I'm a God and you're a God, clearly. Perhaps our band name should be something godly. We could even put on a fake concert in the holodeck sometime?" (edited)

Allan turned his head completely to the side on the pillows he was assumedly laying on to face Dion as well, clicking his tongue. "Interesting analogy, but thanks," he said, thinking carefully about the whole band name thing. "Yeah, I don't know if I can come up with names seeing as the shorts machine is just that," he said with a smile, he didn't actually mind the name but... he wanted something cool for the band name for sure. "But I'm definitely open to brainstorming off of whatever your... big word brain can come up with," he said, sort of hovering his pointer finger in a circle like a wand in some sort of gesture to point at Dion's brain. Which was genius at big words. And then he just kind of rested his left arm behind his head. "We've got to do it in holodeck two, but... yes. Sounds like a hell of a plan, and it would let us record the drums wayyy easier than here."

"I'm not sure why holodeck two specifically, but sounds like a plan! That's tomorrow, though. What do you want to do today, right now? Other than me, I mean. That joke is way too easy. Also like me. Anyway, we've still got..." Dion sat up to find his PADD and check the time, then said the amount of hours from the time it was currently to when Allan would have to go to the brig, because I can't be bothered to work it out. "I believe the plan for the wee hours was to talk about deep sh - stuff?" Dion said, almost swearing for a moment. How crude. Never mind he'd just called himself easy five seconds ago. "Or we could just brainstorm names for a while... Unless you know any more games?" Not that he was tired of truth of dare. He could never. "I know we should really rehearse some more so you can have something to sing in the brig, I just, um..." Dion looked away. "Can't really go any further than that right now."

Allan just raised an eyebrow with a silly little smirk on his face as Dion went across that entire line of silly jokes, a look that very jokingly said he wasn't impressed, even though he absolutely was. "Uh-huh," he took the guitar off of himself finally, leaning it against the space between his nightstand and the bed, before turning back to face Dion. "Well, tomorrow's a good bit away, so you've got plenty of time. Whatever you're comfortable with, honestly, I could always try to memorize this when I'm on break, so... no worries there. Seriously man, don't push yourself if you don't feel good with it." What to do next, though, Allan had no idea. It's not like they'd planned out an itinerary or anything. "We could do that, um... I know never have I ever is a game we could do too? And," he leaned up some to sort of brush his hand through Dion's hair, pulling a bit of it towards him very gently as he did so. His fingers may have briefly and ever so faintly brushed by Dion's that were on his chin in the process, but that was completely unintended. "Have you ever had someone braid your hair...?"

Dion flushed a little - Allan had him doing that a lot tonight, it seemed - when Allan's fingers brushed against his, and he quickly gathered his gloves and put them back on. It took a moment for him to reply. Not just because of that, but because even though it made sense for what he knew of Allan to not push him, somehow he feared he was going to anyway. "..Thanks," Dion, Eshen for a moment, said sincerely. "And I have, actually! Some girls in the Academy did, actually, and my Waiyau..." No, that was a bit complicated. It didn't do their relationship justice, but he'd use the Earth term, "My girlfriend, I mean, did it once. If you're asking because you think I'd like it you'd be absolutely correct, though. It usually puts me right to sleep, but considering how caffeinated I am right now, I don't think that'll be a problem. Now, Never Have I Ever - I think I've heard of that game, it's... Where you say things you've never done and other people drink if they have, right? Our coffee is kind of cold, though." (edited)

Allan paused for a moment, trying to understand everything Dion had just said. He -thought- Dion had said that all his relationships were casual, but that was also at 1am and this was 4am and his memory wasn't the total best so really it could have been anything, but if he did, was it girl (space) friend like the ladies he played bingo with at his last posting called each other? Was Allan his boy (space) friend? He didn't really think much about it for more than a few seconds, though. Why would he? "It won't be?" He asked for confirmation that braiding his hair wouldn't be a problem, sort of sitting up and scooting closer so he would actually be able to braid Dion's hair. "It is, but I always played it as the first to have ten fingers out just loses. I guess that gets you less intoxicated, but." He shrugged.

Dion's relationships were simple. All of them were casual, except when they weren't. Which is to say he tried to keep them casual, and did a great job of it all the way through the Academy - then he came to this posting, and Nalas and Aella were here, and so against his best wishes he Caught Feelings. Or, more specifically, they caught him, hook, line, and sinker. Not that he wasn't grateful; for Nalas and Aella, yes, but because it'd increased his over-all capacity for love, which in turn had increased his emotional capacity, though that could be a good or bad thing depending on whether or not you were a Vulcan. But this time, he'd learned his lesson and set some clear boundaries. It was not happening again. He was Vulcan. If he caught any more feelings he had no idea what would happen to his emotional capacity. Explode, maybe? "No problem at all, my dear!" Dion scooted 'n settled in front of Allan so he would have easier access. "I guess that works. Ten fingers sounds like kind of a lot, though. I'll go first. Never have I ever... Been arrested."

"Well, we've got hours, but we can do whatever. I'll count down from ten in my head and if we decide to stop at five or whatever we can, but..." he started to braid Dion's hair, "It's whatever." And then that first one. "Okay, wait, that's totally unfair to the guy who just told you about the time he was arrested, but okay, okay," he laughed, deciding he was going to do sort of a crown braid, fit for the whole being a God theme. "At 9 now. Um, never have I ever ..." he thought for a moment about doing one that he knew for sure would get Dion down immediately as well, but decided he'd be the fair one in this situation for now. "Never have I ever cheated at a game," he said. Even though he was a hacker, he still liked to play games fairly, video game or traditional!

"Me neither. I don't really... play video games? Unless you mean tabletop roleplaying games or holodeck LARPs - which we should definitely do together sometime, by the way - in which case the answer is still no. So I'm still on 10 now, right?" Dion cleared his throat. "Never have I ever..." He decided to try something out. Cautiously. Testing the waters. It wasn't quite admitting stage fright, but it was the closest he could get. "...Sung in front of anyone before." He'd heard Nalas sing some Bajoran songs after that incident in the elevator yonks ago, but all he'd done so far was accompany him with violin. He'd never quite gotten around to actually singing himself.

"I'd totally be down to play one of those, I haven't really gotten the chance to play any yet," he said, before sighing and putting a finger down, mentally. Ok, Dion was maybe good at this game. "...glad to help you work up to that in due time, then. But for noww, um... never have I ever fired a phaser outside of training?" (edited)

Dion hadn't realised his shoulders had been tensed, and they relaxed when Allan reacted well to what he'd said, particularly his phrasing of 'in due time'. Dion had an odd arrangement of boundaries - no holding hands but everything else, no singing but he was perfectly fine with improv limericks... But it all made sense in his mind. "Me neither. Never had the opportunity. So I'm still on 10. I'd prefer a Bat'leth, anyway. Never have I ever... Been in unrequited love."

"Huh," Allan really had to think about that one for a moment. Had he? Wait, yes. That one asshole existed once upon a time and he supposed that did count, because manipulating someone to think you loved them wasn't actually love. "..okay, eight," he said, trying hard to think of a next one. The problem was that he'd simply done so much, and he was quickly realizing that. "Never have I ever lied about my identity to someone."

...What counts as lying about your identity? Was he doing that right now? I mean, Allan knew his other name, Eshen, right? Was he lying about his identity every time he put on a different mask? Was he lying about his identity when he followed the Rules to make himself more likeable? Was he lying when he obscured parts of himself so the other person would like him better? "You mean, like... Identity theft, or...?"

"I was thinking more generally, I think," Allan said, finishing up the crown braid and beginning to touch it up so it actually looked good. "Like... lying about things about yourself to make yourself seem better to other people, kind of. Or worse, for whatever weird reason that would be. Like, when I say identity I guess I mean who you are?"

"I... Have to do that sometimes, actually, for my job as a diplomat, so you got me. Nine," Dion said. That's right, deflect it onto a facet of your job instead of literally your whole personality being that you lie about your personality. Wait, hold on. "How have you - you've never lied about yourself to seem better? Really?"

Allan nodded. "Yeah, I just never really feel like it's necessary, I guess, like you said, for a job or anything. I mean, I just tell it like it is, and if they don't like that then that's their problem, you know?" In his mind, he was just who he was and trying to be anything else was a, frankly, illogical waste of his time. He didn't want to waste time with people who needed him to lie for them, either. "I mean, the only thing I could possibly think of is entering fake usernames and false credentials for hacking purposes, but I don't think those should count because I meant... to other people, yeah."

Dion turned around and squinted at Allan in something between suspicion and confusion. "I don't... Understand," is what slipped out. "But I suppose you're right. You don't need to, because it's not your job. But surely - there must be times, right? You can't just be yourself all the time. What if you suck? What if it's not safe to be yourself? What if there is no yourself?" (edited)

"I mean? If you're in a life or death or otherwise dangerous situation I mean of course, lie, I've fortunately never had to lie about myself to get out of one of those but if you have to, you gotta do what you gotta do, you know?" He said, also perhaps a little confused at why the other was confused. "And I don't suck, and I'm glad to say that I know that at this point in my life. But like, even if I did suck, I would just talk to someone about that, probably? Like you or for something a bit more serious, maybe a therapist? It depends how I sucked, I guess." He laughed a little at that phrasing. "And..." He thought for a moment. What if there was no yourself...? What an interesting question. "There's always yourself. That's all you have, in the end, sans everyone else - it's just you, and so knowing yourself is sort of key to me, to be able to not give a fuck about everyone else's view of myself." He shrugged. That's how he thought of things, at least.

But he didn't have himself. From the moment he was born he was aware of people's perceptions of him - as a hybrid, someone who they'd make a lot of judgements about before they even met, so he had to adjust himself to counteract their expectations; as a Vulking child of two races known to have anger issues, whose identity had to be be tamed into something less feral lest his savage emotions take ahold of him and make him hurt someone; as a child of two cultures with squabbling parents who wanted him to choose one side. He never had the luxury of thinking of his identity as something inherent that was only glimpsed by outsiders, but more something he had to make malleable in order to fit everyone's expectations at once. Who was Eshen K'Tann when he was alone in a room? As far as he was concerned: nobody. "But you're an engineer and a human. People will judge you by your work. I'm..." He didn't want to get too deep into childhood trauma, but he still felt compelled to give some kind of clarification. Maybe it was because his brain was over-caffeinated. "...A diplomat and a hybrid. I have to see myself through the eyes of others at all times. I've never had the luxury of having myself when I can't separate it from the perceptions of others." (edited)

Allan simply listened, gently tying a little end to the braid before letting his hands sit on the other's shoulders, looking at him more closely now. "You're right about that, though. You're a diplomat and a hybrid, yes. And I mean, obviously a diplomat has to pick and choose who they want to be because that's how politics are, which is unfortunate, but -" he sighed. He wasn't sure exactly how to explain his words - he never really was. "I might be an engineer, sure, but outside of work even as a human people judge the fuck out of me for whatever I do. It might not be for the same reasons, of course not, but it's still kind of bullshit? I mean, I hate to say it, but outside of your job, Dion, people who judge you for who you are aren't worth your time." "You're you, and that's whoever you are when you're not worried about how others see you, but just living in the moment and genuinely enjoying what you're doing. That's your self, whoever you are when there's nothing to be afraid of. But it is... easier said than done, I think. That's why I just choose to hang out with people who I know won't judge me for being me, I guess." Because if he didn't, he probably wouldn't feel the same way about himself. He too would probably start to rely on their perceptions of him, but that was illogical at this point, so he didn't do it.

"I understand what you mean, Allan, but... I grew up on Earth, and this is a Federation Station. Most people here are humans. You're accepted in both places, at least in that way. Even if they judge you, they're going to judge you as one of them. And wherever I am, I'm too Vulcan for the Klingons and too Klingon for the Vulcans. I'm an outsider everywhere I go, no matter who I choose to hang out with, and I only get let in if I act a certain way. Does that make sense? If I live in the moment I could get cast out again." Eshen sighed, then laughed slightly. "Sorry. This isn't very... Dion of me."

Allan's brain had yet to grasp the concept of spacism and the complications surrounding and related to it. Yes, he knew of if, he knew how, he'd had previous lovers and friends all tell him many stories, some similar to the one Dion told, but Allan never quite understood -why- people thought to judge others on their species, and he didn't think he ever would. "And that makes sense, but Dion, you might be an outsider to people but my point is if they judge you for that they're stupid. I don't care that I probably insulted whoever on this station but they can fucking deal with it, I'm more than sure. And if they did cast you out again? Dion, I'd fucking go with you," he said, completely looking into the other's eyes as he really wanted to get across that he 100% meant that shit. His grip he wasn't entirely aware of on the other's shoulders loosened a little bit as his expression softened just slightly, "I would." The engineer sighed. "Listen, my point... I - If you only get let in if you act a certain way, that's ... nobody should be forced to act a certain way. Not me, not you. Okay? So I don't care if it's Dion of you or not. If it's you, it's you. And if I start judging you for who you are, Dion, please feel free to throw me out the fucking airlock any time you'd like."

Eshen stared, wide-eyed, laughed, then leaned forward so his face was pressed into Allan's shoulder, his speech muffled. "Don't say such dramatic things, my dear Allan, I'm not going to throw you out the airlock. And what does you'd go with me mean? Is that a metaphor or are you planning on running away with me? We've only technically met twice." It was weird, but he felt like he'd known Allan longer than that, somehow. Perhaps because they were similar in some ways, which made it easier to understand one another, but then also made their differences easier to perceive as well; perhaps it was because they'd skipped a lot of boundaries; or perhaps this was simply the True Power of sleepover party games. "I can't say I'm entirely convinced, Allan, but thank you. You're sweet." Too sweet, and he'd been treating him far too tenderly tonight from Eshen's perspective, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it right now except that when he looked back up at Allan again he felt compelled to kiss him again, so he did, the same as he'd done a dozen times before, but with an undercurrent of tenderness that was perhaps him trying to return the favour.

"It means what I said, Dion. I'm not good enough with language to make metaphors, I mean that if people cast you out of here I'll fucking quit and go with you, because I wouldn't want to keep working some place like that? And I think regardless of how long I've known you, I know whether to support someone I -" he really did catch himself right before a slip, thank goodness he had time to choose the right words, "someone I care about." And truth be told, he cared most people he met and shared deep conversations like this with, why wouldn't he? Allan was a very ride or die type of guy. "You're sweet too, though. That's something that makes you you, for a starter." And then they kissed! And since Dion was being so tender with it, Allan felt it was only fair and good and right to do the same. Was this casual? Sure. Sure it was, because Allan didn't exactly care about words and definitions and the like. He did what felt right in the moment, and that was this.

Eshen parted reluctantly from Allan after about a minute, though at some point he'd placed one palm on Allan's cheek and kept it there. "Allan... I have a confession to make. I... have stage fright. I can't sing in front of people. I was hoping being Dion would make me braver and it'd be fine, and it did, just not quite enough yet, and I love being him, especially the version of Dion I am when I'm with you, but I can't tell if he's my real self, the one you said lives in the moment, or my idealised self, who is capable of doing that whenever he wants..." Eshen shook his head. "Sorry, I have trouble not speaking in metaphors sometimes. I guess what I'm saying is - or, asking, maybe - can we go again, but this time you call me Eshen? I want to see how it feels." Not that he'd never done this kind of thing with people that called him Eshen, but he'd never done that with Allan.

Allan simply listened to the other with a soft smile, sort of leaning his head against the other's palm some as he did so. The things he said made sense, and he simply was an attentive listener in this moment, because he knew if he started talking he might say way too much, as he tended to do. When the other'd finished with that question, it wasn't that he wasn't happy before, but something about the way his smile widened as his eyes looked Eshen up and down slowly was just... a different sort of tender than he was used to. "Yeah," he whispered, holding back the urge to hold Eshen's hand against his face and instead mirrored the other, putting his own hand on Eshen's cheek in the same sort of way. "We can do that, Eshen." And then he kissed him again, gently (but not too gently, or else he'd barely have a result) pushing Eshen back down into the pillows below them.

"The turbolift...?" Allan asked, quite confused himself as to why he would have fallen asleep in the turbolift as he leaned his head against Eshen's shoulder. "Make sense I guess... only got a little sleep in the brig before people were like... running loose and getting stabbed... then there was... main engineering was hotter than Vulcan and... had to take off..." his jacket so that he was only wearing the crop top, he meant to say, as he looked for his bag, which assumedly was either still on him or Eshen had taken. And then he sort of forgot what he was saying, starting to be in some sort of half-awake state again as he got a bit too comfy in Eshen's arms.

"Tell me all about it tomorrow, my dear." Eshen entered Allan's room. "You can keep my shirt if I get to keep yours." Then he put Allan in the bed, tucked him in, and kissed him on the forehead. "Night, sleepyhead."

"Mhm," Allan responded simply to the comment about the shirts, he was definitely okay with that deal especially as he was literally tucked into bed and kissed by this man. "Nigh-night," he responded in sort of a whisper as he then fell asleep. He really would have to tell Eshen about it tomorrow. (edited)

Eshen left to go see Aella, who was waiting in his quarters, and possibly Nalas, who might be there, depending on what he'd been doing during the storm.

[PADD] To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Lt. Cdr. Alizati Dzharok

I would like to speak with you, I require your assistance. Please let me know your earliest availability.

[PADD] To: Lt. Cdr. Alizati From: Allan

Available whenever! Where ever?

[PADD] To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Lt. Cdr. Alizati Dzharok

My quarters if that is alright. Bir, Ikki, and Yuch will be in my room so there is no need to worry.

[PADD] To: Lt. Cdr. Alizati From: Allan

Aight! Will be there soon then.

[PADD]

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo My schedule is quite full these days, but if you should like to meet and discuss the mentor/mentee program, I have a short window of free time between 1700-1830. Signed, Captain Mephistopheles Mo, Commander of Starbase 777

[PADD] To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo

Sure! 1700 where? Signed, Allan

[PADD]

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo My office, or a location of your choosing. Signed, Captain Mephistopheles Mo, Commander of Starbase 777

[PADD] To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo From: Allan

Your office is fine, but I also heard there's a lake here with canoes and all? Up to you. Signed, Allan

[PADD] To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo

Canoes. Sure. Signed, Captain Mephistopheles Mo, Commander of Starbase 777

[PADD] To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo From: Allan

Bet! See ya there. Signed, Allan

[PADD] To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok

I require your assistance, it is not pressing. Please let me know your availability, this is a non-work related matter.

[PADD] To: Lieutenant Commander Alizati From: Allan

Anytime you wish. I'm free until 2300.

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Lieutenant Commander Alizati Dzharok

Then please come to my office now.

[PADD] To: Lieutenant Commander Alizati From: Allan

Bet, cya soon

[D] Ding dong! >>> I’ve had…an time over the last evening, and I was wondering if I could get some of those booty shorts from you? Please? Maggie Roode ~~HoleLover69~~

[PADD]

Absofuckinlutely you can. Allan

[PADD] >>> On my way. Maggie

23:43

Now there was a ding dong from the door.

[D] Allan had been thinking quite a bit about his previous meeting with the Captain and his previous encounter with Alizati. There was a lot of Big Life Questions in this man's mind right now, like the morality of a whole bunch of things, but for now, all he had to worry about was HoleLover69 requesting a pair of booty shorts. He told the door to open, wearing a very simple t-shirt crop top that said "pound cake" in all lowercase white font with his own pair of Starfleet shorts. "Hey! Did you bring a pair of pants with ya? Forgot to mention that." (edited)

Maggie smiled as she looked at the pants she wore right now. “I mean, I guess these ones? I could go back, but I don’t wanna wake Dion.” She said as she limped back a step. “Hmmm, you have a nice shirt!” She said with a smile.

Allan took a moment to think about that, putting all of these little clues together like a puzzle, and then chuckled. "Oh, I appreciate the compliment, but," he put a hand on his chin as he smirked, "what if we did?" He asked, ever so mischievous in his tone.

Maggie’s face grew redder then Mark Grayson getting slammed through a train by his dad. “Oh…..OH! I mean uh, if you want I suppose I uh….sorry I’m not used to get hit on by hot folks one after the other. It makes me feel good…”

Allan just laughed, shaking his head. "It's a good feeling, isn't it?" He walked over to her, putting an arm around her waist so she could, at the very least, use him for support - he didn't feel confident in his strength enough to carry her... yet. He walked them both back over to the doorway and peered out into the hall. "Which one's yours?"

Maggie blushed as she was wrapped around. “And you called me a slut.” She said with a small mumble. “I’m at the end of the hall, 3 down from the lift.” She said with a breath and a blush. “So, how about those shorts…?”

"Hey, hey. I called myself the starbase slut in doing so," he said defensively, sticking out his tongue just slightly in jest as he simply started walking them over to her quarters. Which would put them into #middle-section-ii-corridor , probably. "Oh, you'll get a pair of uniform pants and we can turn those into shorts after this, or as many as you'd like. They're very comfortable."

Maggie blinked as she looked at him and stepped into the room with a small questioning glance. “What’s this petition you are talking about?”

"The Starfleet Shorts petition! It's a campaign me and Allan organised to introduce a new uniform variant to Starfleet. It's shorts that are the same length as the skirt, for people who want a, well, shorter alternative to the trousers without necessarily having to wear the skirt," Dion said as he walked in." How many signatures was it so far, Allan?"

"Eighty-four!" Allan said proudly as he took the petition off his desk and handed Maggie a pen as well. "And thank you again for helping me write it, I would've never been able to do it on my own." He laughed, but it was true. He could never write such a fancy document himself.

Maggie blinked lightly then nodded as she sighed the thing, handing it back towards Allan. “Well I don’t see a problem with that! I think that would be great!” She then looked at the pants in her hands. “Speaking of!”

Allan nodded, taking the petition and the pants from the woman and placed the petition back on the desk. "Yep! It's a simple process," he said, setting the pants up in the machine and selecting a few things on its screen interface before pressing a button and watching as it snapped the pants legs off and they fell to the floor - he still really had to come up with something that fixed that. Maybe just move his bucket of pants legs under the machine. That would be easy.

Dion lounged on the nearest sofa or whatever. "And voila! Machine magic. All for shorts and shorts for all."

Allan looked at Eshen like the man was a genius. Because he was, mostly. "Oh, that's a great way to say it. I'm writing that down," he said as he did, at the top of the petition, and soon enough Maggie's shorts were done as well. "Annd here we go, you can go ahead and try them on if you'd like, any adjustments needed can also be done with this," he explained as he handed the shorts to Maggie.

Maggie giggled as she gave Allan a kiss on the cheek before going into the other room and changing into the shorts. She smiled as she walked back out and did a pose, it was very clearly an awkward pose. She was not the next top Gorn model. “How do I look in them? They feel fine around my booty, at least on my end?”

"Be a bit more confident, put some oomph into it, and you'll look spectacular, darling. Like this." Dion got back up and posed with one hand on his hip, one foot on the sofa, and with the other hand doing the Vulcan salute. Scandalous.

Allan looked her over, trying to determine what was going on here when- ah, yes. That was it. He smiled at Dion before looking back at Maggie, pointing at Dion. "That," he said, looking back and forth between them again, "it's the confidence that sells it. But as long as you're comfortable in them, that'll come along eventually anyways."

Maggie began to mimic Dion! Without the salute however, she still struck the pose, it wasn’t as good but better then what her last one was. “Is this better! I think it’s better?” She said with a slightly breath. “I know I feel uh, sexy….maybe!”

"Sexy enough for this." Dion marched over to Maggie, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her with confidence and oomph, a further demonstration of exactly how one becomes spectacular. Then he looked over to Allan and said, "Allan, not to giveth Maggie her shorts and then taketh said shorts away, but should we all borrow your room?" (edited)

"Maybe? Strike that word out of your vocabulary, you are sexy," Allan said, smiling as he watched Dion do typical Dion things. "Oh, but of course," he answered, walking over to the two of them and slipping one arm around Dion's waist, sort of leaning a little into him as he placed his other hand on Maggie's shoulder, looking into her eyes. "If, of course, that's alright with you."

Maggie blushed lightly as she felt the kiss on her lips, before responding with a quick kiss to Allan’s lips. Grabbing at his own waist with a small smile. “Oh that’s more then fine with me, you two stupid sexy himbos.” She said with a smile.

"Not a himbo, for future reference, but hell yeah, let's go!" Then he booked it into the other room, leaving someone else to write the concluding post, because I did that last time. (edited)

"Speaking of vocab, I don't even know what that means, but as long as it's accompanied by 'sexy', I'm okay with that," he said with a small laugh, kissing Maggie again before watching Eshen really just book it to his room, huh. "Well, someone's pretty excited. Best to not leave him waiting," he said, kissing Maggie again for good measure before taking her hand and also leading her into his room as well.

*Maggie nodded to Dion before slipping her shorts off and booking into the other room. Planting kisses on Allan’s face, before closing the door and FADING TO BLACK*

[D] A while after the previous events, like a day or so perhaps, Maggie and Allan had gathered in his quarters again to do something incredibly exciting: watching Sawyer Dewitt's livestream feed of the press conference. After entering in the codes and such to win the contest with their bots they had coded, they were both almost certain that at least one of them had a pretty good chance of winning, and thus splitting the grand prize. They really covered everything he already knew, too, and he was shocked that the press wasn't privy to know any of this. Section 31 was literally obviously involved, and to see his own hacking of the comms being mentioned? Crazy, but he didn't tell that to Maggie. That was still a top secret thing. But for some reason, what did come out of his mouth was... "Are they really not allowed to know that Section 31 was involved? Doesn't everyone on this station kinda know anyways at this point?" he asked, looking at Maggie, confused as the stream began to end.

Maggie smiled as she looked over her army of bots, letting out a giggle as she gamed the system to try and get that prize! She yawned as she lied on Allan’s bed in her undershirt and jeans. Hardly even paying attention to the conference until she heard the other man speak about Section 31. “I didn’t know that!” She jumped up lightly to look at the man. “I hardly even know what happened! I was in my lab, trying to make a Gorn’s finger move!”

"Wait, you didn't?" Allan asked, shutting the computer window after the stream had ended. Maybe time to change topics? "I mean, I knew Sawyer from back in the day, did you know? He actually broke the story on why I hacked Starfleet way back when. Cool guy, we still play FortCraft sometimes when we're both online," he explained, "although... what do you mean, trying to make a Gorn's finger move? Like on its own?"

Maggie blinked slightly as she looked towards the man. “No I didn’t know Section 31 was involved.” Maggie gasped as she looked to him. “FortCraft is so fun! I love it tons.” She said said with a smile and a shake of her head. “Yes, it’s for my personal project and I was trying to make the finger have any sort of reaction to external stimuli.”

"We should play some time," he said with genuine excitement in his voice, partly because he wanted to actually play games with this woman and partly because he was glad to have the topic shifted. "So you just... have a Gorn finger? I have so many more questions, not gonna lie, like - where do you even get something like that?"

Maggie smiled as she looked towards the man with a small giggle. “Yeah! I would love to play a more PG type of game.” She said with a smile. “I do just have one! I found it in on a nearby planet, I didn’t cut it off or anything I just found it in some grass, and now I’m studying it! To see if it has any…differences in biology from a normal Gorn!”

Allan smiled in disbelief at the other, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall to look at her. "So you really just have a Gorn finger you literally found in some grass... wow," he said, "can't imagine what would happen if you find out who it belongs to."

Maggie let out a small laugh as she moved to lean up on him with a tiny little smile. “It probably belongs to the skull I found? Very tempted to bring it to my lab but unfortunately a weird mouse alien with wings really wanted to nibble on the bone. I didn’t find it in me to disagree with him.” She said with a smile.

"You found a skull too!? Where do you just find body parts like that around?" He was also smiling, but part of him was only slightly terrified that this woman was finding skulls and fingers somewhere, but the other part of him really enjoyed seeing how passionate Maggie seemed about what she was talking about. "You talk about finding body parts like I talk about finding scrap metal," he said, gently running his fingers through her hair as she leaned on him, "is that what you normally do?"

“On a planet not far from here! About uh, 3 lightyears away from a wormhole I’m trying to study and I’m looking at how it effects natural things in the universe!” She said as she lightly tapped on the table nearby. “Maybe one day we can make something out of it! Like a Mecha Zombie Dragon! Mecha Zomzilla!” She said with a smile.

"You're looking at wormholes, huh," Allan looked at the ceiling, thinking about how crazy it was that wormholes even existed, then back down at Maggie. "A what!? I swear, everything coming out of your mouth is more crazy than before." He said with a smile. He did think about the possibility of a Mecha Zomzilla though. "It does sound cool though. I wonder if they have a movie about it, you know, one time I went to a bar run by Gorn, they had a movie playing with some sort of crazy plot. Maybe it was something like that."

Maggie laughed as she sat next to Allan and rested her head on his shoulder. “Ooooh? That sounds like my kind of wacky movie! I’m sure you’d be the one to make the stupid weapon to take down the monster.” She giggled as she looked up at him with a small huff, crossing het arms over her chest. “I am HoleLover69, so of course I have to be looking at wormholes.”

Allan chuckled and shrugged. "Proobably," he said with a smile, "Although, I need to work on weapons building a bit more before I can do something like that." Once she explained her username, he eyes went wide as he finally understood the name. "Ohhhh, that... you know, that makes more sense than I thought it would. By the way, do you mind if I braided your hair?" He asked, since he was still sort of just running his fingers through her hair he might as well do something.

Maggie giggled as she turned around to allow him to braid. “Go right ahead, I would love for you to braid my hair.” She said with a small smile. “Yeah! It’s about wormholes not the other type! They are my passion after all.”

"Yeah, and mine is the other... wait. Have you ever been in a wormhole? Or just studied them?" He asked, starting to braid her hair in a simple crown braid.

Maggie smiled as she sat there with her legs crossed. Lightly letting out a simple laugh. “I’ve been near wormholes but never in one. I just study them a whole lot, but that’s probably going to change soon.” She said with a laugh. She also slapped his knee. “I heard the other comment.”

Allan laughed, "Well, it wasn't wrong, I- wait, wait." He let go of her hair for a moment. "Are we ... about to go through a wormhole?? Or just you?" He asked, slowly picking her hair back up again and continuing to braid. "I mean, they'd tell us if it was all of us, right?" He definitely didn't pay much attention in whatever class on wormholes there was at the Academy, either.

Maggie laughed slightly before shaking her hands in the air instead of her head because it was being braided. “Not that I know of, I certainly haven’t gotten approval to go into said wormhole.” She said with a smile. “Besides, I’m sure we all have more important things to do.”

"Ohh, you really got me thinking we would when you said soon it would change, I..." he thought about it for a moment as he finished up her braids, "I don't know if the whole base is quite ready to go through a wormhole, yeah. But you're trying to get approval to go in it?"

Maggie laughed slightly as she felt the braids be wrapped up and smiled. “I might, it’s my goal to uh…..well I don’t know if I really want to go in but I might like, take a shuttle or something to find what I’m looking for.” She said with a hum. “You are good with these braids.”

"Like, send an intelligence drone in or something?" He asked, genuinely curious about how she planned to go in a wormhole at this point. "Depends what you're looking for, I guess.." "Oh, the braids? That's.. I guess that comes with years of experience, really. Probably from when I was a kid, honestly," he said with a smile, his mom would always let him braid her hair when he was younger.

Maggie gasped lightly. “Oh a drone is a great idea! I really only need uh, proof of something so yes yes! A drone could do great!” She took a breath lightly as she looked up towards the man. “Mhm, I get that. My family was never much for braids, so we mainly just had a chill time with each other’s hair. My aunt has her hair braided now though!”

Allan laughed. "Yeah, it's a lot safer than sending yourself in there, that's for sure." "Yeah, my mom was all about that because her hair was so long, she usually braided it to keep it out of her face. Plus, we always had these flowers we'd put in it too." He thought about the flowers, and how some of them reminded him strangely enough of that new restaurant, Surak Snacks. He would have to go back there eventually. "Which reminds me, I do have to get flowers for this room sometime. Spice it up some."

Maggie laughed as she moved to sit on his lap with a cute little grin, wrapping her arms around him in a hug as she rested against her shoulder. “Mhm, idea noted Allan. Thank you.” “Ooooh, flowers in my hair sounds really fun! I might just have to do that, and this room would look great with like, blue flowers everywhere! It would be very cute! And your mom sounds like a lovely lady, I always like hearing about moms since my mom…uh died.”

Allan gave her a hug back, wrapping his arms around her waist and keeping her close. "Blue personally isn't my favorite color for flowers, but... does it happen to be yours?" he asked, he could definitely imagine some blue flowers in her hair would look really great.

Maggie let out a small laugh ad she was held close into Allan’s body, rubbing her head against his shoulder before responding. “Hmmmm, I think mine is pink! But I like blue as well. Matches the science.”

"Pink is good! Pink and blue together work together really well, like a sort of cotton candy," he said, "mine is obviously red, if you couldn't tell," he almost subconsciously ran a hand through his hair, as if he had to do that when mentioning it somehow so indirectly. (edited)

Maggie laughed slightly as she looked into him. “I can tell it’s red, and I really like your hair. Reminds me of my own sliver locks given how unique they are, and now I sorta want cotton candy…”

"You don't even have to dye it, though," Allan said, or maybe she did. He honestly had no idea, but he assumed she didn't until proven otherwise. "Is there a place here that has cotton candy, or would you just have to replicate it? I don't think Men would really be convinced to start selling cotton candy in his totally upscale establishment."

Maggie laughed as she looked at him. “I don’t dye it. Someone in my family line messed with the genetics, and boom here I am. Everyone born in my family after a certain point gets these lovely silver locks.” She said with a chuckle. “I don’t know, I just normally replicate it but you never know.” She said with a soft hum. “I kinda do want it.”

"Wow. They're lucky, it's absolutely beautiful," he said, smiling as he looked across the room to the door. "Speaking of luck, luckily we all have replicators, yeah?" He could replicate some cotton candy right now if she wanted.

Maggie gave a small smile as she looked up at him with a small cross of her arms. “You have great hair as well, it’s so red.” She hopped off his lap with a smile. “Go my steed! Bring me the snacks!”

Allan laughed, getting up and heading towards the door. "Just normal cotton candy? That all?" He asked, hand on his hip in a very not fruity at all pose.

Maggie let out a small giggle as she looked at the pose. “How do you pose so good? And yes just some normal cotton candy please!”

He tilted his head as he opened the door and sort of stood halfway through it. "Pose? Nah, that's just me," he said, before getting her some cotton candy and bringing it back, and then they had a very lovely time eating cotton candy and talking about whatever crazy things you talk about while eating cotton candy until one of them inevitably had to go to work.

[PADD]

Hey, you wanna come over for a Vulcan Curry and some Bloodwine? I made too much and I like feeding people. Also, I have great news!

[PADD]

Absofuckinlutely! Where at?

[PADD]

My quarters! I feel like I've already become thoroughly familiar with yours. - Eshen

[PADD]

Sure thing! See ya soon - Allan

[D] A message appeared on Allan's PADD.

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Fleet Admiral Xaav'ax Aisut Subject: Meeting Ensign, Please meet me in the conference room on the Operations Ring at your earliest convenience. - Fleet Admiral Xaav'ax Aisut, Head of Security, Starfleet

[PADD]

To: Fleet Admiral Xaav'ax Aisut From: Ensign Allan Allen Subject: Re:Meeting Admiral, Will be in there in about 5 minutes. - Ensign Allan Allen

(edited)

16:44

[D] Internally, Allan was lowkey freaking out. This was the guy from the press conference, right? Furthermore, he had already thrown in his uniform jacket with the rest of his dirty clothes and was wearing just his shorts, some converse shoes and a black mesh tank crop top. But... he was off-duty! So this was fine. It would all be fine, so he headed out of his quarters, taking his little suitcase he'd pack for shore leave with him. He'd just leave after the meeting, he supposed.

[D]A message appeared on one of the quarters' consoles for Allan.

Ensign Allen, Apologies for bothering you, and I hope I won't disturb your regular work with this request. Could you possibly contact me when you have a moment? I'd like to enlist you to assist with something. Best, Lt. JG. Jericho Giles 777 Security / Intelligence Cryptocommunications.

Hit’s the door chime on Allan’s quarters door. “It’s Ensign Blanco”. he announced himself.

The red-headed engineer answered the door a little too quickly, maybe. Dressed in - who would've guessed this - Starfleet shorts and a simple black graphic t-shirt (it had a cool octopus on it, to be precise), Allan gestured for the new ensign to come in. "Hey! So, tell me about the idea, because I'm pretty sure - wait, wait, sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm Allan. Obviously. Engineer," he said, "maybe not as obviously?"

He held out his hand in greeting “Manolo, also an engineer. I just got here about 2 hours ago”.

"Holy shit. You serious? Just 2 hours and you've already A, known I make shorts and B, suggested to make something to supplement them? Dude, I can already tell we're going to get along. Welcome to the team," he said with a smile, moving to give the other a fist bump in greeting in his own little way. "Can't wait till you meet the boss, too. Great guy, Alizati. Him and his little criatura." (edited)

Manolo raised his eyebrow “A criatura, huh? Can’t wait”. Manolo walked in Allan’s quarters, giving it a quick survey before turning his attention back to his host “But yeah, the idea actually comes from where I grew up. Alot of brush and cactus, around. It was a pain to get all that cardo on my legs when I wore shorts”.

In Allan's quarters some things Manolo would see were boxes of spare mechanical parts, a box of what looked to be discarded fabric, a red bass guitar and a black-and-red surfboard leaning together against the wall, and a desk fan that was displaying nearly holographic light designs as it blew cool air across the room. "Oh, yeah. Monstrous fucking thing," Allan said, listening as the new guy spoke about brush and cactus and- wait, this guy spoke Spanish too? This was like, the second person in a row he'd met on this station that also spoke Spanish! And this guy's accent sounded a lot more similar to his own, it seemed. "Wait, you speak Spanish too? There were cactus where I grew up, too, but not as much of the brush," he spoke in Spanish, and if Manolo responded in Spanish they probably just spoke that way for the rest of the time.

Manolo nodded “Si, soy de Mexico” He replied in Spanish “Durango…Where are you from?” he asked, his interest piqued at Allan’s use of Spanish

"Puerto Rico," Allan said as he took out the Starfleet Shorts Machine, "specifically San Juan, Cabo Rojo too for a while, and then also lived in Boston for a bit but that's obviously not where I learned to speak Spanish," he laughed, it was good to be able to not think about the language he was speaking. Not that he had to do that too much in Standard either at this point, but it was just good to talk in his native language from time to time. Brought back a semblance of home that he liked having. "So, this is the shorts machine. Basically just cuts Starfleet pants into Starfleet shorts and hems the edges to be nice and pretty. As you can see," he gestured to his own shorts on his legs.

Manolo bent down to look at the machine…a practical design, to the point “I like it. Was this something that you decided to do yourself or was there some sort of demand for it?”

"Well, one of my friends helped me with the sewing part - he transferred out a while ago, but I kind of just... thought if we have the Starfleet Skirts, why not shorts? In my opinion they're the same length, and a bit more practical, too, you know?" He looked back at the machine. "Plus, they're very popular, of course."

Manolo nodded. He was definitely going to ask for a pair of these. “ Yeah, my thought was that there was probably some sort of need for a protective covering. Whether it be for some physical, chemical, or environmental reason. But without taking away from the purpose of the shorts. Chaps, or something similar would be the most logical choice” *he looked back over to Allan. “What say you?”

Allan grinned, starting up the machine and thinking for a moment. "Oh, yeah. I love the way you think," he nodded. "Same material, or do we want to go with something a little different? A leather perhaps?"

Manolo nodded Yeah, some sort of treated leather…Puncture proof, chem proof.” He stroked his chin “Targ leather would be perfect, in my opinion”.

"You're absolutely on to something there," Allan said, sitting down in his desk chair with his legs crossed. "Happen to know a guy who might be a fan of that, although I actually don't know how good replicated Targ leather is compared to the real thing. Do you?"

Manolo half chuckled “It doesn’t smell as bad, that’s for sure” he quipped “I mean, replicators tend to get most of the chemical compositions right. If not. I’m sure there are labs here that do destructive testing, right?”

Allan laughed. "Hold up, it smells bad? Like, actually?" He asked, and then his eyes lit up at the idea of there being some sort of destructive testing lab. "Oh, there's got to be. Only guys I know in tactical though are on another base..."

Manolo nodded “Ay dios mio, man. If you don’t clean it smells horrible”. Glanced back down at the machine “Is this set up solely to do shorts? Or can it be reconfigured to do other things as well?”

Allan blinked. "Why would you not clean it...?" He asked, before looking back at the machine. "Well, currently, yes. But I've configured it to do different lengths, spell 'Starfleet' on the ass, et cetera... so it definitely could do other things. Would just have to do some programming to have it cut more specific shapes, and give it a little exacto knife arm or something?"

Manolo shrugged “It’s not about not cleaning it. Sometimes, when you go on vacation or one of those long cadet field assignments, it just sits there for a while with no one to clean it”. He looked down at the machine for a moment, then back up at Allan “How about this, I’ll work on replicating some targ leather and securing some destructive testing space. You work on the configuration of your machine and we’ll catch back up in a few days?”

"Ahh, is that how it works? Interesting," Allan said as he went through into the programming of the machine, bringing the code up on his PADD. "Sounds like a plan to me, friend. I'll get enough space cut out on the machine so it'll fit just right on anyone, even the Captain himself," as if the Captain would ever wear assless chaps when he was an assless chap himself, but hey. One could be hopeful.

On-duty secrets? Sign Allan the fuck up. He put on his uniform, shorts of course, and actually put the leather jacket he'd worn during the canoe ride over it. Sort of like Mo had done. It was less of a look with the yellow than the red, but still a good look nonetheless. Out to #middle-section-ii-corridor he went.

With a sizeable cake box under her arm Niatha chimed the doorbell to Konnie's quarters. She didn't quite seem herself today; a bit more sullen definitely, less spirited.

Conny was spending her free time as she often was, watching a less than good holomovie and eating something sweet. Said sweet thing happened to be a vegan yogurt today, for no other reason than that it had been the first best thing she had thought of. When the doorbell chimed she paused her current activity and went over to open the door. "Oh hi Nia." There was a bright smile on her face that slowly vanished when she saw the other's expression. "Come in?" She stepped back to maje place for Niatha to enter. "Do you wanna watch a movie with me or do you wanna talk?"

"Why don't we do both." Niatha smiled wanly and settled on the sofa, placing the cake box on the small coffee table. "I've not had a good week. Not with that disease running around."

Conny nodded and sat down again, gesturing for Niatha to sit down next to her. She pulled her knees towards her chest, hugged her legs and then started the movie again. Then she turned the volume down and turned toward Niatha. "It was a bit of an odd one wasn't it? What happened?"

"I..." Niatha curled into a little ball on the couch, kind of, tucking her scaly legs in to her chest and hugging herself in a sense, nose between her knees. "...said stuff I didn't mean. Er, I mean, I meant. But I also didn't. Urgh." She exhaled heavily. "I hate it so much. I lost a few friends over the week. Fought with a few of them too."

"That's stupid." Conny furrowed her brow, before quickly trying to explain herself. "Well you're not stupid and it's not stupid how you feel, but this situation is bullshit." A little unsure what to do Conny eventually moved closer towards and placeed one of her arms over Niatha's shoulder. "Do you want me to scream at any of them for you?" ,she asked only half joking.

"Whomever you like." She murmured, forcing a smile onto her lips. "I... really don't know, Konny sweetie. Anyway.' She gestured to the cake box that sat on the coffee table. "The cake you asked for. I tried my best."

"Oh thank you. You really didn't have to I'd have totally understood it if you'd've said you were preoccupied or just didn't feel like baking." Conny smiled brightly and inspected the cake. "I'm afraid I ended up eating a lot of the berries you gave me, but I did end up making a jam with the ones I didn't eat. We could totally eat cake with jam and whipped cream if you want to." She stood up to get plates.

"Did you say jam and whipped cream?" Niatha's grin instantly reappeared. The Cardassian sat up while she crossed her arms and settled back into the sofa with a slightly more cheery-sounding hiss. "I would love jam and whipped cream, sweety..."

"Yeah I did," Conny said, grinning as well. She carefully placed the whipped cream and her jam (that she was unapologetically proud of) next to Niatha's cake, before handing her a plate with a little fork. After letting herself fall back on the sofa, Conny put a generous amount of everything on her plate and then proceeded to try the cake. "Oh I like it, thank you for the cake Nia. Should I tell you what has happened in the movie till now or do you want to start a new one or do something else?" (edited)

"I'll go with whatever you like." Niatha remarked through a mouthful of cake and cream and sweet, fruity jam. "This cream is simply delightful, by the way. Kudos to the one who taught you to make it, you've certainly done it justice." The Cardassian giggled.

"Alright how about we just start it again." She shrugged and began to rewind the movie. "I'll tell my grandma when I call her the next time, I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear that." She sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck and then pressed play starting the movie again.

Niatha smiled. "I'm sure she would be. What movie is this, anyway?"

"I actually have no idea it's kitschig (kitschy) af though, the love story is badly done in the most delightful way possible, so try nit to take it too seriously." She let herself sink further into the sofa grinned and pointed at one of the characters. "I mean look at that hair"

"Remind me which era of Earth this is from?" Nia joked. "God. That hair looks like it's from the 19th century or something, just look at that..."

"It definitely looks like that's what it's trying to be, yeah." Conny giggled and almost chocked on a piece of cake which only made her giggle more. "They messed up though, I'm fairly certain they didn't have phones like that in the 19th century."

"I don't know about you humans and your movies." Nia remarked. "I lived in London for a while, you know, when I was a teenager while my mothers were at work on Earth. Even after three years on Earth I can't fathom why your people do some of the things you do."

She smiled, quickly swallowing some cake so she had her mouth free to speak. "I doubt we really know that ourselves half the time. I've never been to London, what was it like?*

"Cold." She remarked. "But quite nice, actually! I quite liked it." Niatha sat up, placing her plate of cake in her lap. "Though I did have to wear a winter coat in places."

Conny wrinkled her nose a little and one could practically hear the figurative cogs inside her head turning. After a while a light appeared in her eyes and she smiled. "Did you ever get snow? I remember when I saw it for the first time."

"Oh, yeah. I don't much like snow. Too cold." She complained - before giggling to herself and shaking her head. "Well, duh, of course snow is cold. What am I saying?"

"Yeah it's cold. I refused to go inside for three hours when I saw it the first time. Caught myself a nasty cold." She grinned thinking back to her grandmothers reaction when she had complained about an aching throat the next day. "It's funny that the snow can actually protect plants when it gets too cold for them."

"Oh, yeah. Keeps them warm. Ever been inside an igloo?" She asked.

"Not a proper one, just the kind that you build with a bunch of friends in someone's backyard. The kind that collapses at least three times while being built and slowly vanishes in the spring, you know?" She shrugged, but smiled fondly at the memory. "I only moved to Terra when I began going to school."

"Oh, I know that kind. I was sixteen and the only reptilian in a class of humanoids and the most popular girl in the class when I built my first one..." Niatha recalled. "Er. Never mind the last bit. Good times, hm?"

"Yeah. We're not likely to get snow anytime soon here, altho I suppose I shouldn't jinx it." Conny snorted and got up to dispose of her (now empty) plate. She didn't pause the movie, having successfully forgotten about it. "Imagine the absolute mess we'd be in if the station got cold enough for there to be snow."

"I'd never leave my quarters. Or wrap up with, dunno, ten layers or something before leaving." Niatha remarked with a giggle. She too stood to dispose of her plate, shoving it into the replicator behind Konnie's. "I don't wanna freeze to death. Or hibernate. Or whatever my people do when we get too cold..."

"Yeah we'd have to hope that the replicators are good at making winter clothes and that the problem gets fixed quickly." Conny began putting away the other things still left on the table. "We should totally do this again some time, so if you got time and you feel like it feel free to come here, maybe I'll make cake next time, yeah?"

"I'd love to sample your cake." Nia smiled. "I can come whenever - just give me a call and I'll come over, hm?"

Conny mentally went through the cakes she knew how to bake, trying to decide on one. "Sure thing, altho I have to ask are you allergic to any food stuffs? Just to make sure you know, don't wanna acitentally poison you." She grinned and sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck.

"None to speak of! Promise." Nia smirked. "I'll try most things once, so don't worry about that department either, m'kay.'

"Alright, I'll believe you, I'll need to see if I can get my hands on poppy seeds and if there's some sort of restriction regarding them here..." Those two were clearly stated as seperate things, implying that she might be able to get her hands on them even if there was a regulation in place. A thoughtful expression crossed Conny's face before she returned to her default smile and extended her arm in an invitation for a hug. "See you then, yeah?"

Konnie was instantly tackled, well, might as well have been anyway, in a hug, with Nia's scaly head buried in her chest. "Seeya!' She mumured before turning and heading for the door.

Conny returned the hug and waved after Nia when she left. "Servus bye."

Ensign Allen, I believe you will be happy to know that our ping returned highly accurate results. I am now in the process of triangulation based on our results combined with that of the others, and I estimate that we are going to have three locations in total. Intelligence is making progress in this project, and that is down to you. Again, I cannot thank you enough for your assistance. If there is anything that I can ever help you with in turn, then please do not hesitate to contact me. Best, Lt. JG. Jericho Giles.

Lt. JG. Jericho Giles, Yoo, that's

! You totally got this and thanks, don't hesitate the other way round as well! Best, Allan

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo

If you're free, please meet me as soon as possible in either my office or the lakes for good news. - Station Commander Mephistopheles Mo

To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo From: Allan

Sure !! Lakes it is, cause offices are like, boring party places. Assuming the good news is party-worthy. Most good news is. - Allan

To:

From:

Meet me there in 20. - Station Commander Mephistopheles Mo

Aha! So it must have been about the shorts, Allan concluded with the few brain cells he had in operation today as he sent a simple thumbs up emoji in response to the Captain and headed out the door of his quarters in said Starfleet shorts.

[D] After definitely going to the lake 15 minutes early because he was sooo excited to hear Mo tell him the shorts were approved, Allan realized it was closed for maintenance and sent a message. To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo From: Ensign Allan Allen

OK turns out the lake is closed for 'maintenance'. Any other ideas? - Allan

To: Ensign Allan Allen From: Captain Mephistopheles Mo

I suppose if you dislike the idea of meeting in an office because it's not 'party worthy', we could meet in my quarters instead. I built the arcade machine. (That's not the good news.) Not that my quarters are particularly party-worthy, but my cat needs the attention. - Station Commander Mephistopheles Mo

To: Captain Mephistopheles Mo From: Ensign Allan Allen

Any room with both an arcade machine and a cat is 'party-worthy'. I'll be there. - Allan