Star Trek: Starbase 777 - stn-cdr-mo﹢aceo-allen

Mo sipped his Slug-o-Cola, put it on the coffee table for now, then stood up, walking towards the enclosure and opening the door (no key needed; who was gonna steal a bunch of isopods?) "I believe you." And he did. Saren so far had shown himself to be a cautious person who valued the lives of others, including little guys like this. "They don't have ranks or divisions. As much as I love 'em, hell if I can tell 'em apart." He let one crawl onto his hand and held it out to Saren. "The only two divisions they'd have are Munchin' and Scuttlin', anyway. Not exactly Starfleet material."

Believes him? Oh. Oh. He lifted his hand and, after giving it a couple of seconds of thought, pressed the side of his palm against Mo's - something he would've never even fathomed to do just half a year ago. Patiently Saren waited until the little creature scuttled over the makeshift bridge, feeling it's pale little legs tap against his skin. He then cautiously brought his hand back, letting out an amused sort of sound: "Oh! I see where the name comes from," the similarity to a squishy rubber duck was almost uncanny. "They may not be Starfleet material, sir, but they would do great in Duckfleet. Blobfleet?.." Fascinating little creature. Zero thoughts in that little, duck-like head. He wondered, was the isopod even aware of the fact that it was walking on someone alive? Probably not. Too busy munching and scuttling. "Earth's fauna keeps on fascinating me," a subdued way of saying "holy shit, what a cool bug". "It's diversity was one of the things that solidified my decision to pursue xenobiology. Have to say, I'm glad I chose this."

As a subdued sort of person, he picked up on Saren's enthusiasm. It was indeed a cool bug. "The bathtub navy, as opposed to the space navy. Goin' where no isopod has gone before: the water. Don't actually put 'em in the water, though, they can't swim, unlike their marine cousins. You should look up marine isopods; I think you'll enjoy the experience." He held out a hand to take the bug back. "Give it 'ere so I can put it back in before the others escape." The door was still open, but the isopods were still in their enclosure, lacking the curiosity or awareness to follow any path to freedom. "I have to attend to some things soon, but you can stop by if you ever want to see 'em again." That was it. Two people with permission to visit him (the other being Allan). His boundaries were opening. In a matter of months he would be throwing raves in his quarters! Ha, yeah, no. He put his hand back into the enclosure so the isopod could crawl back in and then shut the glass door. "I'm glad you chose to work as a xenobiologist, and especially that you chose to work 'ere. Never lose that curiosity; I admire it." Science was all about curiosity, really. It was a compelling and dangerous virtue.

Spoiler alert: he will. So much, in fact, that it may spark another Jurassic Park-esque holodeck idea. "I will look that up, sir," and just as carefully as he did before, Saren transported the isopod onto Mo's hand, and watched it being carried back to the enclosure. He then slowly stood up, ready to take his leave, and... wait, was he just granted the Bug Visitor privileges? Oh, fuck yeah! The Romulan's face stayed carefully neutral - only the eye squint and the subtle twitch of the corners of his mouth betraying his delight at the news, at... at everything that just happened, really. The compulsive need to press his fingers against the new pip was ignored - for now - but Saren's senses were almost hyperfocused on that tiny little piece of metal on his collar. Junior Lieutenant, huh... He sucked in a breath - for fuck's sake, people should warn him before saying nice things, for the words went straight to his soul - and then lowered his head, giving Mo an almost sly sort of look. "With utmost professionalism... permission for a celebratory hug, Captain?" Because the Romulan, who almost always knew and had something to say, felt that in this situation, the words "holy hell thank you" wouldn't be enough.

"Of course. With utmost professionalism. Get down here." And hopefully Saren bent down or got on one knee so Mo could wrap his arms around his shoulders and not his chest, because that felt too much like he was getting a hug than giving one and somehow that would feel more intimate than it was already, even though he very much would like to be held in such a way by someone, someday; just not today. Mo was bony and a bit cold, but he hoped Saren appreciated the hug nonetheless. Together, they were a tangle of pointy limbs. Eventually, they pulled away. "Great Continuum, you know I started this posting intending to be strict and professional and keep my distance from the crew? I'm gettin' soft, I swear." Perhaps it was better this way, though. It felt a little more natural. "Alright, get goin', I've got other paperwork to do." It sounded very dismissive, like he was telling Saren to bugger off, but his tone was light.

He let out a quiet laugh - light, warm - and then indeed, lowered himself down on one knee, giving the human a rare chance to see the top of his head. The Romulan was warm, his vulcanoid bodyheat easily compensating for Mo; for him, the Captain was as light as a couple of grapes, body almost... too frail. Maybe that's why the hug was so gentle? Though, Saren was always careful around humans - mindful of his dense bones and lean body's strength. Also, Mo was comfortable as hell. With bonyness and cold and all. "A task I failed myself, sir," he replied, hiding a smile in the turn of his head. Mo could hear it clear as day, though. "I am glad that you're like this, though. That you're approachable, that you're kind. And I am confident that the majority of this station would agree with me." His gaze was fixed upon Mo when he spoke, to show that he meant it. Every word. Saren then nodded, getting ready to leave, but the word "paperwork" suddenly reminded him of something he lately was pondering on... "Oh... one last question, sir. A refresher, really. If I want to, say... change my surname in my personal file," even though he didn't have a surname, it was a House name. But, hey, almost the same thing? "I should just request it, right? I... may want to try and use both - the one from my mother's side, and from my father's side." There was... almost something hopeful in his voice. Because he was tired of hiding. Because he was tired of lying - to everyone, and to himself. And this was his first little step towards being comfortable with his legacy.

Well, now Mo was the one thinking people should warn him before saying nice things! Funnily enough, approachable stuck out rather than kind. He tried to be kind as much as was practical, but being approachable was... Well, he didn't have a friendly face so he hoped that having a (subtly) friendly attitude would offset it, and he supposed it was working if he'd just hugged a Romulan. He scratched the back of his neck bashfully. "Ah, I dunno about the rest of the station, but... Thanks, I try. And yeah, you can just request it. If y'dont know to who, I can give you a net address." Or whatever the call space emails. As he spoke, a meow could be heard from his bedroom. "Ah, she wants something. Probably food. I'll see you another time, okay? You're dismissed." And so was he, from this room, into the other one to give Bandit her dinner.

[D]Discord ping noise.

TO: Captain Mephistopheles Mo FROM: Captain Logan Clarke I know this is several months late, but I was wondering if you would take up the offer of coffee at Gliqqigug's; I've finally managed to find myself some free time. -Logan

[D] Mo went into his settings and disabled the annoying ping noise.

TO: Captain Logan Clarke FROM: Captain Mephistopheles Mo It's okay, I know the job can be demanding. I am available at 1900 hours if you are. - Mo

[D] The ping remained, somehow even louder than before.

TO: Captain Mephistopheles Mo FROM: Captain Logan Clarke Perfect! I'll see you there. -Logan

[D] After inviting Allan over as he did every Tuesday to help code of their project currently titled Bouncy Blue Fast Isopod Game, they'd finished the first build of the first level and the arcade machine was lit up and playing the the Jade Plains Zone, an easy starting area where the isopod could speedily roll through and bounce off enemies to learn the basics of the mechanics before they got more complicated later on. He'd just died to a glitch and was currently taking notes on his PADD to iron that out in the future, although... "I may've died, but, y'know, I can see a speedrunner exploiting that one in the future to shave a good chunk o' seconds off their run."

"Probably." Allan chuckled. Sawyer would definitely be one to exploit it on a speedrun if he ever played this game, which he probably would if Allan asked him to. "I bet we could actually tie it in somehow, maybe. Have there be a few hidden pits of thorns or something?" He was just speculating ideas at this point, because now they had the basic code laid out for the level they could get to More Ideas. "I gotta say though, Cap'n, this shit runs sooo smoothly on the machine, I love it. Feels so old-school." He looked over at him and smiled, glancing at the notes the Captain took on his PADD. "Oh, speaking of old-school, does you dying first mean you have to have black hair now, or is that not really how it works?"

"Hmmm, maybe." Mo wrote down something about pits and thorns for later. "N' thanks, that's what happens when a piece of software is perfectly matched for a piece of software, I guess. Hopefully people will be able to run it on emulators just fine, though." He put the PADD under his arm. "I, uh... I don't think that bet still applies, but I was thinkin' about tryin' black. I mean, it looked good on you... Though I worry I'll look even more pale than I already do." He definitely would, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

"Oh, definitely. Should be no problem, you could even run this on a PADD if you wanted to. I know it can be run on PC at least, since that's what I coded it on when I would work on it." The arcade machine would always be the best experience, but it was good people could enjoy the game on other devices because not everyone had an arcade machine lying around or a holodeck to spawn one up in. "Okay, okay, so like - I mean, that's not necessarily a bad thing," he was thinking the same, it seemed, "I think it'd be a pretty good look on you. Genuinely. Although, it might be a bit unfestive during the season, but then you could put like, some red and green highlights or some shit, get real festive with it, why not?"

It would be a 'good look on him'? Well, now he was definitely encouraged to do it. "Highlights? Hmmm... No, I think that's a bit wild for me. I don't wanna look like a Christmas tree." He paused. "I've never actually, uh, dyed my hair before, so... How d'you do it?" That's right - his unnatural shade of red hair was actually natural. His betazoid-black eyes were also natural. Maybe he had some alien in his genes? Starfleet had his DNA on file, and he had looked at it, but only he and the doctors knew what it said.

"Fair enough! But-" He turned to look down at Mo and in particular, his hair when the other mentioned he'd never dyed his hair. "Really? I'm... huh," he had no idea humans could just naturally have that shade of red hair -and- black eyes, but it was probably best not to ask. Might be kinda rude. "Well, it's actually a lot easier than it was in any other decade. You kind of just get a little device, it's kinda like a flatiron but it comes in different sizes and stuff, and it uses some cool nanopatterning shit to change the color. You still have to go back and apply some of it manually to the roots buuut it's so much better than having to apply all of it manually - at least none of it has toxic chemicals anymore, though." And then he stopped talking because he felt like if he kept going, he'd keep going for way too long. Especially if he got to how he wanted to re-engineer the technology one day to just make like, a hat that you put on your head and it dyes it that way. Would be a lot easier for everyone, especially people who struggled with keeping their arms upright for a long time though.

"I see. Do you have one of these... Devices? Or maybe I can replicate one? I was thinkin' about doin' it before the ball. Not that I'm gonna attend, mind." At most he'd be there for a few minutes to shake some hands or something, then he'd go back to his room, play tetris for a bit, then get some work done. Hashtag introvert life. "Would you, uh... If it's not too much trouble, show me how to use it?"

"Oh, yeah, I've got one! It's been programmed to the same shade of red for yeaaars, but you can set multiple things onto there, wouldn't be too much trouble to make it black. How black you want it?" He looked at the Captain, trying to envision just how jet-black his hair would be and how that would look. "I mean, you could also replicate one, sure, but - oh, you won't be there? C'mon, though, think about how kick-ass one of those old gothic suits would look on ya with your hair like that." He looked him up and down, Respectfully, then looked over at wherever the coffee machine was. Was that put all together now? "But yeah, I'd be down to teach ya."

"Uhhh... Blackest possible black?" If he was gonna be goth, he was gonna be goth. No very dark brown nonsense, he wanted no hues in his hair whatsoever. When Allan looked him up and down, his cheeks went a little red and he looked away. "I dunno, I mean - the thing you do at parties is dancin' and eatin' and I don't really wanna do either of those. I would just stand there drinkin' a coffee hopin' my presence isn't makin' people feel like they have to act super professional or something." The coffee machine was definitely put together by now, though he'd only used it once or twice. "Can I use yours or do you want me to replicate one? The latter is quicker."

"Beeeeet, let's fucking go," said like 'bet' not 'beet' obviously, "sure can do that. Absolute fucking void black, hell yeah, we can do that." He walked over to the coffee machine, actually, then, giving it a look over. It was so neat to see one of these in person again, last time he'd seen one was back at home in an old coffee shop. "Y'know, half of parties is just standing around, actually, but talking to people. I get if that's not your thing, though," he smiled, and then opened the compartment of the coffee machine where one put the beans into it. "This is... really cool," he then realized he hadn't answered Mo's question, "oh! Yeah, you can use mine, but if it's quicker it's best to replicate one, yeah."

Mo just went over to the replicator and made the device Allan was talking about, after asking Allan for the specifications and such like the colour: Anish Kapoor black. He returned with the faux flatiron. "Thanks, I finished it, but all I've made is black coffee, honestly. I've never been all that picky, between all the types. You can make yourself one, if you want." He looked down at the strange device. He knew theoretically how it worked, but somehow he was hesitant to get started. He could face down a ship full of Borg and manage a whole station but apparently using a flatiron was beyond him. "Do I do it or do you do it?"

"For real?" Spelled out for everyone's sake, but more said like 'f'real'. "Is that how you like it, just black?" Black coffee, black hair? Was that the vibe here? He was also Taking Notes because it was always good to know other peoples' coffee preferences. "I can do it if you want," At least it wasn't actually hot on the edges like super vintage flatirons were, so you could just touch your ear with it and be okay. Apparently, that was a terrible thing back in the earlier centuries. "It's whatever, really. I don't mind," he said, currently logging into his own account on the replicator or however that worked.

"'Course it is. I'm, like... Goth, or whatever." And a bit punk sometimes, if his growing collection of cool leather jackets meant anything. He handed the faux flatiron to Allan, not really sure why Allan was logging into the replicator. "Can't really tell the difference between all the different types anyway, like all the different beans and stuff, I just made this because..." He had nothing better to do with his time. "...I felt like it. You just press buttons on the machine according to your preferences... Like, milk or not, how much sugar, how many shots of coffee or whatever, and there's a menu of presets. Y'know, retro style." (edited)

"Heh. 'Goth or whatever' is what I'd call your vibe, then," he said, taking the flatiron in one hand while bringing up a certain recipe on the replicator with the other. Soon enough, there was a bag of coffee beans freshly replicated, and Allan logged right back out of his account- or at least switched it back to Mo's. "Oh, man, the different beans are like, half the story when it comes to coffee. Like these," he held up the hand holding the bag of coffee beans and they made a satisfying little sound as they shook around in the bag, "are the fucking best, in my opinion. I kinda just put a bunch of the beans they grow in Puerto Rico into the replicator one day and had it copy that." He put the beans into the coffee maker however one did that and started the machine. No milk, no sugar, just black. "It's a good machine, that's for sure. Also a good machine is this, though," he tapped the flatiron into his other hand and went a bit closer to Mo. "So, if you'd want me to do this, you don't have to sit down, but it would probably be better if you did just so we can keep you still while I do it."

Oooh, so that was why he was doing that. "What about them is the best? Are they more coffee-y?" He said, as he sat down on the sofa or the floor or wherever Allan wanted him. "If they're nice enough, maybe I'll ask you for the replicator recipe." Replipe.

"Well... hm, I don't know how to describe it, actually," Allan said, "maybe like... smoother? Although I don't know what you normally drink, so it's hard to compare against that. I'm not too good with food descriptions anyways," or descriptions at all, really - Eshen was always a lot better at those, actually. "Only real way is to try it, I guess, if you want." He took the mug with him to the couch, setting it on the coffee table nearby. He sat next to Mo on the sofa and just kneeled so he'd be a good bit taller than normal, and then started up the flatiron, taking a piece of Mo's front bangs into his hand. "Man, I wish I had this color naturally. Would be so much easier," he laughed, and then held the flatiron up to the Captain's hair. "Last chance to back out before we do your front bangs here, you want your hair black?" He asked for some confirmation before he got started.

"Go ahead," said Mo after, then spoke as Allan was working, "I usually drink replicator coffee, which is just whatever generic coffee recipe they have in the system, so it's probably more... Bland, I suppose, than proper beans. I guess I would like it a bit more bitter." After all, the coffee that would appeal to the widest common denominator of people would be the one least offensive to the palette, so they couldn't risk it being too bitter. "Will be interesting not to have this colour for a bit. Apparently humans aren't supposed to actually have this shade of hair naturally, but I didn't know that 'til I came to the Federation. Maybe I'm some sorta weird experiment or somethin'." Backstory plot twist! Nah, not likely. Whoever messed with his genes would probably not give him the health problems he had growing up, which were now mostly gone thanks to Federation healthcare but occasionally some symptoms decided they wanted to appear again for no reason.

Allan went ahead, and started dying Mo's hair with the little flatiron device. It had a very direct application of heat to the hair, so the hair would feel sort of warm after but not burning or anything - and, of course, each strand was Anish Kapoor black. "Hmm, more bitter probably isn't this, I think? Maybe. It really depends what the default is," he hadn't had the default in... years, probably. "Hmm, I mean - jet black eyes aren't too common, either, I think," he said as he finished with Mo's front bangs, which would be pretty obviously visible to the other now, and then moved on to the sides. "Do you want your eyebrows to match, or you leaving those red..?"

"It would be weird to be walkin' around lookin' like I dyed my eyebrows red for some kind of prank, so yeah." The warmth and the motion of what Allan was doing was actually pretty relaxing. "I don't mind tryin' your smooth coffee. If you like it, it's probably pretty good."

"Okayy, I'll do those when we get around to the little root bits," he kept doing the rest of Mo's hair, just sort of moving one hand through it to sort it out and feed it into the flatiron, and then the other hand well, used the flatiron. "Yeah, you can try it. I think I like it mostly cause it's sort of a home thing, but here," he finished a strand of hair and then reached over to grab the coffee mug, handing it to Mo.

"Oh, I didn't mean, like, try it right now, but sure." Sharing a mug? The twelve year old in his head was yelling something about an indirect kiss, but he ignored it. He'd shared mugs with plenty of people back when he was young and living on the Vulture in bunks with 10 other guys. He took a sip. "...Hey, this is pretty smooth. I think. I don't have the most discernin' palette, but it tastes nice, anyway." The warmth of the mug around his hands felt even more relaxing. Now all he needed was a fireplace and stormy weather outside. He did have a holosim like that, but he wasn't sure if a high-energy guy like Allan would be interested in something as subdued as that. Maybe he should ask. "Hey, do you ever enjoy stuff that's, uh... Not like a party at all? Like, it has the opposite kind of energy? You know, as few people as possible, doing something that doesn't involve a lot of talking. Like, just spending time with another person while you do some sort of... Activity together." Wait. That's what a fucking date is. "Like reading, or watching something, or... Makin' apple pie, I don't know."

"Oh! So smooth is actually like, the right word to describe it, kinda?" Allan grinned, actually glad that he'd found a good description for something. It really was something he thought he wasn't too good at, describing things like tastes and feelings and things that weren't super technical. "I'm glad you like it." He finished up with Mephis's hair, and pretty much all of it was now jet-black with the exception of the close roots, which were still bright red. After running both his hands through Mo's hair again to check that he hadn't missed any of the strands, he turned off the flatiron and set it on the coffee table. "Hmm? As few people as..." he thought the same thing, actually, this sounded A Lot Like A Date, but he wouldn't say that to the guy he was still on a last-name or rank basis with. "Yeah, that stuff's like... necessary, I think. Little small moments like that and all. Really great to just recharge when you're with someone you really care about, too," It was always good to be just laying down with someone and doing something like watching or reading or making apple pie. That and parties were like... true opposites, but he felt you needed a balance of them. He set a hand on Mo's shoulder and got up, then. "I'm gonna replicate some of the stuff for the roots and uh, the eyebrows, unfortunately they haven't made that much easier over the centuries since it's trickier tech or whatever. Needs a more uh... focused sort of beam, if that makes sense." He said as he walked over to the replicator yet again. "You want some of your own coffee while I'm here?"

Funny that Allan should be thinking about first names, because that was suddenly on Mo's mind too. After all, he couldn't ask someone on something that sounded a lot like a date without them calling him by his first name, right? There were a couple of people he'd thought about handing that privilege to, but... Well, only Saren was still here. Maybe Alizati. He tried not to think about the other friends he'd made who'd left, because that made The Loneliness sink in a bit, and he frowned as he stared into his coffee. He'd love to have those moments with people, platonic or romantic, where you just enjoyed one another's company, but he had such a hard time making friends and then an even harder time keeping them, and the one time he'd even managed to get hitched... Well, that didn't work out. Technically he'd only ever known one person who'd died but sometimes he felt like he'd lost a lot of people. Nope. Think about something else. Someone. Allan. Yeah, he'd be okay with Allan calling him by his first name. Also, he actually wanted to be called Mephis. He didn't pick his own name just for people to not use it. He looked up suddenly, having barely been paying attention to what Allan was saying. "Huh? Oh, yeah, that'd be nice, thanks. Sorry, was just thinkin' about stuff." (edited)

Allan let everyone call him Allan, but it was sort of hard to tell most of the time unless they'd learned to pronounce it differently like he had. It was a subtle difference, sure, but he could notice and hear it by now. What he also noticed, though, was Mo's frown and stare into the coffee as he replicated the black detail dyer and made a plain, black cup of coffee in the coffee machine. "You okay, though?" The engineer asked, even though Mo said it was 'just thinkin' about stuff'... sometimes that's what Allan said when he wasn't feeling okay at all. Sometimes that's what he'd say after spending the entire early morning crying his eyes out. Sometimes, though, he really was just thinking about stuff. But it was always good to ask, in his opinion. "I mean - if you wanna talk about it, that is." Soon enough, the coffee was done and he handed the mug to Mo as he sat back down, putting the dye onto the dye detailing device thing and then on his hands. "Honestly, I'm not sure why they haven't improved this part much over 3 centuries. I might try and experiment with something eventually."

Mo might have made a comment about helping Allan with the device, but too much else was on his mind. He sipped his hot coffee and circled the rim with his finger. He himself didn't actually cry that often, though he felt no shame in letting it out - on his own, anyway. But this wasn't really a sort of crying feeling. He just felt... Regretful, and lonely, and a little nostalgic for the days where he was always surrounded by people. "Honestly, it's a lot to explain. Just, uh, miss some people, I guess." Sip. "You can call me by my first name, y'know. Mephistopheles, or Mephis if you need to shorten it."

Oh. That was... stuff, yeah. "Ah," was all he said when he put the dye on one hand and held the device with the other, putting his dye-covered hand in Mo's hair and starting to rub it into the roots the flatiron hadn't gotten to. Felt sort of like a scalp massage, honestly. Call him Mephis? The last person - well, the only person he'd heard do that was... someone who he also missed, in a really minor way compared to how the Captain did, probably. "Don't think I'll ever need to, but... what would you prefer?" He didn't really like shortening people's names just for the sake of it being easier. Felt like a cop-out, especially with people who had less common names that were maybe a little more difficult to learn.

Ah. He hadn't anticipated this being so... Well, this was the most physical contact he'd gotten in a while, honestly. Call him Captain Touch Starved. Would it be weird if he closed his eyes and just enjoyed this? He wasn't sure, though his eyes were half-lidded and his breathing was slow, so Allan could probably tell this was pretty chillaxing, as the kids... Didn't say at all because that was extremely outdated slang. "I prefer Mephistopheles, but I know it's a bit of a mouthful. I won't hold it against ya for shortening it as long as you try to say the full thing sometimes."

Allan chuckled. "I have a grandma named Alejandrina, and her full name is about seven names longer. Mephistopheles is no problem, trust me," he kept rubbing the dye through, making sure it got into those little spots under most of Mephistopheles's hair where those roots were. "Plus, I find it kind of a cop-out to say the shorter name if it's not like, a cute pet name or something. Like, I don't think you should have to be super famous or anything for people to learn to say your name properly, but uh... that's a whole 'nother tangent, sorry." He gently tilted Mephistopheles's head forwards so he could get the roots at the back of his neck.

Okay, with his head tilted forward like this Allan could barely see his eyes, so it didn't matter if he closed them, right? "Ha, yeah, I do agree wi' that. Honestly, I just kinda stole my name from a play I read when I was young and the people who raised me were tryin' to introduce me to human culture but didn't really have any idea of what was considered significant for humans, or appropriate for a ten-year-old. I thought the name must be really cool because it was long and because a demon had it, and I liked demons a lot. They were these weird... Outsiders to humanity. Always offerin' deals like some kinda Ferengi. Oh, and don't worry about goin' on tangents; I enjoy hearin' what you have to say and God knows I ramble on enough sometimes anyway."

"Sounds like a fun play," he said, finishing up the little hairs closest to Mephistopheles's neck, making sure with the detail tool that the dye didn't get onto his actual skin too much, because that would be pretty obvious with how pale the other man was. "It is a cool name, so like, yeah." He really appreciated when the other said he enjoyed hearing what he had to say. That was... always comforting to hear when you felt like you rambled too much. "Okay, back done, now-" he twirled the tool around in his fingers so it was out of his palm and set that hand - his right - onto Mephistopheles's shoulder. "I'm gonna pull ya back to me to do your edges and eyebrows, okay?" It was the best way he knew how to do it, the way he learned how to do it since he was a teenager.

Mo laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess fun is one way to put it." A lot of wild shit happened in that play. A lot of unethical shit, too, but it was about demons and the main character was a prick from the start so that was to be expected. "Uh, sure, go for it," he said when Allan asked about pulling him back to him even though he didn't really understand what he meant by that, honestly.

"Yeah, I feel any play about demons is gonna be like that. Mischievous little bastards. Excellent last-minute Halloween costumes, too," he laughed, pulling Mephistopheles's shoulder down towards him so that his shoulders would be leaning against his chest, and then put his arm over said shoulder to reach and tilt his chin up towards him. The other hand went into the front of his hair, to work on those (soon to not be) bright red edges. "You're probably gonna want to close your eyes, not to say that I'm not good at this or anything, or that the stuff is toxic - I am good at it, and it's not - but getting anything in your eye is generally unpleasant."

"Yeah, I've actually dressed as a demon for a couple'a costume parties in my time, believe it or not." Oh. That's what he meant. Did he just tilt his chin up - nope. He was going to be so normal about this. So normal. "Ah, okay, that makes sense, just tell me when I can open 'em again." He swallowed thickly, then closed his eyes.

"Aw, me too. We should compare the costumes, although I'm sure you were probably a bit more... refined with it." Meaning: less slutty. "Yeah, I'll let you know." Yeah, he learned how to do this when he was a teenager, and then kept doing it in the Academy, and the last person he'd done this to was a Vulcan man named Croc who was really enthused (as much as one could imagine a much-older-than-himself Vulcan man let on about being) about being able to dye his hair for the first time. Somehow, most of the people he ended up dying their hair for them ended up waking up together with him the next morning. He was unsure of why. He didn't think that'd happen at all here, though. He simply Did Not Think about possibilities, really. Things just sort of Happened for him. "Will be a bit. This is the hardest part, usually. Eyebrows 'n all." He started putting the dye through the edges, using the tool to keep the dye away from his forehead. That would be... an interesting terrible look, black dye dripping down your forehead.

This was probably totally normal for Allan. He had the vibes of someone who grew up in a big family, like Mo... Kinda did, in a way, where this kind of contact was fairly common when you were taking care of someone in some way, at least when you're young. But for him, the last time he'd had this much extended physical contact was... Had it been six years? Nearly seven? He'd hugged Dagis once and Saren about twice, maybe, but those were brief and more about him comforting their distress than... This. He was no longer relaxed. Well, he kind of was, but he was also losing his mind trying not to be weird about this, partially because if Allan noticed he might stop and he Did Not Want Him To. It didn't help that he'd just been thinking about loneliness and missing people and also asking Allan on a maybe-date literally right before this. He barely had the energy to say coherent things any more. "Y-yeah, just, uh... Take your time..."

Yeah, it was completely normal for him. He grew up in a big family, despite being an only child, -and- just hung around people a whole hell of a lot. The last time he'd had this much extended contact was, like, yesterday, probably. Still, though, it was a bit coincidental that he also was up at night thinking about being lonely a few nights prior. Despite everything. "Will do," he said as he continued to go through Mephistopheles's edges, indeed taking his time when he did so. "So this is like, your first time ever dying it, or? I mean, the first time I dyed mine was when I was like... thirteen, fourteen? And I tried like, every single color that existed until I found I liked red the best." (edited)

Oh no. Why did he say take your time. Wait. No, actually, he wanted him to take his time so this lasted as long as possible. Or did he? Fuck. "No, I just... experimented with the style mostly, tryin' to find cuts that were more... Masculine, I guess, or professional, or whatever, but... people said the red suited me, so I, um, never contemplated any colour other than black, really." Blonde would make him look like even more of a bond villain than he already did. But, like, in a sort of bad way? Less like he was going to burst into a cool villain solo number and more like he was going to do war crimes. Blue and green and other bright colours would just look bad on him. He'd stick to his shadow the hedgehog colour palette of black and red, thanks.

"Oh, man, yeah, I get that. The cut was sooo hard to settle down on for me," he laughed, he'd had all sorts of cuts over the years. The terrible 6-year-old bowl cut, the 12-year-old barber shop fade, the 14-year-old emo bangs... not to mention the brief mohawk era, or the mullet era. Didn't help that his hair was a sort of odd texture, too, that was somehow neither his mother's or his father's but like, his grandfather's, maybe, since his uncles on that side had similar hair. "The red does suit you, they weren't wrong. But this," he sort of ran his hand through the front of Mephistopheles's hair, just to fluff it up a bit, "this is good, actually."

Feeling Allan run his hand through his hair a bit while his eyes were closed was very nice. This whole thing was very nice. Allan was nice. Too nice. Part of him literally wanted to cry. Later, maybe, when the buzz from all this physical contact was gone and the hollowness from its absence and the knowledge that this was probably all he'd get for the next six years set in. "Is it? Not like I can see it." He opened one eye a peek. "Are you done?"

Allan chuckled, stopping for a moment as he did. "You're right; you can't. Now shut your eyes again, 'cause I'm not done." It felt a little strange to tell him so directly to do something for him, but they were Friends now, right, and Friends said stuff like this all the time, especially when it came to important Friend things like dying eachother's hair. "Just got the eyebrows left, your edges are done though," he double-checked them just to make sure, though, before he very carefully ran his fingers and the device across Mephistopheles's eyebrows, using the device to really shape the way the dye ended up going so that the eyebrows didn't look like there was paint around the edges of them. "Okay, okay, now you can open 'em, but keep laying back, you don't want anything dripping or anything, so just - stay here for a minute or two," he usually did two when it was his himself.

When ordered - which was an odd but not... unpleasant experience - he closed his eyes. Feeling Allan run his fingers across his eyebrows was strange. He'd always been told he had unusually-shaped eyebrows, very arched and pointy near the temples. He was an unusual-looking person in general, though.... Wait, he thought they were done. He was supposed to just... stay here for two minutes? Like this? With Allan? Was the universe playing a prank on him? Was this a good or a bad thing? "Yeah, okay... Allan, can you do me a favour? Can we just... Not talk for those two minutes? This is, er... Relaxing." That word didn't even begin to encapsulate what this meant to him right now. He was going to close his eyes and just... Enjoy this, if Allan would let him.

They were rather unusually-shaped eyebrows, but that kind of made it more fun to go over them with the dye. A bit of a challenge, if you will. And Allan always was down for a challenge. "Mhm," He nodded when asked if he could stay quiet, although the other couldn't see him nod. Of course Allan would let him. And so he did stay silent for about two minutes or however much longer Mephistopheles would stay quiet for, because he wasn't going to be the one fucking counting. He'd just talk again whenever Mephistopheles did.

It was probably more like three minutes... Maybe four... Let's say three and a half 'til Mephis spoke again, but he didn't move yet. He didn't know why he felt compelled to admit it, but: "Allan, if I tell you something, will you promise to not think it's too pathetic?" Pause for a promise. "This is... The longest physical contact I've had with someone in six years. Seven by the new year. The, uh... The job gets busy, y'know?" Yeah, like the only thing holding him back from getting more than three hugs a year at best was his job. It wasn't; it was that he was a sad and lonely man who distanced himself from others. That was probably more the reason he wasn't going to the Winter Ball than any kind of introversion, and the same reason he hadn't gone anywhere for Summer Shore Leave, and attending any other celebration or taken any other kind of vacation unless he had to, because his natural habitat was being alone in his office. He sat up so that he was sitting next to Allan and reached for his coffee. Still warm, but not as much as he'd have liked. "Sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say. So what do we do now? More waiting?" (edited)

So, three and a half minutes passed without Allan saying a single other word. In a way, that was a bit of a challenge, too, although it got easier the older he got. Especially in a chill situation like this, though, it was pretty easy. "Promise," he looked down at Mephistopheles, there were ... very little things he thought were actually 'too pathetic', and he doubted Mephistopheles was about to say any of them. Yeah, and what Mephistopheles said was not one of those, not even close. Was he a little surprised someone like Mephistopheles wasn't out here having game? Sure, just a little, but also, he could understand when he said the job got busy and all. Even though they had this these moments together every Tuesday, maybe every other day was fully booked? Wait, was Allan stopping Mephistopheles from getting it? Wait, no, Mephistopheles had just said he'd given him the longest physical contact in nearly 7 years by leaning against him. Right. "What? No, that's not a weird thing to say at all, actually, um- people have told me similar things before." There was a woman in her late 60s who had told him she hadn't had a hug in over a decade back in the bingo club in the shipyards. He'd asked to give her one immediately afterwards, of course. "'What do we do now?' Well, the dye's on, so you don't have to wait or anything, I can just... if you have a mirror somewhere, or I can use my PADD camera so you can see what it looks like," he looked over at Mephistopheles with a bright smile. He actually looked super good with the black hair!!! "And, um... just to put it out there - I know and I apologize that I'm more known around the station for uh... more... intimate, things," oh that was a weird way to phrase he was known as one of the station...

15:45

"But I do wanna say, I mean, this is... very casual for me, but you shouldn't... like, don't be afraid to tell me if it's too much, yeah?" He blinked and looked away to the coffee table and back at Mephistopheles. "Or, I guess, the other way around. If you just like, want a hug or anything else, I really don't mind."

Mephis cleared his throat when Allan mentioned his reputation. Yeah, he'd heard. The only person who had a reputation that rivaled Allan was his boyfriend; he wasn't sure anyone was surprised when they got together. It was... A lot to compete with, actually. Not that he was even in the lineup. As far as he was concerned, if what he was feeling right now was just a bit beyond regular old attraction, which he honestly hoped it wasn't because last time he thought he might slightly have feelings like that for someone they transferred off the station because that was how his luck went... Anyway, the point was that Allan was out of his league. That said, yes, he absolutely did want a hug, but even though Allan was explicitly saying he was okay with it somehow it still felt like too much. "I don't know if I want one or not," he said, which was more or less the truth. "Don't worry, I, uh, I'd feel comfortable telling you if it got uncomfortable. It's not like it's too much, exactly... It used to be fairly casual for me, too, the way I grew up. But then I came to the Federation, and as you climb the ranks it gets harder to not feel like you have to be professional all the time, and... Well, I won't get into it but one way or another I lost a lot of people and it's hard to make connections when you feel like they're temporary. Plus - I know it's supposed to be a senior staff privilege to have a room to yourself, but I honestly really miss having a roommate. I used to bunk with ten different people and now... I mean, Bandit and the Isopods - which sounds like a band name - they're great, but jeez, I wanna talk to a fuckin' person every morning, y'know? And make them coffee, um..." (edited)

18:40

He looked down at the hot drink in his hands. "Like this, I guess. Ah, sorry, I don't know where that came from, let me just..." He put the coffee down, stood up and walked to a sort of desk mirror, and... Oh, hey, he actually looked good, which was a thought he wouldn't have been capable of a year ago. Was it the therapy, character development, or that Allan made him look this? Probably a mix of all three. "Ah, it looks pretty good, thanks," he said, running a hand through his now-dark hair and looking at Allan with a small but genuine smile. "Maybe I'll alternate the colours every so often." (edited)

Yeah, Allan and Eshen were kinda a power couple when it came to their reputations. Combined, they were probably unstoppable. They still had to do a hit number about that, actually. Still, behind the extravagant and flamboyant appearances, Allan didn't think he was really out of anyone's league. The whole concept, even, of a 'league' when it came to relationships had always sounded silly to him in the first place, to think that some people were just too good for someone else (which sounded rather insulting to the other person, really). If you asked him, he'd say everyone deserves the best for themselves. "That's okay," he said quickly in response to the other saying he didn't know if he wanted a hug or not. "You don't have to know," he smiled, listening as Mephistopheles went on to explain about how he grew up and then... ah, back to the topic of missing people. How difficult it was to make connections and build meaningful relationships when they felt... temporary. "Nah, don't apologize, I understand what you're saying, I kinda was feeling the same way the other morning," Allan said gently, offering Mephistopheles a warm smile. Really, though, the way the other man described missing a roommate to talk to every morning and make them coffee and... it was... almost identical to the feeling Allan had the other morning about wanting to wake up next to someone each morning and do those same things. "Also, I dunno if you meant it this way, but I'd totally be down to be your roommate if you ever wanted to get one just for the sake of it, like, we could be eachother's anchors or however it's said, I think. It'd have to be a 2413 initiative, though, 'cause me and Comet already took Christmas card photos and decorated the whole place." divider

(edited)

19:44

He watched Mephistopheles go over to the little desk mirror and run a hand through his hair and - oh, that smile he got in his direction made Some Sort of Feeling come across him. Maybe just one of those genuine flashes of pure happiness. "Y'know, kinda like the hair stuff, it's sometimes worth taking a bit of a risk, right? Even if it doesn't work out in the long run." He didn't think he would ever have chosen not to get attached to someone if he knew what the fate of that relationship was going to be. It was... worth it, really, it was, every second, every moment. "Oh, and uhh, about the hug, if you want one, just let me know. I'm here for you, man, whatever you need."

Mephis opened his mouth and then closed it again, furrowing his brow. Allan? Staying with him? Was that... Allowed? You'd think he'd know, since he was in charge of the station. He'd have to check. He walked over to Allan and sat down next to him, not quite close enough that their sides were touching or anything, but enough so that if he moved his leg to the right a tad their knees would touch. Scandalous. "Anchors is... A really nice way to put it, actually. That's kinda what I want too. Just someone you can rely on to, like... Be there." He'd had that once and he sorely missed it, but he just wasn't sure anyone would really want to invest in him enough to do that. Although, like, Allan was literally offering. In a roommate sense. "But I don't know if that's allowed. I'll have to look into it. Also, um, if you just suddenly moved in with me, people would think we're... Involved in some way." While he was interested in taking Allan on some sort of Potential Non-Platonic Outing (or he would be if he had the confidence), being Involved was a little much, even if it was just hearsay from other people - and he was the Captain, so there would definitely be hearsay. "But I do like the idea, and you did make a good point about takin' risks, so, uh, I guess I don't know if I want that at the moment either." He went to reach for the coffee again, but paused, then turned so he was facing Allan a little more. "I'm surprised you feel like that, though. You don't really seem like someone who goes lonely very often. Somehow it's kinda reassuring, if that's not rude. Also, maybe... Maybe I do want that hug - i-if you don't mind."

"Yeah," Allan agreed. 'Someone you can rely on to, like, be there' was also a really nice way to put it, so nice it was taking a bit of effort right now for Allan to not sound like he was Really Really Missing it, because he Did, in a sense, even though it seemed so silly for him to. It almost felt guilty, or selfish, or both for him to. And as far as the way people talked, he didn't think there was a way he could exist and not have people say something about it. Sometimes he was glad to live rent-free in people's heads, but.. in all reality, people probably already talked about the possibility of them being Involved in some way, from these Tuesday Gamer Meetings, just because the sheer act of Allan visiting someone regularly could, God forbid, mean being Involved. It was a line of thought - thinking about how people thought about himself and the things that he did - that had been extremely exhausting in the past, but now he really could care less. People would think what they thought and he would know what he knew and if they wanted to know that so bad, they could just ask him. Or just keep thinking their thoughts. Whatever. It did just slightly suck, though, that because Allan was Allan and had the reputation that Allan had was where most of that assumption would come from. He wasn't sure if people who didn't know Alizati and Men personally, for example, even thought anything at all when they moved in together. Because in that case none of them had an extremely scandalous reputation. But now he was thinking about it, and he had told himself he wouldn't think about it. So he stopped. For now. divider

00:26

He reached out and placed a hand on Mephistopheles's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah! No worries, just offering. Take your time, but don't overthink it or anything." He was a very 'do it now and worry about the rest later' kind of guy, but he understood that a lot of everyone else, well, wasn't like that. "I'm-" Oh, he hadn't expected Mephistopheles to say he didn't seem like someone who got lonely very often at all. He was glad it was reassuring to the other man, but those feelings of guilt and oh-God-what-if-I'm-just-really-selfish came back to him but he just smiled, because it was reassuring to Mephistopheles and he really didn't want to ruin that as he nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind." And then he pulled Mephistopheles closer to him and wrapped both his arms around him in a gentle hug.

Fortunately, Mephis had been too oblivious to the idea that Allan coming around to his room every Tuesday might cause people to think they were involved. After all, it's not like he came over late at night or something. He, personally, didn't think about Allan's Reputation often except in that it meant Allan had the charisma, looks and popularity that made Mephis feel like asking him out would be a laughable act. Hell, even the idea that he might have a slight crush on him felt silly, because, like, yeah, he and half the station. Mephis wasn't thinking about any of those worries for once, though, as he wrapped his arms around Allan - just that the hug was warm, and that was very comforting. He felt small, but in a good way, their heights aligned so that he could lean his forehead on Allan's chest, just below the collarbone. Allan smelled like coffee, hair dye, flowers and... Some kind of sweet baked good, maybe? It was nice, but he wasn't going to say something like 'you smell good' because that sounded weird. He stayed like that for a minute or two before pulling away, but not entirely - he didn't want to stop hugging yet, he just wanted to look up at Allan while he talked to him. They were... Very close, but he tried to ignore that. "Actually... If you're sayin' you get lonely, then... If you ever need a hug, you can, uh, ask me for one, if you need it, unless I'm workin'. I mean, it sounds like we've been feelin' the same way recently, so whatever comfort I can offer I'd like to give. You're, uh..." He looked away, trying to put his relationship into Allan into words. With his face so pale and his hair black, the blush on his cheeks stood out twice as much now. "A good friend o'mine, Allan, so maybe I don't really understand why you've been lonely but if you wanna talk about it we can do that too. So... Yeah."

Allan couldn't help but feel touched by the other's offer. He had no doubts that Mephistopheles was a kind and caring person, but this just solidified it even more. He gave him a small smile, taking in the sight of him blushing like that and calling him a good friend. "Thanks, Mephistopheles," He said softly. "That... means a lot to me, actually, um - if there's anything I can do to help you too, I'm more than happy to return the favor, by the way. To um, give anything I can offer." He hoped he had said that right. He paused for a moment, considering whether or not he wanted to open up about his feelings of loneliness. It wasn't something he talked about often, or even to anyone yet, really, since he'd had them here, but he felt like he could trust Mephistopheles. "I don't know if I can really put into words why I've been feeling lonely," He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... I don't know. It's like I have all these people around me, but it's like I'm still missing something I used to have, like, I - don't ... I don't know, kinda like what you said earlier about waking up and talking to someone and making them coffee, um. It's hard to explain." He sighed as he tried to put his feelings into words. It was never easy. "I dunno, maybe I'm just being selfish? Like, I have a boyfriend and we love each other very much but like, I-" No, those next words sounded way too much like he was a selfish bitch and he wasn't going to be saying them, because saying something that would make him look at all like a bad person scared the living daylights out of him. "I ... being lonely isn't something I like to admit, but it's true? And it means a lot to me that you're willing to listen and be there for me. It's nice, um- the whole... anchor thing." divider

03:12

He smiled down at Mephistopheles, sort of taking a bit of a risk by putting a hand in the others' hair and brushing it back to look in his eyes, which were just as jet-black as his hair was now, still holding him close. "Mephistopheles, you're more - you're more than a good friend to me. I dunno how to explain that, like," Like an amazing friend? A super-friend? Maybe an awesome friend. "But I'm... I'm glad to have you here, uh. In my life, so... if you ever want to talk or hug or whatever, just hang out, literally whatever, I don't fucking care except I do care and -" Was the room dusty at all? Because he had some tears in his eyes at this point, and it definitely wasn't just from the fact that Mephistopheles was a great friend, but perhaps because he'd also just opened up a lot about being lonely and there were so many other feelings there he had to still unpack eventually. "I'm here for you. You know where to find me." And then he hugged him again, hoping to convey the words he couldn't quite come up with through the embrace.

'More than a good friend' to me. Okay, wow, he was going to hyperanalyse that later. And the gently brushing his hair like that? Was Allan trying to make him Feel Things? No, he couldn't possibly, right? It was honestly hard to tell because Allan was such a casually affectionate guy, if the way he dyed hair was any indication. And was he crying? Was he upset or happy? Maybe a bit of both. "I think that... I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me about this. You should probably talk about it with Eshen too, though. I don't think you're selfish for havin' these feelings and I doubt he will either." And then he was hugged again and he returned the embrace tightly, putting aside any feelings or questions about what this all meant and just enjoying being close enough to another human being that he could hear him breathing and his heartbeat if he pressed his ear to his chest. "Sounds like... we can be one another's anchors even if we aren't livin' together," he mumbled into Allan's chest. That was about as close as he could get to admitting his maybe-feelings right now, in a way. "That's all I want from you. And this."

Allan took a deep breath, stopping the tears that had threatened to come through earlier. "Yeah, you're... you're probably right," he knew Mephistopheles was right, actually, but still there was the ever-present voice in the back of his head that he usually shoved away that said what if he wasn't right and everything you were scared of happening happened? Yeah, it was kind of a stupid voice. So he shoved it away again. It wasn't even so much as to make Mephistopheles Feel Things that Allan had put his hand in the other's hair, but that the other was just at a very convenient height for him to be able to do so. He really only noticed this because as they hugged, he still had his hand there, running it through the back of his hair when the other mumbled into his chest. Even if the phrasing of 'that's all I want from you and this' tempted Allan's brain to hyperanalyse -that- later, he had to focus on the positive here. And just being in this moment, here, was a huge-ass positive. "We can be," he spoke softly. And so they'd hold on tight to eachother and never let one of them drift away, right? That's what anchors did? Right.

A present arrived for Mo: A very neatly wrapped box with shiny/metallic red wrapping paper and a silver bow on top. It also had a small sticker that said "fragile" on top. Inside the box were 3 items: the first being a black leather-covered copy of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven", engraved with gold lettering and an image of a raven atop a human skull in front of the Terran moon. It also had a golden spine with fanciful engravings. The second and third item were a pair: a coffee mug and stirring spoon. They were both in the shape of a cat: the mug was mostly white, the exception being its golden ears and a heart-shaped nose and a Bandit-style black mask that looked to be custom. The stirring spoon was gold and the top of the handle was a cat head, with little arms to each side to keep it upright on the side of the cup. A note was left that said: "Merry Christmas and happy birthday, Captain."

[D] Mephis arrived home from work - yes, he was working on Christmas day, which was also his birthday, the man could NEVER switch off - picked up the present, brought inside and into his room, then unwrapped it while sitting on his bed. When he unveiled the mug, he barked a short laugh and poked Bandit to wake her up. "Look, s'you."

Bandit blinked blearily, sniffed the mug, stared at it with an expression like she had one single brain cell bouncing around her head like a windows screensaver, then went back to sleep.

"Yeah, it's lost on you. Cute, though. Pity I don't know who it's from." He didn't exactly hide how much he liked cats, after all. He took a look at the book. "Terran poetry, eh? Well, I do actually like that kinda thing, so... I don't know if I ever disclosed that to anyone before. Did I fill that out on the form? Don't remember. Not even sure why I signed up, but hey, it's workin' out," he said, talking absentmindedly to himself and his sleeping cat. "Damn pretty book, too." Gold stuff and goth stuff; his aesthetic. He made himself a coffee in his new mug and curled up with his cat, reading it for the rest of the evening. It was both nice and a little sad that this was one of the better birthdays he'd had in a while; it was the little things, he supposed.

[D] After sending the Captain a quick message, asking Mo if he could come over real quick, and receiving the confirmation, Saren soon arrived at the doors - the messenger bag still by his side, now a noticeable tad lighter after he delivered his gift to Aella, but Saren still carried it with utmost care, as if there was something fragile inside. And who knows, maybe there was? Anyways, he rang the door.

The door slid open, and Saren was greeted with the sight of Mo in a warm sweater with a cat mug and an actual cat near his legs. "Hello, Saren. Can I call you Saren? You can call me Mephis, if you would like." Friendship: upgraded! "Come in, sit." He walked inside the living room and sat on the sofa. Meanwhile, Bandit sniffed at Saren's leg.

Okay, that was a very cozy scene that Saren, in all honestly, was not expecting to see; Christmas was proving to be a season full of surprises. "Yes you can, Cap-- Mephis," oof, that would need some getting used to. The rank was almost a nickname at this point, still a respectful one; the fact that the man allowed the Romulan to use his name was... important, "and, of course, Bandit." He sat down, watching the cat approach him; peculiar little Terran creature that often bore similarities to his and Vulcan species in mannerisms. Not that any of them would admit to that out loud, either finding the sentence too harmful for their pride, or too illogical for their mind, but who cared, really? Also, the cat was cute. Saren let it do it's own thing, meanwhile settling his palms over the messenger bag, ready to open it: "I see that the holiday spirit has gotten to you too," he noted half-jokingly, himself a victim of the sweater tradition; yes, he was wearing the jolly reindeer skulls, proudly. "And I may have indulged myself in the gifting tradition, so... that's the reason I came here."

As Bandit hopped up on the sofa between them and snifsnifsnif'd the messenger bag, Mo chuckled, a low and raspy sound. "You could say that. S'also my birthday. Got this book I think you might enjoy, too," he said, thinking of the book of Edgar Allan Poe-try. "I got summat for you, actually. Hold on." He got up and opened a drawer, showing Saren a crow's skull with small metallic gold patterns painted on the white bone and gems stuck in the eyes. "It's not done 'cause I wasn't sure what t'do with it. Could put it on a necklace and wear it? But it's pretty fragile. Too light for a paperweight, too. Also, I forgot to wrap it."

"It's your birthday?" Saren tilted his head. "Ah, damn, if I knew... I would've brought two. But, happy birthday, Mephis." He slowly turned his palm over, offering it to Bandit, in case the little lady of the station wanted to get acquainted with him. Should've taken a peek into the crew roster... well, he'll do better next year. "Sum-- oh?" Oh. Oh. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw the skull, clearly not caring for the lack of wrapping or it's unfinished nature - because holy shit, he was being gifted this. "I like it," Saren said immediately, gaze shifting back to Mo, looking a lot like an excited scavenger who just stumbled upon a delicious, calcium-rich meal. "Do you wish to finish it, or?.." While awaiting the answer, Saren opened his messenger bag to carefully take out a small, black, cubic box - one that he handed out to Mo - and then lifted out an even smaller, brown box. He opened it, revealing an octopus-like cat toy - body round enough to be rolled around the floor, tentacles soft enough to be chewed on. "This one," he put the nanov on the sofa for Bandit to take a look at, "is a gift from my mother. Both of my parents seem to be fascinated by the concept of a cat. And, well, the black one... is a gift from me." It was a small - fit-in-a-palm sort of small - glass dome, looking a bit like an old, forgotten lantern; it had moss and dead flowers inside, surrounding and growing out of a vulture's skull, like it has been forgotten in some dark, overgrown forest. A couple of thin, ghostly pale fungi were already growing out of it's empty eye socket, their caps waggling slightly at every movement of the dome. "You can open it from the top, over there," the Romulan added helpfully, the restless rubbing of his palms betraying his nervousness, "Merry Christmas, sir. I'm... glad, to have someone on the station who also approves of this, uh, side of art. Let's call it that. Means I have someone... to share it with."

Bandit pressed her little wet nose against Saren's palm and then headbutted his hand, having decided he was Safe and therefore owed her pets, but was then soon distracted by the toy nanov. Mo chucked it onto the floor so that she could pounce upon it and entertain herself as they talked, though she would not doubt return soon for the pets she deserved.

Mephis smiled at her actions and then turned his attention back to Saren, taking the little orb in his palm, though he didn't open it, wanting to leave the contents undisturbed. "It's beautiful," he said, holding his hand in different positions to look at it from different angles, enjoying how the light shined through it when he held it just right. "I'm glad to share it with you. I don't know how to finish this, exactly, so... Just take it as a token of friendship and use it as an ornament, I s'pose," he said, handing the gem-eye crow's skull to Saren. "I imagine you have a collection it could go well with. Which I'd like to see, by the way."

He watched Bandit pounce; the plush toy seemed to be a success, judging by the ferocity of the tiny predator, comparable to one of a vivver cat. And the gift for Mephis, who was busy studying it, seemed to be one, too - and both of those facts made the Romulan damn happy, if the tiny smile on his lips was anything to go by. "Thank you so much, Ca-- Mephis," he took the skull like he was being handed some sort of expensive treasure. In a way, he was - metaphorically. Saren used the brown box to store it safely, until he returned to his quarters, meanwhile letting out a quiet hum: "I do, yes - I started my collection when I joined the Academy. Let's just say... it certainly raised some eyebrows." Because rooming with a quiet Romulan who collected dead things was not ominous, at all. Saren got lucky, though - his first roommate was equally as quiet, and also just as weird as him. He should write another letter to the Jelna, sometime soon... "See? Well, I certainly wouldn't mind," he nodded, shifting his gaze down to watch Bandit for a bit. "My shelves already look like some morbid ass museum, might as well start treating them as one. I guess you could reach out to me via a message?"

Mo nodded. "When I have time between everything - and when you have time, too, of course." He didn't want to expect people to always work around his schedule just because he was the station commander. "I actually had a bunch of stuff, but it was lost in a transporter accident. That's why my room ain't a museum in itself yet." All those cool skulls and bones... "So d'you need anything else or do you wanna get goin'? You could stay a bit, play with Bandit, and - you a fan of gothic poetry at all? I got a cool present I'd like to show ya..."

Yet. Saren looked around, as if trying to imagine how Mo's personal quarters would look like if they were full of similar oddities, and the Romulan couldn't help but feel a pang of shame that the Captain's collection had befallen as a victim of a transporter accident: "To be honest, I wouldn't mind helping you out with your collection's restoration. I feel a weird sense of... camaraderie, in that regard? Vulture to vulture communication, you know?" Maybe Mephis did. Actually, he probably really did - just like Saren did know where to get the... required materials, for his interests. The urge to start bringing the Captain cool trinkets and stuff like some overgrown, alien cat would bring him dead mice, was real. "Poetry? Do show," Saren encouraged, to then squint his eyes slightly, his gaze lifting ju-u-ust slightly up. "And, uh... just a quick question... what happened to your hair?" Ah yes, something he noticed immediately upon his entrance, but for some reason didn't have the guts to immediately ask. And while dark-hair did suit Mephis fine, it was still something very alien (heh) for him to see - green eyes occasionally lifting themselves up to look at the top of Mo's head, as if expecting the man to suddenly change his hair color back, like some weird humanoid chameleon.

Yeowch. "What happened to my hair? Jeez, does it look that bad? Allan helped me dye it," he said, trying not to think about the experience too hard. Not that it was a bad experience - quite the opposite... "Not sure what you mean by helpin' me out, but I'll take what I can get. The poetry is - here, look," he said, showing Saren the black leather book of Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven", engraved with gold lettering and an image of a raven atop a human skull in front of the Terran moon, and a golden spine with fancy engravings, as the description far up above said. "There's this Terran guy apparently my secret santa, whoever they are -" Though he had a feeling of who it might be - "Thought I might like the work of, does writing and poetry, and this is one of his... Well, sort of a long poem, which is a lot like a short story, in a way. Sorry if this sounds like a stupid idea, but honestly I was gonna read it aloud to my cat, so you could, uh, listen, if you wanted?" Saren would probably appreciate it a lot more than Bandit would. She was lovely, but her taste in literature was not sophisticated.

Ah, shit. "No, that is not what I meant," he shook his head, an apologetic look on the Romulan's face as he went on with his explanation, "I am just surprised. Admittedly, I grew to associate you with the color red, but the black does suit you well too. It's just... rather unexpected of you, to, uh. Have your hair dyed." Allan was behind this? Huh. What a... funny coincidence. "By "helping you" I mean "bringing you dead stuff," of course," he replied in that typically deadpan way of his, meanwhile mentally slapping away the rather pesky memory that decided to suddenly resurface in his brain. "Consider that my, uh. Way to show my friendship and respect. Yeah. It's the Rihannsu way, obviously." Saren focused on the book, quickly recognizing both the raven on the cover and the name of the Terran author - and forced down a tiny smirk that threatened to appear on his lips, because Captain Mo holding a book of Poe's work was an all too fitting image. Hell, they even rhymed, sort of. "I don't see how that is a stupid idea. Poetry is often meant to be read aloud, no?" Saren then glanced at Bandit, amusement seeping into his voice, "If the little lady doesn't appreciate the arts, I certainly don't mind to be your audience."

"Unexpected... Well, that is the way my life is whenever Allan's in it, I s'pose." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Feel free to bring me dead stuff, then, like a Terran cat. I'll see what roadkill I can scrounge for ya in return." Not literally, of course. There weren't even roads in space. He opened up the book, skipped past a foreword and contextual information he'd rather read afterwards, then cleared his throat and began to read aloud in a low, raspy, yet soothing cadence:

06:23

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more...”

A message popped up.

To: Mephistopheles Mo From: Saren tr'Lareth-Morvar Are you currently busy, sir?

(edited)

To: Saren tr'Lareth-Morvar From: Mephistopheles Mo Nah, just chilling with Bandit. You wanna come over?

To: Mephistopheles Mo From: Saren tr'Lareth-Morvar I will arrive in 20 minutes.

[D] And that he did, somehow managing to make the buzzer's gentle chirp sound very hesitant. The Romulan behind the door appeared in his civilian clothes, arms crossed, fingers locked around them in a white-knuckled grip. Green eyes, as soon as they saw Mo, widened ever so slightly, before Saren lowered his gaze to the floor, suddenly at loss of what to say or do. Despite the fact that it was him who sent Mo the message (after receiving enthusiastic encouragement from his dad, to whom Saren finally cracked and spilled his heart out about what had happened during the fair, and even the encounter with Valak), fully expecting the Captain to reply... Saren still froze up as soon as he heard the message notification. The reply was... easy. Too easy, and a tad too casual, for a reply to someone who had previously come very, very close to killing the man. "... Captain," he finally uttered, the word sounding less than a respectful but warm nickname that Saren somehow came up to use for Mo, but as exactly what it was supposed to be used - a title, "I came to apologize."

"Apology accepted," Mo said immediately. He knew this was coming, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was about. "Not that you have to apologise. You're prone to blamin' yourself for other people's mistakes. I ain't gonna enable that." He looked down at Saren's legs, where Bandit was meowing and rubbing up against them. "I don't know if Bandit's forgiven you, though. She missed you." 'And so did I', he thought. "Come in and have a drink," he said, stepping out of the way so Saren could come in and approaching his coffee machine. "And say hi to the isopods. Doubt they missed either of us. Brains too small."

Bandit's appearance in his field of vision... it didn't startle him, but the Romulan's reaction could be described as sort of a belated surprise. The feline acted... welcoming, for the lack of a better word. Unaware of the damage he had done to her owner. He forced himself to walk in, careful not to accidentally push Bandit, as Mo's immediate response threw him right off his carefully sorted out thoughts and pre-arranged words, slapping them down like it was a fragile house made out of cards. Irritation, his new and near constant companion, reared it's ugly head again: "With all due respect, sir, the issue is not that simple," did he sound like a Vulcan? A bit, yes. Forcing his emotions down, to try and help Mephistopheles understand the sheer magnitude of his fuck up - or maybe that was the man's own way of dealing with all of this? "Last time I checked, science officers were not allowed to carry weapons with them. Because I neglected that rule, the series of events that have transpired were allowed to happen. And my direct involvement certainly does not help the case." Dehumanizing himself, talking about himself in that peculiar tone of voice one would use to describe some sort of an experiment subject - it made all of this easier, somehow. The Romulan stopped in the middle of Mo's quarters, as if he suddenly forgot where he was going, just... watching the human turn his back towards him as he worked the machine. Utterly fucking irresponsible by his species' standards. It made Saren's skin crawl. "Not to mention the lasting impression these events have left not only on those who were involved, but on the public in general," he continued, staring down some particularly interesting but non-existent point on Mo's floor. "My actions should've been more responsible that day."

Mephis raised an eyebrow when Saren said the issue wasn't that simple (also a very Vulcan action). As though he wasn't aware? As though he hadn't spent as much time going back through the events and analysing what he could have done differently as Saren had? The coffee machine made a low hum as hot water poured into the cup. "Sounds to me like you've learned your lesson and you won't do it again in the future," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "I don't think there's anything I can say to you about it that you haven't already said to yourself. So what do you want from me? To hate you? Punish you personally?" The words in his mouth tasted as bitter as his imminent coffee. "Yeah, you stabbed me - well, Nirral did. It hurt a lot. But I'm not gonna hurt you back. We don't need any more pain to come outta all that. And there's no point pointin' fingers. There were a lot of factors that lead to what happened; we're understaffed in Security, for one. That mighta bloody well helped. That's an issue I'm still resolvin', and I could've assigned what we have to protect Apél... Not that I could'a predicted a ghost, but this is a diplomatic Starbase and Admirals can have political enemies. And then there's the matter of my own physical weakness..."

11:34

He sighed and shook his head, then turned to face Saren, ignoring his coffee, walking slightly closer and standing up as tall as he could. "This is my Starbase, and what happens on here reflects on me. But I ain't gonna sit here chastising myself about it, nor am I gonna listen to you doing so, so if you've come here to self-flagellate and make me watch, then -" He grit his teeth and swallowed his words, suddenly realising his chest felt tight, and kind of painful. Phantom pain from the stabbing or pesky human emotions? He wasn't sure. He touched his chest, hand over his heart, then gripped the fabric of his black turtleneck, which bunched up. "...Sorry. I should be playin' the stoic captain right now. But fuck, Saren, I'm tired. I can't do it. Not around the closest friend I have right now, no matter how much you may be tryin' to distance yourself from me." Which hurt way more than any stabbing. That wasn't something Saren chose to do, but trying to pretend like Mephis hadn't hugged him and seen dinosaurs with him and read poetry to him on Christmas? That was Saren's choice.

Learned his lesson? Fucking... The coffee machine's low hum resonated in his skull and made his jaw hurt. He clenched it, Saren then realized, so tightly he may have been able to bite through a bone if there was one in between his teeth. When did that happen? Did he come over here like this? Or did it happen during Mo's talking, making a good point, but also walking over his reasoning almost... almost fucking dismissively, as if his possession of a murder weapon was just a fucking accidental oopsie on his part. Saren unclenched it with a sharp exhale, air escaping his lungs through his nose with a hiss, and as soon as Mephistopheles turned and started walking closer-- "Don't," he whispered a warning, stepping back, shoulders hunching over himself protectively, expression stuck somewhere in the middle of surprise at his own actions and guilt at the display of such weakness. He continued, after a few rapid, unnecessary blinks, voice rough but at least it now sounded somewhat like Saren usually did, and not like the toneless parody of himself Mo was listening to mere moments ago: "Then fucking what? Leave?? I can d--" And abruptly he stopped, as soon as he saw the Captain flinch. x_divider

14:22

A couple of things happened - The Romulan took a few quick steps closer, arms half-raised, body moved by his near instinctual need to check if everything was alright and well with his friend, but then he remembered just what had happened the last time he approached this same friend with the same quickness in his steps, and Saren stops with a sharp inhale, freezing up, gaze transfixed upon Mo's clenched hand over his chest... That's one of the spots he hit, wasn't it? He clenched his eyes tight shut, hands completing their motion just for his palms to cup around his nose and mouth, and then he just... stood there, taking deep and measured breaths, until the aftertaste of iron had finally subsided. "... I just did what seemed right," Saren finally forced out, choked up. "But it doesn't matter what I do right now, everything won't be good enough, everything will end up in a fuck up. If I walk around I'll remind those who were present there of what happened. Guilty, not guilty, it doesn't fucking matter - it's not the dead and gone who people will remember and associate this... all of this with, it's me. But if I distance myself, apparently it's still fucking bad! What the fuck do all of you want from me, then?.." Finally he opened his eyes, a glossy, thin sheen of tears blurring up his vision: "I fully expected myself to be thrown out of Starfleet. But instead I got a look of pity and a pat on the head - and somehow that is worse. Somehow, in all of this fucked up equation, the one who will get any sort of consequences from all of this is the Commander, who had nothing to do with all of this. I... I can't stand the idea of being anywhere near others, Mephis. I can't... I..." He wasn't looking him in the face. Instead his eyes returned to the hand on Mo's chest. "I am terrified of the evil I am capable of."

He desperately wanted to go over there and hug Saren. It was almost like a magnetism. But then there was a wall blocking him: 'don't'. Unstoppable force, immovable object. Bandit walked over to him and rubbed up against his legs; he picked her up. It wasn't quite hugging Saren, but it helped him swallow a sob before it could surface (and it blocked Saren's view of his chest and replaced it with fluffy cat, which was a bonus). Saren's shiny-eyed near-tears were contagious. He blinked rapidly, then sighed. "Everyone's capable of evil. I grew up with pirates; I ain't talkin' outta my ass. I know what atrocities people are capable of." Sometimes being human tricked people into thinking he was from the privileged utopia of Earth, but he wasn't. His childhood had been... Unorthodox. Truthfully, pirates wasn't exactly the right word, but it was easier to put it that way. "But I trust you and know you're capable of great kindness, and Starfleet can't just set a terrible precedent for everyone else who's ever been forced or coerced into doin' things they don't want to by kickin' you out. Nobody wants you to lock yourself away and never see anyone again. I just want..." For everything to go back to normal. That was why he'd gone back to work so soon, why he'd immediately accepted Saren's apology and tried to offer him a drink like this was a regular visit. He thought it might be a relief for them both... But maybe that was selfish of him. How could things ever be normal for two friends when one of them had attacked the other? The hope that once he talked to Saren he could just resume his life as usual died, and he looked down at Bandit's wet fur and realised despite his best efforts, he'd shed a few tears after all.

16:32

He always thought moments like this were odd. On the grand scale of things, he'd been in much worse situations and he hadn't cried then. But then there was usually some external threat or problem to deal with, and it wasn't usually so personal, and right now there was nothing to distract either of them from their feelings when they were just standing in his room with no company but one another, a cat, approximately 22 isopods, and the smell of coffee beans. He still hadn't had a chance to ask Saren what he'd like to drink yet. He put Bandit down, who trotted back over to Saren again and headbutted his calf, and wiped his face with his sleeve. God, he probably looked like a cat caught in the rain right now. Not very captainly, but it was hard to look professional when you were this upset. "I just don't wanna lose you," he said, trying not to sniffle like a pathetic little victorian orphan boy with the spanish flu. He wondered if this was just one of the times in his life where his bad luck decided he'd had it too good for too long and he needed something taken away from him forever, like when he got stuck in cryo. "I know you're scared. I'm tryin' my fuckin' best to be here for you, Saren." He tried to think of something smart to say. Some set of words that would solve all their problems, something a Captain would say. Unfortunately, all he could say was: "But I am too." He'd failed - instead of being a Captain, he was being a person instead.

Mo was crying, he realized. He made Mo, his friend, his Captain, cry. What an achievement. "Do you want to know just how fucking kind I am?" he uttered, voice wavering, "When Nirral... took control, I felt... I felt everything that he did, for all of those decades he spent being like... like that. His grief, his pain... and what did I do? I fucking empathized with him. Probably encouraging him further, to... to..." Unlike Mephis, Saren couldn't hide his distressed sob. He was always an emotional person, and a Romulan one at that - and his people felt passionately and deeply, and in that moment, he felt like his fear and grief were tearing his heart apart with claws and teeth, hungry, angry. Or, was it his own phantom pain that was acting up, spurred on by his distress? He couldn't tell. It was all to muddled. "Gods, you... you were probably so fucking scared," Saren used the heel of his palm to wipe away a few tears, only for them to be replaced with new ones, "I know what it's like, I've been in your place-- and now, a-and now I've been on the opposite end of the knife. I've been... I've been used, for horrible violence, and I had to watch your life s-slip between my fingers, and people around me were so, so terrified..." What the fuck is wrong with you, he remembered Bright asking him, his memory of the redhead's voice distant, disgusted. A lot of things, he would reply and provide the full fucking list, if he was capable of any sort of coherent thought in that moment - maybe, probably beginning with the moment he was fucking conceived, and his bloodline decided to play a cruel joke on him, and-- x_divider

19:39

Bandit's bump against his leg didn't allow Saren to slip away further - he blinked, looking down at her, perplexed at the kindness animals have been continuously showing him. But, nonetheless, he slowly squatted down, still sniffling, still a full fucking mess, to then attempt to pet her - or rather, he just offered her his hand. Which was shaking, he noticed. "And I almost lost you," he echoed Mo, finally lifting his watery gaze to look at him. "The whole station almost did. And I... I don't know what I would do if you... if..." He exhaled something wheezy and painful sounding, getting choked up on grief and the horrifying alternative that had almost happened. "I was doing so well," he continued after a brief moment of silence, during which he tried to recollect himself, somehow. "I want to be... I want to be normal again. To interact with people, for them not to be afraid of me, distrustful of me. I feel like I just... lost all of that. It... I've dealt with worse, and yet this time, it feels so... fucking hopeless. I want to be just a normal person who is capable of touching someone without the thought that it can end badly for them." And then, with a heavy, reluctant sigh, Saren looked up at Mephis again, head hung low: "Please, be honest... are you, in any way... scared of me?"

As Bandit bonked her head against Saren's hand and purred, Mo rubbed his eyes some more, but managed not to shed any more tears. For now. "First of all, empathy ain't a bad thing. It's important to seek to understand why people do the things they do and help them when you can. The incident with Kerutep proved as such. Your capacity for empathy is somethin' I've always admired." He stepped ever so slightly closer. "I'm not scared of you. I told you - I trust you. Maybe to a Romulan that seems stupid, but hey, I ain't a Romulan. But even if I was scared... You would be worth the effort of learnin' to trust again, Saren." Mephis got on his knees so they were at eye level and held out his arms. "Let me prove it to you. If you get close to me, if you touch me - I promise I won't flinch." He looked away, rims of his eyes and cheeks red, burning with tears and shame of what else he was about to admit: "Also, maybe I just really need a hug right now and I'm bein' selfish. You don't have to indulge me if you don't want to." Asking for a hug. They'd done it before, but why did it feel so awkward and vulnerable this time? Probably because of the crying.

But wasn't it his empathy that had him dying at the hands of a mad man, all those years ago? Wasn't it his empathy that left him bleeding, scarred, inside and outside? According to the one who did this to him - yes. Yes, it was. It was weak, and it got him punished. Saren's palm slid over his side, his heart, feeling the ugly scar tissue that wasn't really there, but somehow his mind chose to imagine there be. But... maybe it was okay. Maybe the words of a human, who had shown him kindness and understanding continuously, should have much more weight that the ones of a disgraced Romulan, stuck in the past. So when Mo took a step closer to him, Saren didn't shy away. Instead he swallowed down a pathetic sob, and asked, voice tight and too young sounding: "I would be?.." he shuddered out a sigh, and then mirrored Mo by leaning forward, until his knees were pressing against the floor. "That's... that's one of the nicest things someone has ever said to me." He then, too, rubbed his eyes, just in time for Mo to offer the hug. Saren sucked in a breath, giving that gesture a careful, thoughtful look. Slowly, oh so slowly, he leaned in further, until his forehead was pressed against Mo's chest; and, as soon as he had felt the physical, real evidence that the man before him was alive - his warmth, his movement, his heartbeat in that slower, calmer rhythm humans had - he let himself break down, as relief and longing for real, physical touch flooded him like water would a broken dam; Saren threw his arms around Mephis and hugged him closer, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the stress and pain and grief and relief painted his face with fresh tear tracks, no doubt leaving stains on Mo's clothes. He tried to say something, but it came out as an incomprehensible, muffled groan. Probably another apology. (edited)

Mephis slowly, slowly brought his hand up so he could gently, gently press it against the back of Saren's head as the Romulan sobbed into his chest, encouraging him to stay there and let it all out. His other arm was underneath one of Saren's, wrapped around him and holding him tight. It hurt his heart to see Saren like this, but it was also in its own way reassuring that Saren felt safe enough to do this - and the warmth was comforting to him, even if it was a bit wet. He held Saren and over time he hugged him tighter - not to a suffocating level, but trying to bring the warmth of another person as close to himself as possible. He'd needed this as much as Saren had; his only experience of close physical contact over the last week being getting stabbed had left him wanting of more comfort than Bandit could provide and he was grateful to finally be near someone who wasn't hurting him. Eventually his knees did get a bit sore from the position they were in, but for Saren, he would bear worse pain. "See? Not scared at all."

As soon as he felt the gentle press of a palm against the back of his head, Saren, if possible, started to cry harder, feeling his whole being shrink and cram itself closer to the offered tenderness; were he capable of making any sort of coherent thought, he would be at least a bit embarrassed of such a vulnerable, emotional display - but it was no secret that his kin felt everything passionately and deeply. And right now, the volatile concoction of what Saren had repressed since the events that had transpired was spilling out, clawing it's way out of him like some disgusting fucking monstrosity, leaving him feeling empty and dizzy and light-headed. Even by human standards, Mo was cold. Saren made the effort to press the man closer to himself, trying to give the Captain the warmth that was almost stolen away from him, and more. "'m s'rry I raised m' voice at you..." he croaked out, voice scratchy and muffled. "didn' mean it..." After that Saren took the effort to just breathe, trying his damn hardest not to sob at Mephis saying that he, indeed, was not scared of him. Did Mo even know just how much that meant to him?..

Even though Saren was crying, that there was little other noise in the room except the quiet mechanical whirring in the walls that was hard to pick up unless you grew up trying to keep up with a bunch of dish-lobed Ferengi who could hear a pin drop. It was comforting to Mo. He always had to be doing something - answering emails, fixing something, writing notes, drawing, feeding a tamagotchi, playing tetris; one of the reasons he liked retro tech was all the little gadgets had buttons. Machines in Starfleet also had more buttons than Earth tech, though - everything was built to be bigger and hardier, with wires and parts you could fix with tools and not a super precise microscopic laser or however these things worked. He knew, but the onion puppetmaster controlling him didn't. Anyway, the point was that he was always restless. Even now he ran a hand through Saren's hair. It was a symptom of a larger problem. He liked tetris because it never technically ended; he always had work to do, making the blocks line up... But at some point, he had to stop playing this endless game and take a holiday or something, but for now this one small cathartic moment of peace would do.

03:17

"It's fine. I ain't intimidating by a little yellin'." Actually, he wasn't intimidated easily at all. Comes with most people being taller and tougher than him. Can't just shit yourself at all of them if they yell at you. Oh, right, and he grew up with pirates (sort of). That increases your tolerance for dangerous people a bunch. Good skill to have in Starfleet. "I... Fuckin' forgot my coffee, damn." He used one arm to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. Crying again, and not over lukewarm coffee. Mostly because Saren just bursting into tears had felt so vicariously cathartic he was tempted to do it himself, but something was holding him back - some hidden rule about it being rude to cry when someone else just had, or something? Some sort of attempt to conserve his... Stoicism? Was he even a stoic person? Bit late for that either way, innit? "You sure you don't want a drink now? S'good after a nice long cry." Talking from experience, though his experiences were usually alone. He had to make his own coffee afterwards.

The soothing motion of a hand running through his hair was familiar, comforting. He always managed to find safety in such a simple gesture for as long as Saren could remember himself - and now, it helped him concentrate on his erratic breathing, as he tried to take it back under his control, finally himself enough to try and calm down. And soon the occasional gasps quieted down, his lungs once again capable of making deep, measured breaths. The fog where his brain was supposed to be slowly dissipated, and the dizzy, empty feeling had eased it's iron-fingered grip on his mind. The now quiet Romulan slumped slightly, suddenly feeling so... tired.* "I know. I don't know if that is good or bad though," *Saren rasped, no longer muffled as he turned his head so that he was now resting his cheek against Mo - which, maybe, was very unprofessional, this whole situation was, but who gave a shit? It did not matter. What actually mattered, was being repaired, mended. "You know that you're... allowed to be upset about this, Mephis? The situation, I mean. You are allowed to feel through it, too..." Saren gave him another tight hug, his body now shifting slightly, wanting to provide the same comfort his daehlen did. After all, he knew a thing or two about surviving such things - and Saren wanted to make sure that Mo would be fine. ...Maybe, in the end, they all would be fine. A silence of consideration followed Mo's offer, which then ended with a reluctant nod of his head, "Tea, black. If that is, hm, fine."

Ah, fuck, now he had to go make tea, but almost being given permission to express himself more was making him want to do so very loudly and snottily. He swallowed thickly and replied, "Yeah, I know, it's just... Fuck, I feel like something like this happens to me every couple of years and I oughta be desensitised to it by now, and I am a little bit. It's like I'm just toein' the line. Would you believe bein' stabbed isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me?" And then he let go of Saren and stood up, grabbing his coffee and just staring at it blankly. He was usually a very capable and organised person, but suddenly he couldn't even think of what the next step was to reheat this coffee and make Saren tea, and somehow small moment of inadequacy was what pushed him to dig his face into his elbow and sob. "Maybe..." He sniffled. "Maybe we should use the replicator." People may have opinions about whether or not replicators made good that properly, well, replicated the real thing, but it was undoubtedly true that when you were suffering from depression or dysfunction, it was a relief to just be able to tell a computer to make you a meal and then it just happens without any extra steps. Still, it was embarrassing to not be able to use the device he made specifically for this because his puny human brain decided all his brain cells were going to the emotional centre of his brain and nowhere else suddenly. (edited)

As Mephis let go, Saren took his time to straighten up, wiping his cheeks and the corners of his green-rimmed eyes, the last of his distressed sobs dying down as he gave his friend a worried, sympathetic glance: "I can believe that... after all, the same could be applied to me and what happened, if you think about it. Doesn't make any of this easier, though..." He then stood up, letting out a surprised "woah" when he swayed slightly, feeling the lightheadedness from his emotional outburst catch up to him. Nevertheless, he continued: "Sure you could grow desensitized, but... even then, you will never stop feeling the emotions, no? And maybe, that isn't so bad? I-- agh, sorry, I can't really put my thoughts in proper words right now, it's... too much." Seeing Mo loosen up like that... it was both hurt and a relief. "I am in no way forcing you to bawl your eyes out right here and now, but... you're certainly not prohibited from doing just that. You're not the Captain right now, you're... Mephis. My friend. My daehlen, who... who I am very glad to see alive and breathing before me." Saren then slowly, carefully, still wary of making the wrong move, put both of his hands on Mo's shoulders. Then, if the man didn't object, he gave them a careful squeeze, wordlessly trying to tell Mephis that he was here for him, just like the human was for Saren. "Or, maybe, we should just sit down. I can get the tea myself, but I would rather just... sit and recollect myself some more." Perhaps with another hug. Because right now, it was something easy, and comfortable, and mutually beneficial to do.

When Saren put both his hands on Mo's shoulders, Mo mirrored what Saren had done earlier, gently resting his head on Saren's chest and closing his eyes. He did cry, then, but... It was not loud. They were the quiet sobs of someone used to hiding his pain - which he was. When he was younger, sharing bunks with all the other employees of the Vulture, considered one himself even though he was just a child, he often had to quiet his cries or he'd get in trouble for disturbing the others. The only person willing to comfort him had been someone who wasn't even an adult himself. After a minute he pulled away so that they could go sit down on the couch, and once he was there, sitting next to Saren, he wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve, then did a long sigh. Despite everything, though, he felt kind of good in that post-cry catharsis kind of way. "Thanks... For bein' here, daehlen." He actually did know a decent amount of Rihannsu, though his pronunciation was in his weird Cockney-Ferengi accent so he wasn't sure how legible he was, really. "I - oh, hi, Bandit." Said cat had been patiently bonking her head against his leg while he was crying and now that they were sitting down, sought to comfort him by sitting on his lap... Or maybe it was just a good nap spot. He gave her a scritch on the head. "Well, now I'm trapped. Do you wanna watch a movie or somethin'? They made a bunch of Jurassic Park sequels, y'know. Their quality is, uh, varying."

As soon as he understood that Mephis was having his quiet cry, Saren, overcome by the sudden protective urge, curled his arms around Mephis’ shoulders further, until they were resting on the human’s back. He pressed Mo closer, hovering over him like some giant bird over it’s nest, head hung low as he started to ever so slightly rock back and forth, motion barely there but still noticeable enough - it was something that he inherited from his dad, who did that to him whenever younger Saren was upset (which happened all too often in his early teenager years). And then Saren did this with his siblings, whenever they needed a good cry. The sudden return to this motion so closely associated with comfort, the sudden instinctive need to give it, to soothe, placed a bittersweet sort of smile on Saren’s face - small, yet there. He stopped when he felt his friend stir, and followed Mephis to the couch - suddenly very aware of the silence in the room. Truly, a cathartic experience. Hearing Mo, a non-Romulan, use a Rihannsu term right back at him, made Saren’s heart heavy - in a good way. Though, at this point, the lines of “this is a friend but a human” and “I have basically adopted this one, even if he doesn’t know about that”, were blurry at best. “Of course. I can say the same to you.” Bandit’s arrival was welcomed - Saren gave her back a gentle pet, glad that Mephis had this little creature, just… There, for him. He then looked up at the redhead, having to take a couple of seconds to comprehend what was said: x_divider

18:46

“Oh, hm. If you don’t mind me having an occasional chuckle about the deaths of varying amounts of silliness that seem to persist through the franchise… I don’t see why not?” Because… that would be nice. Even if he may nod off during the movies - because holy shit, did the confrontation and the conclusion take a lot out of him - he wanted this normalcy, just as much as Mo did. And, fuck, maybe the movie series about scientists being very dumb with prehistoric creatures, was a good start for that.

[D] Allan had just gone through the corridor with a bass guitar (outside of a case) strapped on his back, and a large box in his arms, and... that suitcase he had with the light-up wheels rigged up in such a strange, but effective way to himself through strings and belt loops so that it pulled along with him while he carried the box. And on top of the box was a surfboard balanced so very carefully, angled vertically. What was all this anyways? Just the last of the stuff he hadn't trusted to be transported to the quarters. Sure, sure, he was an engineer and so he should have absolutely known transporter accidents were extremely rare (in fact, he was currently working on a project that would make them even more so), but - these were things he would be absolutely devastated were they to be in such a rare incident. And so, he carried them himself. Thankfully, they'd already configured the doors so that they'd open for him when he told the computer to do so; but the problem was now that of figuring out how he'd put everything -down-. "Uh-" he said aloud, he wasn't really completely sure if Mephistopheles was here at the moment or not, but he would have talked to himself like this anyways, usually, "I really didn't think this through, did I..." Completely referring to the way he would have to somehow set the box down without the surfboard knocking into something but without the bass guitar hitting the floor, and not to the situation at hand in general. divider

07:54

No, Allan had thought that through rather extensively. He hadn't exactly expected Mephistopheles to say that he wanted him to move in after he sent a few silly videos of himself and Eshen 'surfing' in the sand dunes on Vulcan, but hey, here he somehow was. Sure, he was going to ask him about it anyways when he came back, but... well, something just hit different about being told you were wanted by someone before you even asked. That being said, he probably needed to express the same sort of thought, he thought, as he attempted to slo-o-owly lower himself to the floor to place everything down. And, hey, it actually did work. The box and the surfboard on top sat flat on the floor and his guitar had slipped easily and gently off his shoulders, but he had... he had forgotten about the strings that he'd tied the suitcase to him with, and so even though he'd removed the suitcase from them, when he stood back up, it was sort of a catastrophic chain of effects. As soon as he tried to move again, the string caught onto something - a table, an edge of the arcade machine, maybe - and sent him tripping forwards as the strings eventually chose to snap.

Mo had been in the other room playing with Bandit, so Allan had, indeed, been talking to himself. He'd left the room to get himself a cup of coffee, laser pointer in hand and cat scampering behind him, when he saw Allan foward and rushed to him, dropping the laser and grabbing him by the shoulders to break his fall as best he could. He wasn't strong, but hopefully it would be enough to slow Allan's fall that he could put his hands on the floor and stop himself. "You a'ight there, Allan?" He said, smiling at the little mishap as he helped Allan up, by the hand, holding it for a moment before wrapping his arms around him and squeezing, resting his cheek against Allan's chest because yeah, casual hugging was a thing he did now. Then he rested his hands on Allan's waist and looked up at him for a second before he got embarrassed and let go, walking back over to the laser pointer and picking it up, scritching Bandit atop the head and then scratching the back of his red head, a bashful tic. "Let me know if ya want anything to drink. Brought a lotta stuff, I see?"

Honestly, if there was anything Allan was looking for in the split second of falling other than the location he'd try to catch himself in it was Bandit; ensuring that he didn't fall right onto her was pretty crucial. He was genuinely more surprised that Mephistopheles had suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders than he had been surprised by falling, though. "Oh-" he got up, the pure countering pressure of Mephistopheles grabbing him being enough to indeed stabilize him and keep him from faceplanting onto the floor. "Yeah, I-" He chuckled and smiled up at Mephistopheles, grabbing onto his hand tightly as he got up. "Thanks, I sorta, uhh-" and then he was squeezed in a hug, and he laughed yet again, hugged the man back, and then set his hands on Mephistopheles's arms just below the shoulders as they broke apart, and Allan looked at him for a brief second of contemplation before- ah, he'd contemplated for too long, Mephistopheles had decided to go back and get the pointer. "I, uh, you know, probably shouldn't have attached so many string loops around my pants like this, like, I guess I was just asking to be caught, but..." Catching sight of the laser pointer and Bandit again, he took the string off his pants to avoid future mishaps but also to start dragging it along the floor in case Bandit would be interested in that as he moved across the room to where Mephistopheles was. "Mmm, I mean - a lot at once, yeah, but that's - the last of it, I swear." He said as he brushed a hand through his bangs, a move that could often be rather neutral but in this case, seemed to be an equally nervous tic. "Maybe, um... some horchata right now would be great, actually. Something cold, but sweet." A nice evening wind-down drink. (edited)

Bandit was interested in the string, crouching and staring at it with dilated pupils and a wiggly butt before pouncing on it, trying to grab it and claw it to death with her hind legs. Meanwhile, Mo went over to the replicator to get a horchata for Allan, since the coffee machine couldn't make it, and one for himself just to try it, handing Allan his. It was in a glass with one of those silly straws; he thought Allan might appreciate it. "Here ya go. D'you need any help unpackin'?" He asked, sipping his drink. "This is pretty good."

So... Bandit was interested in the string after all. Perfect. Allan felt her pounce down on it and attempt to claw it to death, pulling the string up and around her after a few seconds as he watched Mephistopheles go over to the replicator and make the horchata. Wait, no, two horchatas. And two silly straws to match. "Thanks, oh my God, love the straws, I..." he looked back at the suitcase and the box he'd brought in after Mephistopheles asked if he needed any help with it, taking the glass from the other and giving it a sip. Trying to think of what actually was in those containers as he continued to mindlessly throw around the string in his other hand, the taste of that sweet fucking horchata hit him and he closed his eyes for a brief second. "Mmm, fuck, that's some good..." he looked back at Mephistopheles, chuckling when he met the other's eyes and looked back down at the drink, then back at Mephistopheles with a slight smile, moving his hand with the string still in it to nervously run it through his hair and to the back of his neck. "Uh... it's uh, good horchata, I - it's been a while... since I've had it, uh. You know it's just, uh, real cold and sweet and all ummm... u-unpacking, yeah, I - like I said, this is the last of it," he said, quickly taking his eyes back to the stuff in question, "just the stuff I like, wanted to carry over here myself so... I think I'm good? But I also wouldn't really mind," because now that he looked back at Mephistopheles, he did actually want the help, "actually, so - yes? I think that was a yes or no question at the start?" Didn't exactly remember, but he stopped himself before he became a nervous wreck somehow even though all he'd done was moan at some good horchata in front of Mephistopheles. Which was like, totally normal.

So he did like the silly straws! Ah, sweet validation. And it seemed he also liked the horchata. Like, a lot. That was... Certainly a sound. Mo swallowed thickly, sipped more horchata, and directed his attention to where Bandit was stood up on her back legs trying to swat. Then he looked back at Allan, who seemed as nervous as Mo was flustered, which was unusual. He walked over to Allan's luggage to start unpacking, but got distracted by the bass guitar. He didn't really know how to play it beyond a few notes, but he faced it towards himself and plucked a few notes that resembled a melody. Bandit became very interested in this, so abandoned her previous pursuit and walked over to sniff at the guitar. He gently grabbed her little paw and used it to tap at the strings, which made a very tiny noise, but he seemed amused enough by the idea of Bandit 'playing' the guitar. Then he gulped down his horchata and started unpacking the suitcase, assuming it wasn't locked or something, taking out the first thing he found in it. "You doin' okay? You seem like you're... Meanderin' a bit. If you don't wanna go through with this, it's okay to change your mind." (edited)

After Allan had said that last bit he sort of did the same, sipping at the horchata more and swirling the string around Bandit once more before she trotted over to Mephistopheles and he let go of the string, watching as it sort of trotted along with her for a moment before it fell off of her to the floor. He then decided to follow them both over there, looking at Mephis with a small smile as he watched him pluck a few notes on the guitar. After he watched the other take Bandit's little paw and tap at the strings with it though he couldn't help but giggle, kneeling down next to them both and picking something out of the suitcase too. The suitcase was mostly full of things that were neatly packed- different vases, electronics, and trinkets - like the ornaments he'd made as a kid his parents sent him in December - all wrapped in some various pieces of clothing so they were unlikely to break. "Oh, she's a professional already, look at her go," as if a cat could ever professionally play the guitar. He'd seen many pets go viral for various things - looking back enough, there were dogs that rode scooters, cats that played tennis (or a variant of it, anyways) - but a cat playing guitar? Unlikely, but the world could dream. divider

17:13

Unwrapping what seemed to be a genuine antique PADD from the 22nd century, Allan set it on his lap, and then folded and put the buttoned shirt that had been wrapped around it to start a pile to the side of him. "I'm-" He set the horchata down for a moment to consider what Mephistopheles had just said. Was Allan doing okay? Why was he asking that? Was he trying to ask a leading question? And what did- "'Meanderin'?" He questioned, an incredibly confused look on Allan's face as he looked at Mephistopheles, trying to read a look on his face or something, anything. "Like, do I seem... hesitant, is- is that what you mean? 'Cause, uh..." he looked down and folded his hands in his lap together, looking down at them for a moment before looking back up at the other. "I'm not... hesitant about this, that's... that's for sure." No, it was something else entirely, wasn't it... (edited)

He put away a few things, then stood there holding a vase wrapped in a shirt, tilting his head slightly as Bandit batted at the strings of the guitar, making a dull, barely-audible sound. She was a professional in her own mind. "Not hesitant about this? So there's somethin' else you're hesitant about?" In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but catastrophise. What if Allan no longer wanted the whole... Thing they had together? Whatever it was, he'd at least thought it had been reciprocated, but maybe he was wrong? "Listen, if you don't want to..." He looked down at the floor, then back to Allan, but not quite in his eyes. "I mean, if us kissin' was weird... I get it." He almost said 'I wouldn't wanna kiss me 'neither' but stopped himself. He'd worked out with his therapist, Daffodil, that self-deprecating talk like that never did him any good, and it was kind of shitty for his loved ones to hear, too. (edited)

It sort of eased Allan's nerves a little, hearing Bandit's paws bat at the strings of the guitar- while it made a dull, barely-audible sound when she didn't quite hit them, when she actually hit them there was a more significant, low vibration that came along with it, or a sharper, tinny sound if it was more of a scratch - sort of like pulling back those things they had at the edge of the wall for traditionally opening doors to hit. "...yes? Well, it's - it's funny, I'm like, not, but I am," of course that didn't make as much sense said out loud as it did in his head. However, when Mephistopheles somehow implied that perhaps him, Allan H. H. Allen, kissing Mephistopheles was somehow weird for him, he tilted his head with a smile and then shook his head. "Mephistopheles, if - if us kissing was weird," he couldn't help but laugh just a little. It sounded like such a ridiculous thing, that somehow he'd think that, because - Allan wasn't even sure how to phrase it. Like, if them kissing was weird, he certainly wouldn't have said he wanted to do it over and over and over or, better yet, go even further than kissing as they'd done several times now. "I... I would have absolutely told you that. No, it -" he huffed out a laugh with a smirk, before looking at Mephis again, in his eyes that were almost reflective with how dark they were. "Mephistopheles, kissing you is amazing, first of all, I- what I mean is that..." his expression went from the smirk he'd had to a more soft smile, and yet he kept his gaze into the other's eyes because if he lost it, he'd probably lose his composure all over again, probably. "What I mean is that I'm hesitant to tell you something that I'm not at all hesitant about, if - like, I'm very sure about it, and that's sort of not usual for me? So it makes me... hesitant to tell you, but I- I should... does that make sense?"

Kissing him was amazing? Did that mean he was good at it? He'd never been a good judge of that. He laughed, some of the tension dissipating; at least Allan wasn't regretting what they'd done together. He listened to what Allan said - he wasn't hesitant about something, which was unusual for him, but he was hesitant to tell him about it? Yeah, he needed more context for that. He put the vase down on a nearby table (one of the ones he sat down to draw blueprints for things on, as well as game ideas - one was some sort of holographic tamagotchi you could feed and play with outside the holodeck, one that resembled the fictional tamagotchi creatures, but he'd scrapped it because the original tamagotchis, little round gadgets with the little pixel pets in them, had more charm) and sat on the sofa. As soon as he did, Bandit padded over and hopped atop his lap, ready for pets, which he provided. "Siddown and talk to me about it." And when Allan did, he tugged Allan over by the collar and kissed him. "And since that's so amazin', apparently, there's a freebie." He looked down at his lap, where Bandit purred. They'd done a lot more than this, and yet he was still kind of shy about it sometimes. (edited)

Of course, it didn't make sense. He could word it a thousand different ways in his head and he didn't think any of them would ever really make much sense. No, the best way to make sense was just to... Well, to stop being hesitant about it. He watched Mephis get up with a slight look of confusion before he realized that oh, he wanted him to sit over there now, okay, they were doing that, Allan was doing that, he was - okay, no, yeah, sitting down here would be good and it would be- Just fine, he thought as he felt Mephistopheles tug him over by the collar and kiss him. It would be fine, if that action alone was anything to go off of. "A - a.." he laughed, leaning forward and putting a hand in Mephis's hair to kiss him right back, using his other hand to give Bandit some little scritches behind the ear. "I don't know if it still counts as a freebie if I repaid the favor, but..." He leaned back, leaving his hand on Bandit for a second before using it to hold Mephistopheles's hand instead, blushing (it was a bit strange how he initially kept thinking that holding hands was so scandalous after falling in love with two Vulcans in a row, he supposed), taking a deep breath before he spoke again. divider

15:49

"Oookay, okay, I'm really gonna try explaining this clearly, but I've never - I mean, you know this, I've... never been good with words, but like, I-" with every word he spoke he spoke just a slight bit faster, he didn't entirely notice but it at least wasn't so fast a pace that it was unintelligible. When he looked off to the side for a moment, his hand moved his and Mephis's hand to the side slightly, in tandem. "I said it was unusual because it's... unusual for me to recognize this first? Because it's also unusual for me to even recognize it at all, and, um, like-" another deep breath and his speech slowed down to a more normal pace, although he was still using his hands to talk, his free hand in the air and the hand holding Mephis's swaying to the side or being lifted up or just squeezing it a little every now and then. "Like... I always question it? I always, uhh, debate with myself if it's actually what I'm thinking or if it's something different or if it's just a spur of the moment sort of the thing, but it's - it's unusual for me to like, be so sure of it, to be.. to be-" why was this hard? He knew why, his therapist Stacey had told him alll about why, and yet - he just had to say it. That's all he had to do, because he was absolutely certain that he meant it already, so all he had to was just look into Mephistopheles's eyes, squeeze his hand again a little and say- "In love with you. I- and I-" okay. That was it. He'd said it. It was fine. It would be okay. "I know that I want to love you, and that's ... what's unusual for me, and I - I guess it doesn't matter what, but there's something about you that made me, um, realize that right away. I guess. So, um." Oh geez word salad. How long was that? 2 minutes? 3? Shit. He gave Bandit a little pet again. Cat good for stress.

As Allan talked, Mo's suspicion grew - could he be saying he...? No, of course not. And yet it did seem more likely with every word he spoke. He'd never seen Allan so flustered before. It was also very familiar to him: the going back and forth, debating whether or not your feelings were genuine, or in his case, whether he was just lonely... Even the last conversation they'd had about their feelings had been uncertain, almost a confession in his part, but not quite. In his past relationships (well, his one single relationship) he'd been the one to confess first, which one might think brave of him, but he operated on the assumption that nobody would ever go to the trouble of confessing to him first - that they wouldn't even consider him as an option if he didn't bring it up - and if someone didn't return his feelings he'd rather rip off the bandaid than wonder for years if they felt the same - - In love with him? Had he heard right? His heart stopped, then soared; he took a sharp breath, squeezed Allan's hand back, then made himself breathe in and out slowly, lips parted (a glimpse of slightly crooked teeth), to calm the rapid thumping in his chest and listen to Allan talk. x_divider

(edited)

13:20

He tried to speak when Allan was done, blinking away tears: "Oh... I...' He was lost for words, but not actions: he had the strongest urge to sit on Allan's lap and kiss him silly, but Bandit was already on his own lap and wouldn't appreciate being moved - and he really had to clarify his own feelings first. Still, he turned and leaned awkwardly to the side (Bandit said 'mrrrp', surprised by the shifting of his legs) to hug Allan. "Thank you... For saying that. It feels really... Nobody's ever said they love me first before, but - well, you always find new ways to surprise me, which is why..." He pulled away, but held Allan's hand again. He looked away, but then dragged his eyes back towards Allan determined to look him in the eye. "Well, that is to say, I..." He took a deep breath, sighed, then lifted Allan's hand and kissed the knuckles. "I love you too." (edited)

The last conversation they'd had about their feelings... was an interesting one, one that Allan had absolutely thought about the next day and been like oh, fuck, well, that's ... something. Saying something like, when talking about why he wanted to kiss him, that he wasn't sure 'if it's because I like you or because I just want to carry on this beat where I hold you and kiss you and make you feel loved,' wasn't exactly a non... a non-romantic thing to say by any means. It was, as previously noted, incredibly strange how he seemed to realize that though, so he'd taken the time to debate back and forth with himself. A terrible decision, really - well, not exactly terrible, but it resulted in the same conclusion. So here Allan was, here they were, and Mephistopheles seemed lost for words, was what he said okay? Were they okay? What were they and what would he say and what - The racing thoughts came to a halt when Mephistopheles turned and hugged him, and he took a deep breath and hugged back, laughing when the other had mentioned Allan always found new ways to surprise him. As if it was a good thing. Rarely had anyone told him that, really. He glanced down at their hands after Mephistopheles held his again, and when he looked back he met his eyes again. Allan was grateful that Mephistopheles had stopped what he thought was going to be himself rambling on forever, was grateful for the way he looked at him, and the way he kissed his hand and- And for the way he loved him, he supposed. divider

07:36

Allan breathed, grinning and nodding and the first word that came out of his mouth was, genuinely, "Cool!" Fuck, wait, what? "I- I mean," he started laughing, the blush coming back to his cheeks and getting flustered all over again as he tried to reach for the words in his head, "um, thank you? Yeah, umm, I...." he sniffed upon realizing that maybe he was tearing up just a little - from the emotions, the dust in the air, the laughter - or perhaps a mix of all three. After he stopped himself from laughing, though, he shook his head and his nervous smile became more relaxed, looking back at Mephistopheles with that sort of adoring look he gave him when he did something cool or funny or at this point most anything at all, the sort of look that was accompanied by a warmth spread across his face and a glimmer in his eyes. "I... I don't even have any more words," he laughed quietly and did what did not require language, leaning forward and tangling his other hand in Mephistopheles's hair to kiss him gently, pulling back for a moment to look at him again. ".. if that's alright." (edited)

He let out a small huff of laughter. Did Allan really just say 'cool'? He continued to listen to Allan, a warm smile on his face, and then, after Allan kissed him again, a relaxed, half-lidded one. He looked down to Bandit and realised, as much as he loved her, he'd just been confessed to and he wanted to immerse himself in the moment and in Allan's presence fully, so he gave her one last scritch behind the ears, gently put her on the sofa between them, and, much like a cat, climbed onto Allan's lap and wrapped his arms around him, resting his forehead against Allan's. "It's okay, even though I love the way you say things, whether you're ramblin' on tryin' to explain things, or you can't find the words. I mean, 'cool'? You dork." (Affectionate.) He spent a while kissing Allan on the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the corner of the mouth, the forehead, and other such soft gestures, one of his hands trailing down Allan's shoulder to his forearm until he was holding one of his hands. It said a lot that he was okay with this kind of casual touch now, at least between the two of them, when he'd been so hesitant about giving or receiving it a while ago for various understandable reasons, even though he desperately wanted it - in general, but then from Allan specifically. Now he wanted to do what Allan did for him - hold him and kiss him and make him feel loved.

03:54

"Just forgive me if I'm a bit... Rusty with the whole love thing. The last person I loved with my whole heart, it didn't... work out. Not that they died, just, uh... I did. It's complicated." He was the T'alea to their Allan, though he didn't know it - missing and presumed dead. Their relationship, even when he came back, had been eternally scarred. "I kind of resigned myself to bein' alone forever after that. Even tried to convince myself it was better that way. But truth is, I, uh, really like the idea of... Buildin' a life with someone who wants me to be in theirs. I, uh, don't know if this is a bit soon to ask, so don't feel I'm pressurin' you into anything, but it's best to be clear what we both want, so... Like, bein' in an actual relationship and one day gettin' married and kids... Those are things I want, but I wanna know how you feel about them." This was actually a fairly common first date question, but they were a bit past that. "I actually don't even know how that works when you're also dating Eshen. T'be honest, that's kinda new to me, too." He and Eshen had some common interests (in literature, mostly - they'd had an interesting offscreen conversation about the works of Edgar Allan Poe not long after Allan got him that book for Christmas) and got along decently well, but he doubted they'd ever become a triad or anything like that.

Yeah, Allan really did just say 'cool', didn't he? But the thing is, it was cool that Mephistopheles loved him back. It was cool that Mephistopheles went on and said he loved the way he said things, including his rambling and his trying to explain and not finding the words... it was cool. Even calling him a dork (affectionate) was cool. "It's- all of that, it is extremely cool, you have to admit," he whispered into the others' ear with a small laugh, wrapping his arms around him and giving little kisses back, starting from his earlobe and working down to the corner of his lips, making sure to give Mephistopheles all the affection Allan felt he deserved, too. He rested his forehead against Mephistopheles' again and kept looking into his eyes as he started to talk, squeezing his hand. Mephistopheles had died? Right, yeah, he did. Sort of. That was a whole thing that had happened and Allan had briefly forgotten when he'd heard about it previously. And there was always the risk of it happening again. There was also the risk of the universe deciding it was Allan's turn to presumably die. But... what fun would life be if you stopped yourself from living life the way you wanted - resigning yourself to being alone forever - because of a huge hypothetical? Not very. "I... I really like the idea of it too," he said, "not, um, entirely sure how it'd be in practice, but... well - like, I know I want those things too, it's just, um, well - I think I've almost avoided the topic of kids for the most part because welllll, I'm kind of so young right now I feel like I don't have to think about it? I also, um, honestly, don't think I entirely would be too good at it right now, but um- like I said, the uh, idea is really nice, um... especially with you." He sighed, still smiling. divider

01:09

"But, uh, marriage? I mean, shit," a breath of a laugh escaped him as he smiled and looked to the side, blushing, before looking back to Mephistopheles as if that was a no-brainer of a question. "Yeah, that's, you could say that's something I want, too, um-" in fact, there were a lot of things about marriage that appealed to him. A lot. "As far as uh... how it... works, um- that's... honestly? Right now I just... want to make you happy, you know? And sooo... whatever way that looks like to you, it's - oddly enough, it's kind of new to me too, sooo... we can probably... figure it out together?" He put his other hand on top of Mephistopheles's and held it closer to him. Allan had... really just always gone with the flow, in any sort of relationship, really, and so - yeah, it was something they could figure out together, the three of them, right? Right.

It was interesting to hear about Allan saying he was too young to think about kids; he'd been thinking about it since he was old enough to have them, though he hadn't always been sure he wanted them due to not really having any parents to model his own behaviour on. Different priorities, he supposed. It was also partially that he was older than Allan and so he was closer to whatever the appropriate age was to be thinking about children. Marriage, too, which he'd done once (but it hadn't stuck, obviously). Despite having reached such an important life milestone, he still felt like he was flailing in the dark sometimes - this was his second proper relationship beyond a few fizzled-out dates. Allan probably got more relationship experience in a month than he'd ever had his whole life. Point was, he didn't really know what he was doing, but Allan was right: "We'll figure this out together. Yeah. Though... Not right now." He leaned his forehead against Allan's. "All that matters now is how lucky I feel to have you." He continued to lavish Allan with affection until the other man's shirt was half-unbuttoned and his hair was tousled and his skin was littered with marks, but he stopped there for the sake of the PG rating of this server. Climbing off Allan's lap, he sat with Bandit between them both, his hand buried in her fur. "Speaking of kids," he said, "How would you feel if Bandit had kittens? Little Banditos." (edited)

Despite all that relationship experience, even, this was different. Yes, it helped to have - absolutely it did - but each relationship, each person, each personality, each moment - was always uniquely different, and that changed everything, like each number in a binary code. And God, was Mephistopheles different. And unpredictable. And- and Allan never got to finish these thoughts as Mephistopheles finished speaking and then continued to give him so much of the affection that wasn't all so different from other times - and yet, it still was, in an infinite number of ways. The engineer sort of tuned out for a moment here; his busy thoughts slowing down as he got Lost In The Moment, as they say. He never understood why they called it lost, especially in moments like this - if anything, he felt found. "Well," Allan breathed out a sigh as Mephistopheles climbed off of him, giving him a little parting kiss - "you definitely have me, that's for sure." And man, if that alone didn't make him feel all sorts of kinds of ways. And then he was feeling a whole way different kind of way when the Captain mentioned Bandit having... "L-little Banditos?!?" he said, his eyes widening as he looked at Bandit and tried to decide if she was pregnant or not. He couldn't. He didn't know much about cats, much less when they were pregnant. Pregante. Gregnant. But the thought of Bandit having kittens... was he tearing up? Just a little. divider

04:38

"Um- I've... never taken care of little Banditos- kittens, kittens, um, but-" he laughed, not able to wipe the grin from his face, "I kind of love that? I - I wouldn't mind, if that's what you're asking, um- like, little... little Bandititos and Banditoitos, or uhhh, Banditita?" Okay, now he was just absolutely laughing. And crying a little. Not purely at the thought of Banditos, just that and the residual feelings of happiness from earlier were sort of combining now. "Sísísísísí. Yes." Weird that the UT didn't pick that first one up- maybe it thought it was also a kitten name?

He smiled, even chuckled a little, low and raspy, at Allan's enthusiasm, leaning to the side a bit just to wipe away Allan's tears. "I thought you might like the idea. I've gotta sort out some details first, of course..." Was he un-spaying Bandit for this? Was the kitten daddy another person's cat on the station? Who knows. Those details weren't important. The only thing that mattered was the Bandititos. "Thinkin' of offerin' some of 'em to people on the station... though I would like to ensure they'd be good pet owners, so I'd like to know 'em, or for you to know 'em, or... to conduct pet interviews? Something like that. Do you think Eshen would want one, or d'you know anyone who might?" Eshen kept saying he wanted to get a cat, or a bird, or something called a Pygmy Targ, but he never ended up getting one, so Mo assumed his social life was just too busy for one right now. Can't relate - his cat was half his social life. He also wondered if Saren might like one - or even Dagis? He knew she roomed with Jericho, who had a dog, so whether they'd get along would be a concern, if she even wanted one. He hadn't met Niwa much, but she seemed like she'd be good at looking after a cat, and she had a kid - while they often needed to be taught how to act appropriately around animals, they might end up being good companions. Alizati and Men? Not to stereotype, but most Vulcans he'd met had such a good rapport with Bandit and other cats you'd be surprised to find out they were native to Earth, not Vulcan. Perhaps he could even offer one to his first officer - they didn't speak as often as he'd like, so that would hopefully be an interesting conversation starter.

23:14

"I'm gonna keep one for myself, too - for us, I s'pose, since we'll be sharin' the same space, so 'course I'll give you first pick after me. I was hopin' to look after Bandit and the kits over summer shore leave but I don't think she can have 'em so quickly, so if I get it all sorted by tomorrow I reckon she'll have 'em sometime mid-August." As he scratched Bandit behind the ears and she rumbled like the jeffries tubes near the warp core, he wondered if he could schedule an induced pregnancy with the medical team and book time off to look after the kittens afterwards. He didn't often take time off, but that was how important this was to him. Bandit suddenly lost interest in his petting and decided to mimic Mo, climbing onto Allan's lap and lavishing him with affection, except hers was headbutts to his chest before circling and lying down in the shape of a prawn. "I'm glad you've got Bandit's approval. I love you, but you've got to earn the respect of the head of the house before you can room with me." "Captain's quarters? No. Cat-ptain's quarters.*

"Pet interviews," Allan repeated after Mephistopheles had said the phrase, knowing perfectly well what the other meant but still going over in his own head on what, exactly, a pet interview would look like. The thought made him chuckle as he imagined, rather than the potential pet-owners being interviewed, Bandit being interviewed instead. Which, in turn, made him start laughing as he imagined, for whatever reason, Bandit in a very serious suit and tie, writing very careful notes across a desk from Eshen. "I - we - we'd have to ask, yeah, but," he tried Not To Look at Bandit right now because that'd just make him laugh more and so he simply flashed a smile at Mephistopheles instead as he continued to talk. "I can definitely ask around, too, and um. Conduct any interviews if needed?" divider

03:50

Bandinterviews? Bandititorviews? Allan kept debating what the word would be in his head as he listened to Mephistopheles explain how they'd obviously keep one - maybe two? - or just one, it was hard to tell - of the Bandititos, a small smile on his face as he nodded along. "Is there anything I could-" he giggled when Bandit headbutted him, petting her as she circled around and laid down. "Yeah. It's... nice." What was nice? Hearing Mephistopheles say 'I love you'? Having Bandit's approval? Just being here right now? Maybe all of the above. There were so many things he had to say, eventually - he had to tell Mephistopheles about everything that had gone down on Vulcan and what he'd found from what was T'Alea's PADD, from both a personal perspective and a maybe-Starfleet-should-do-something-here perspective. He also needed to start asking - and subsequently memorizing - all of Mephistopheles's preferences he hadn't already picked up. How exactly the man liked his coffee (black, of course, but every type of bean had different flavors), if he could sleep with the lights still on, if there were any noises he absolutely hated, any temperatures he preferred, any- anything and everything, really. It felt like unlocking another universe, almost.

A pet interview would look like a series of questions, mostly. Do you have any other pets? Do you have any allergies? Have you looked after cats before? What's your favourite kind of cat and why is it Bandit? And if Bandit could speak, she would certainly do an interview of her own, mostly pertaining to how much wet food she was going to be fed per day, minimum 10 packets, and ten times as many head-scratches on the side. Mo had the sudden thought that he should look for any collars that looked like little ties. [D] Through further conversation, Allan would eventually find out that he had no idea different coffee beans had different flavours and mostly just drank whatever generic coffee bean existed in the replicator's system, that he could sleep with the lights on but preferred not to, that he disliked most loud noises except the sound of thunder, and he was used to cold temperatures but vastly preferred sources of warmth like heated blankets, rays of sun from a window pooling on the floor, and Allan's own warm body at night. Eventually, he leaned his head on Allan's shoulder. "Do you wanna watch a movie?" He asked. "I really feel like watching one about cats." And so they watched a cat movie marathon - some cats were in boots, others were singing jelly icicles, others claimed to not dance but did, others were lazy and hated mondays, and some cats were gay. Hooray!

After three or so months had passed, it was after Mo and Allan were both home and were debating whether to play tetris: the board game, cat lady, exploding tribbles, terraforming mars, or the cones of dunshire when Bandit came in from Mo's room and meowed very loudly at them both. Presumably curious, they both followed her in there, where she stood next to a small cupboard that she'd made her den, cleared of all other objects and lined with blankets and other necessities. She was no longer as bowling-ball-pin-shaped as she had been over the months - and looking in the cupboard, it would be clear to see why: Within, there was a pile of tiny, mewling, potato-shaped kittens. Their eyes closed and their bellies were fat and full with milk, and they were an assortment of black and white patterns, including one with a little black eyepatch that was smaller than the rest. Bandit lay down and they made their best attempt to crawl over to her for another drink, but they were clumsy and often fell, then yelled at the ground for ensuring they'd starve forever. "Oh shit," Mo said, leaning down and looking at the little potatoes, "Must've happened when we were out..." He felt a little bad for not being here to offer Bandit emotional support - though that was a little bit of anthropomorphism on his part, since she probably didn't particularly need it either way. He leaned down and compared the size of the runt to the size of the palm of his hand; it was smaller. "It's so fucking tiny..." Definitely not tearing up a little bit. Nope.

[Comms] “Sir, I have found a solution. An airborne chemical agent that has been used to neuter singular Tribbles and smaller infestations. At a scaled-up quantity it may work for the whole station. It has been proven to not harm the Tribbles besides rendering them infertile and to not have any effect on other organisms.”

For anyone reading this in the future, between the last post about kittens and this one there was a massive tribble outbreak on the station and now they're trying to resolve the issue. [COMMS] "Yeah, that's the ticket. What you need to do is send the replicator formula to Ops - they're in charge of the station vents and such, so they'll take it from there." (edited)

Update on the tribble, tribble, toil and trouble - there was a brief time in which some tribbles, including a cannibal tribble, had managed to get into the room - but not only did Mo and Allan manage to phaser most of them, Bandit even killed the cannibal tribble when it mistook her fluffy kittens for a tasty tribble snack and tried to take a bite! Professional little mouser. "Alright - now that that's dealt with, I'm gonna beam to command deck. Allan, you should get to your post too - I'll sort out the kittens." He hated leaving Bandit alone so soon after the birth, but it was necessary. Since this room had been breached, he beamed them - and the isopods, since he didn't want their enclosure breaking and crushing them if the tribbles took over this room - elsewhere, probably either Aenkae's vet clinic or Eshen's room (who was in his quarters, not having to deal with all this because he had the medical excuse of being a Klingon.) "See you later." After giving Allan a smooch, he beamed into #command-deck. (edited)