Star Trek: Starbase 777

Haaahahaha. First message in the new quarters! Anyway, Jack was laying down on his bed, wondering what to do since everything was so catastrophically boring. He rolled around to have at least a bit of sense on what he was doing when he heard his PADD ring. Jolting up, he immediately checked it to see if it was his academy roommate or an old friend, but... His heart immediately sunk when he saw it was the goddamn Station Commander. Oh my god. He was going to die, wasn't he?

Immediately loosening the collar on his uniform, he got up and took a deep breath before putting on his gold trimmed glasses and brushing his hair back so he'd look as neat as possible before heading out. Oooooh my god he was going to die.

Their shared silence was comfortable - for there was no need for words, not when their hands were still linked together, Eshen’s response sending just the tiniest, most pleasant shiver down his spine. You’re a mess, he chided himself, catching the half-Vulcan’s glance, the messiest mess you’ve ever been. He opened the door, and now it was his turn to lead. Green eyes quickly darted around, instinct searching for some sort of disturbance, common sense checking if his roommate was in - Saren would rather deal with the first, rather than try to explain to his human friend… this. That would actually kill the Romulan. Like, to death. “I apologize in advance,” he turned his head just enough to take a peek at the man behind him, all the while making his way to his side of the quarters. “for the amounts of sharp, and, or, dead things in my room. Some ops officers found it alarming…*

"Sharp things?" Eshen grinned, sharp canines glinting. "I do like sharp things. You'll have to show me sometime. Not now, though. Where's your room?" And upon being told, he took the lead again, entering Saren's room, looking around at all the Sharp and Dead Things. "Your room has quite the personality. I'm more fond of life than death, but, of course, I'm still Klingon, so... wa' jaj 'etlh' uchchoH-laH tlhIngan puqloD; jajvetlh loD nen moj. The son of a Klingon is a man the day he can first hold a blade. Romulans and Klingons are quite similar, in many ways." He led Saren to the bed, sat on it, then patted the bed; let the tucking in begin! "Perhaps that's why we get along so well. Now, you should rest - I can't sleep with you like I did before, but I can help you get comfortable, if you'd like?"

“...Oh, um. Over there,” he nodded his head in the right direction, swallowing a sudden lump in his throat. What? No, he wasn’t staring at Eshen’s smile, only now noticing the sharp teeth. That, and the deepening shade of his blush, did not happen. The shelves were filled with various... items, making the room look like some sort of horror shop - or, to a more morbid-inclined eye, a little museum of various curiosities. Amidst the dead things were also Romulan knives - ones that Saren, bless his patience, had to fill out forms for, each and every one to ensure that they were family or cultural relics, not murder stab-stab weapons. “I find comfort, in both. Death and decay is not the definitive ending… it’s just another phase of the existence, as equally mesmerizing as the priceless life,” there was a rare smile on his face. “Guess my own little rendezvous with Lady Death only fueled my curiosity. Specimen preservation is therapeutic to me… and, well, that’s also how I learned about canning food. Which sounds disgusting, but I promise that I don’t put formaldehyde into my peach jam.” The Romulan plops down, letting their hands rest between them. A hundred and one opportunities for him to get stabbed, but in that moment, none of that was troubling Saren; evident in his relaxed body language, the way his free palm curled around Eshen's forearm. “Are you going to pinch me so I fall asleep immediately?..” he asked with a raised eyebrow, the slight smirk as evidence he wasn’t being serious. “But, I… yes, I would like that.” (edited)

'Death and decay is not the definitive ending'. He wanted to comment on the peach jam thing, but he was too preoccupied with that statement. He didn't disagree, but it was oddly fitting considering what had just happened to Elwyn. She was dead, but she wouldn't decay; in fact, she would be fixed, which was perhaps the opposite. She would regain the majority of her thoughts, but the Elwyn that remembered him and Allan would be gone. Did that mean the Elwyn that had spent time with them was dead? He'd never experienced the death of someone he knew before and the fact that he wasn't sure if this counted or not added a layer of unsettling uncertainty to it all. He gave the hand around his forearm a squeeze, moved it away, got up and yoinked the covers out from Saren like a magician pulling a tablecloth, pushed Saren gently onto his back on the bed, and put the covers over him. "Saren... I have a question. If someone has amnesia and forgets their past - even the fairly recent past - did the person that existed in that past cease to exist?"

There was a quiet, surprised "oh" when he flopped - clearly Saren was not expecting Eshen's actions, and yet he didn't fight them; half-lidded eyes soon looked up at him, devoid of their usual spark of intensity. Instead they were calm, relaxed, even his blinking and breathing slowing down. There was also something else in them. Something deeper. "Perhaps they do. After all, you won't be able to talk and interact with that person anymore. By this definition, they are, indeed, not alive anymore." Saren then propped himself up on one elbow, head tilted. "But... to truly die, you need your whole existence to be degraded back into nothingness, to be erased from the known universe. And that existence includes one's physical and mental self, one's legacy, one's memories - and those last two are often shared with other people. So, as long as you have pieces of that person here..." pale hand gently pressed it's index finger against Eshen's temple, only to then slide down to his side, where a Vulcanoid's heart would reside, "... or, perhaps, even here, they're still living on. You can kill a person's body and mind, but you can't kill their deeds and the impact they had on you, on others, and on the world." Something heavy creeps it's way into his half-smile. The Romulan has been there. "One's memories about others are a powerful tool, Eshen. Cherish them."

A strange shiver ran down his spine when Saren touched his temple and his heart. He was not unfamiliar with physical contact, but it was a unique expression of it. "Thank you. That's a small comfort." He should take this advice to Allan and they could both remember her, and then it would be a larger comfort. Perhaps they could perform Heghtay together; both had already seen Elwyn's dead eyes, so they could go to a holodeck and scream at the sky to let the next life know she, or at least one version of her, was coming. Saren's point about her not really being dead still stood, but rituals after a loss helped one process things, and considering recent events had stressed him and Allan both out, it might be quite therapeutic. After all, he may have used Vulcan techniques to suppress his emotions when he needed to, but when it was safe to do so it was healthy to express one's emotions - in this case, the Klingon way. It was an important part of his way of life - that balance between suppression and expression, Vulcan and Klingon and Terran, and even though saying 'let's go to the holodeck and scream' might be a little weird for Allan to grasp - or perhaps not, he was the kind of person to roll with things, and they had smashed a bunch of things for fun that one time - but it was a way of life he enjoyed sharing with Allan and those he loved when he could. He said nothing for a minute, staring at Saren, his slow breathing, his half-lidded eyes, looking peaceful as the resting dead. Cosy. He was tempted to... Actually, maybe he would just go ahead and ask if he could: "Saren, can I kiss you?" A brief, intentional pause, scanning Saren's expression. "On the forehead, I mean." He brushed Saren's fluffy hair away. (edited)

Saren hummed, his hand now resting across his stomach, his body still propped up. He watched Eshen process his words and thoughts in a comfortable, intimate sort of silence that was created between them; a couple of skulls with their endlessly dark sockets for eyes were the only other witnesses to their little bubble. "You probably already know this, but... you should allow yourself to grieve," he quietly added, voice mellow with sympathy. "It's healthy. And... I'm sorry, for whatever has caused you this." He then fell back to silence. On one of the lower shelves, flanked by other trinkets, a small, wood-carved figurine was standing, it's head resting low in it's palms; small, white candles surrounded it, some new, some half-burnt. A subtle, quiet way to mourn, suitable for a Romulan. Saren wasn't looking there, though. No, his gaze was held by Eshen, fixated; the question that soon followed casting a look of flustered surprise and... was it eagerness, on his face? "Oh. Oh," he breathed out, trying his hardest not to lean into the hand on his forehead, like a stray cat that was desperate for affection, "I- ple- I mean, yes, yes, you can."

Eshen smiled and shook his head. "I've already made plans in my head to scream about it with someone, so I'll be fine." He was honestly nowhere near as emotionally repressed as he used to be, and mentally, despite everything, doing pretty good recently. The therapy helped. He looked around at all the skulls and the grieving wooden man and all the other trinkets - why did this faintly remind him of a crow's nest? - then back to Saren. He leaned down, one hand still in Saren's hair and the other on the bed on the other side of Saren, and kissed him gently on the forehead. "I heard that 'please'. You know, there's no harm in asking for the things you want," he said, voice low, still pretty close to Saren, before he sat up, hands on the bed beside him. "There's no shame in it. In fact, I quite enjoy that kind of clarity. I must be going now, though; things to see, people to do." ...Wait, no - actually, yeah, he was going with that. "Think about it, though. What you want." He stood up, intending to leave.

"Good," the Romulan simply nodded his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You can't imagine how glad I am to hear that..." He knew far too many people who would repress that, in some way. Hell, many years ago, he would be one of them. Maybe the fact that he was a child could be a valid excuse, but Saren didn't dwell on that. He simply couldn't, not when his hair was touched like that, a kiss being pressed against his forehead, causing his soul to flutter and turn into something gooey and warm and grateful in his chest; and why did the fact that he was asked for consent for such a seemingly simple thing make him even more flustered, in a good way? The Romulan's eyelashes fluttered, fingers flexing against the bedsheet because the urge to grab the man above him and pull him closer and hold him was unbearable. Was he being needy? Desperate? Was this a bad thing? Hell if he knew, which, in fact, only concerned Saren more, as someone who usually could identify his feelings rather well, despite not always knowing their source or reason. These ones, though? A fucking mess. His eyes opened, focusing somewhere over Eshen's shoulder first, then shifting to look at him, following the Vulcan-Klingon's movement. Saren's mouth moved soundlessly, trying to come up with words, before he sighed in defeat. His head plopped down on the pillow with a soft thud: "I'm... a lot of what I have experienced today has been rather new, to me. I'm not sure, if I should act upon my... wants and urges. Or, rather, I feel hesitant. I want to assume that... those are somewhat normal things to feel?.." Then there's a quiet sound - a chuckle, half-muffled by the pillow pressed against his cheek, as the Romulan looked up at Eshen, spurred on by another short, sporadic bout of boldness: "You're right about one thing, though. I do want."

He walked a few paces away but then no further. He needed to leave, but something was tugging, pulling him back. He looked over his shoulder at Saren. "It's very normal to feel hesitant. Would you believe I feel that way, too?" Perhaps even his need to leave was an excuse. Running away. He could comm Allan and Alizati to tell them where he was and that Alizati should go to Elwyn if he wanted; there was no need to go to Alizati physically, and a quick comm would help Allan not worry about where he was. They still had a few hours before Oleander arrived, after all. He could sit by Saren and talk through their wants if he really wanted.

11:16

...So he did. "It's because it's new to you," he said, sitting on the bed again. "I'm fairly experienced with... This, I think, I'm not even technically sure what's going on here myself, and I don't want to... Move too fast for you. We've built something, ah, beautiful here... Kah'less, that's cheesy, hold on." He cleared his throat. Was he nervous? Maybe a little. "I mean, I'm actually quite prone to hesitance when it comes to changing the nature of relationships." That's why it had taken so long from him and Allan to move from being friends with benefits to romantic partners, to move from something casual and undefined with Nalas, to a realise his feelings for Aella were beyond diplomatic interest and him (wilfully and happily) enabling her exploration of relationship dynamics foreign to her. "I genuinely can't tell if the... Closeness I feel with you is because of the mind meld, or some other thing, or... If it even matters? But it's easy to be apprehensive about crossing boundaries when you don't know what's on the other side." He looked away, sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then looked at Saren again, swallowing something stuck in his throat. "Saren, I..." His next question would be vague and complicated and it was okay if Saren didn't have an answer. There would be nothing demanding in his soft tone, maybe also a little desperate and needy and a fucking mess of feelings himself. At least they would be (even more) united in their confusion. What he really hoped for was that they actually sat down and talked things out and decided how to proceed from here because he didn't want to ignore that Something was different, whatever it was. "Do you want... to kiss me, or something like that, which is obviously fine, or do you want... me?" (edited)

His eyes were slipping shut, mind still restless (unanswered questions swimming through, darting around like a startled school of fish) when suddenly, Eshen’s retreating steps faltered. Saren, too, froze up, his attention snapping back to the man in the middle of his room - wasn’t he leaving? Did he forget something?.. He isn’t left wondering for long. The half-Klingon looked back at him, and suddenly Saren understands that, oh. No. Not yet. And feels almost stupid amounts of hope. Upon hearing the first question, Saren's first instinct was to shake his head no. But that would be a lie, a superficial response. So he nodded instead, with a quiet, "Yes. Yes, I would. I know you would." And that answer, somehow, felt right. As Eshen returned to him, Saren raised himself into a sitting position, hands now resting outstretched on his bent legs. He fidgeted with them, restless, feeling the anxiety creep up on him oh so slowly, an intruder into his slightly fuzzy brain - one that didn't steal his mind's clarity, and the Romulan was thankful for that. Because he would need it. And Eshen's sudden little fumble made him laugh, a warm, light sound, one that made his shoulders jerk and some of the nervousness and unease die down: "Please… Take your time. I have a feeling that, maybe... we can afford that." Funny, because it was Saren who thought that he was moving too fast - his subtle confession so sudden, the urge to show affection overbearing. For a moment, he feels a pang of genuine fear that, somehow, Eshen will... deny him, turn away. Which was a ridiculous thought, considering everything that had happened until now, wasn’t it?.. But when were Romulan feelings ever rational?

17:45

Saren allowed himself to lean closer, drink in every word Eshen was saying to him. Fear easing it’s hold on him, as a new bout of understanding flowed in: “You are as perplexed by this as I am,” the relief was palpable in his voice. He tilted his head, continuing: “For me, our meld was… it was the instance that solidified my opinion about you. That I can give you my trust, that you… won’t abuse it. You know how my kind is with both telepathic shenanigans and putting their faith in strangers.” His gaze softened even more. “I… haven’t felt so safe in years. And, if I were to take my guess… that’s where it all snowballed into the present day.” To Eshen being here, in his little safe haven, sitting so close to him. To them, having this conversation. To Saren to even consider such possibilities for himself. He sucked in a breath, a shaky one. Thinking. Not missing the way Eshen’s voice sounded like - sending his poor heart into a gallop. “I…” why was his throat suddenly so dry? Saren took another gulp of air, and exhaled with a quiet huff. His fingers, he noticed, were gripping the sheet, perhaps to quell the shaking. Quadrant gods have mercy on him. “The long and complicated answer is that… I want this to go as far as it is possible - as long as we both will find it satisfying and comfortable. I feel like I will be happy wherever this mystery takes us, as long as I get to call you one of my closest ones - be it in a platonic sense, or… u-uh…” He cough-laughed into his fist, looking away. Saren didn’t need a mirror to know that he was as green as a warbird’s wing. “The short answer, to both of your questions, is, uh. Affirmative.”

Eshen sighed in relief upon hearing such a definitive answer to his question. "Thank you for the clarity, not just because it's good to know, but because... Well, I am often the pursuer when it comes to these kinds of things. I see someone, I want them, and so I take initiative. But at times, especially with those I'm close to... It's nice to be told that I'm wanted in return." Of course, that didn't happen as much these days, especially with he and Allan who had quite possibly the most equal relationship ever when it came to pursuing and being pursued, but it was still generally the case in his wider social and dating life that he was the one who asked people out, who initiated hugs or kisses... Oh, speaking of - "I feel I would be comfortable doing most anything with you at this point. Like, um..." He put his ungloved hand on one of Saren's shaking hands and cupped his cheek with the other. "...Saren, can I kiss you?" No follow-up question this time; his request was plain & simple. And if Saren said yes, he leaned forward and kissed him, distantly wondering in the back of his mind if Saren had ever done this before - his guess was no, or at least not much, and so he endeavoured to make the experience a pleasant one. It was a gentle kiss, and then another one, and another - and as he kissed Saren his hand moved from his cheek to the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, and he leaned forward slightly until Saren was on his back on the bed and Eshen had him gently pinned down by the wrist above his head, and shortly afterward he pulled away to breathe. "You alright?" He asked, trying to judge if Saren was overwhelmed or if he wanted to continue.

“You are wanted,” he simply stated, because maybe Eshen needed to hear it again. Maybe even wanted to hear it again. And maybe such blunt honesty did make mister subterfuge feel all giddy and funny inside, but that didn’t matter. not really. Not if verbal affection could make the man in front of him feel good. And this time he did lean in, shamelessly bumping his cheek and nose against the palm. Were Romulans able to purr, Saren would definitely be doing that - but instead he let out a content little hum, and replied with a gentle, simple, “Yes, please.” So Eshen kissed him, again and again, and Saren melted, making a small sound in the back of his throat as his nape was touched, and he was being lowered down, down, down, solid warmth following him. He made zero efforts to fight it - he felt no need to do that - instead mimicking Eshen and kissing back, his free hand finding support on his shoulder blade, fingers curling around the white fabric there. Holy fuck, his dazed mind made an eloquent conclusion. x_divider

22:08

“Yeah, just, give… give me a sec’,” he whispered, half-lidded eyes looking up at Eshen as Saren’s brain processed the new sensations the man above just gifted him, his pupils wide and dark, body slack and relaxed. He half-expected himself to feel uncomfortable, being laid out in such a vulnerable position, but the effect was quite the opposite - the Romulan felt safe.* *His hand then trailed off of Eshen’s back, fingers briefly brushing against his neck, as Saren’s palm found it’s place on his chin: “Maybe it’s, ah, kinda redundant to ask, but… can I kiss you?..” And, if given consent, he brought the half-Vulcan closer, Saren meeting him halfway; he planted an equally gentle kiss against Eshen’s forehead, then temple, all the way down his cheek to the corner of his mouth, before giving him a proper kiss - sweet and gentle, like their first session. But, as Saren pulled away, he let his tongue quickly dart across Eshen’s lower lip - an action for which he was quick to apologize: “Sorry, couldn't help myself there…” except the Romulan, with that small grin on his face and a glint in his eyes, didn’t look nor sound apologetic. At all.

"-Ah." He was really going for it, wasn't he? Every other kiss prompted a small noise between a whimper and a sigh of satisfaction, from the gentle affection and from the unexpectedness of it, as he, too, melted. If Saren's intention was to make Eshen feel wanted, he was bloody well succeeding. With people who were inexperienced, he usually had to deal with a little nervousness, but that glint in Saren's eye told him another story, one of secret confidence - and perhaps he should have expected it. After all, Saren technically had been the one to first indicate he'd like to do this kind of thing with Eshen, even if it had been in a vague and awkward way. Well, then... Maybe he didn't need to hold himself back so much. He looked down at Saren with a cheeky grin, pearly canines glinting. "You couldn't, hm? Well, neither can I." The hand that was pinning Saren's wrist let go only so that it could weave its fingers through Saren's and the other hand wandered down to Saren's chest and rested there for now - and the kisses were no longer gentle. That's not to say they were rough, but they were passionate and deeper than a simple lick of the tongue... and not entirely conducive to breathing air, so eventually he had to pull back with a gasp. Then he looked down at Saren, his breathing heavy and his face flushed up to his ears, and asked, "Saren, how far exactly do you want us to go here? Because my mind is going all sorts of places I'd love to take you if you'd like to come."

He surfed on that weird mix of nervousness and confidence, letting it guide him through the new experience; every little sound left an echo of satisfaction in Saren - that, and a weird sense of pride, that he was doing good, that Eshen was liking it. And that prompted him to be brave and tease the man, just a little bit - a plan that not only worked, but also perfectly backfired on him. “Hm? What do you m–” Saren trailed off with a muffled gasp, quickly finding all the answers to his rather silly question and promptly drowning in them. He threw an arm around Eshen's neck, his fingers carding through the man's long hair as his left leg accidentally jerked up, the bedsheet sliding off of it when his knee brushed against Eshen’s side. What a glorious way to die, his sense of humor decided to rear its twisted head, and just as he was about to tap out in surrender, Eshen pulled away, probably taking the Romulan's soul with him. He opened his eyes to stare up, his lungs working hard to push and pull the air out of him. Yeah, no, now he looked like a damn mess, Saren was vaguely sure of that. They should do this again. The question, though, made him pause. His breaths quieted down as Saren's gaze refocused on Eshen, unguarded and shameless. "Tease," he grinned, fighting and losing a battle for self control. "I'll go as far as you take me, songbird."

"Songbird," he murmured. "I like that. Allow me to be a tease for just one more minute." He reluctantly untangled himself from Saren, sitting up, then comm'd Alizati to tell him about Elwyn, then Allan to tell him he was going to be busy with Saren for a bit longer, just in case he was worrying about where he was, holding Saren's hand the whole time, brushing a thumb across it rhythmically. Then he finished up, popped the little Delta off his shirt and put it on the bedside table, and while he was taking stuff off, pulled the shirt off, too. "Alright, carrion bird," he said, "Let's go." [D] And so he and Saren went on a journey, together.

And in a hilariously late way, Jack made his way in and the first thing he did while standing on the middle of the communal living room was to let out the loudest fucking sneeze he could while he skittered into his quarters, jamming out to Dschinghis Khan with his (fortunately) noise blocking headphones.

"Mmmmoskau, moskau, wirf die Gläser an die Wand, Russland ist eine schönes land, ohohoho HEY—" Jack you don't even know German. And you're still rocking that shit. Godspeed, my unholy ginger amalgamation.

Jack was in his personal quarters, ironing his brand new suit with a grin on his face while he kept a hand carved piece of red tourmaline shaped like a rose next to himself. He was so happy to visit a ball for the first time in his entire life, and even happier to let himself dance for the first time since his grandmother died. However there was a slight problem, because who would he dance with? That was truly a mystery, even for him. Sighing softly, he put on a very old piece of classical music called 'The Snowstorm Waltz - Georgy Sviridov' and began humming along, every so often brushing his hair away from his eyes and pushing up his glasses as he meticulously ironed out his entire suit. He couldn't mess this up, not now.

Not being able to contain his memories nor his emotions at bay, Jack stopped for a moment to process the music and feel it go through his entire body, green eyes brimming with tears as he remembered himself dancing along to it with his grandmother. He quickly wiped his tears away and did a little jitter motion with his hands to shoo away that feeling, cracking his knuckles and getting to it once again. He wasn't just a mess-up, he knew he could do this and he could dance a LOT, he just needed the courage to ask someone out! But who in the hell would he ask out?

[PADD] To: Dinam From: Dinam

Saren. Your cousin Syrax tr'Morvar is here visiting from the USS Rapture. -

[D] For all intents and purposes, it was now Christmas in some part of the world and particularly Starbase 777! So, Allan came to deliver gifts, and since two of his friends happened to be rooming together he could knock out two of 'em at once just by visiting here first! Sounded like a sweet deal. So, carrying two medium-sized boxes was Allan at the door of the room, wearing some red short-shorts, some green converse hi-tops with some red crew socks folded over to have the white on top, and a red and green sweater that said "Santa's Favorite Ho" on it becauseee why not? Oh, and a little reindeer headband cause he was all decked out for this! Was it cheesy? Yes! But that was the spirit as he knocked at the door.

[D] And it was Saren who answered - giving Allan an amused flick of a slanted eyebrow, as soon as he saw the man's getup. The Romulan was also, surprisingly, dressed festive - clad in a warm-looking, hand-knitted green sweater with a (conveniently) high collar and an arrangement of reindeer skulls on it, red noses included, looking awfully cheery. Some things change when the new year comes, but not Saren's love for the morbid. "Hello," he greeted quietly, tilting his head slightly. "Spreading the Christmas cheer, I see?"

And Jack popped up right behind Saren to see what was going on, drinking a replicated milkshake and also wearing a hilarious festive getup. He was wearing a red sweater with a Christmas tree - however the decorations on it were just several assortments of geodes and even bits of coal because c'mon, this was Jack. It was fitting in multiple ways. With a grin, he pulled his curly straw out of his mouth after a loooong sip and raised both his eyebrows, "Santa's Favorite Ho, huh? Bet!"

Allan grinned once he saw the two, taking one hand off the boxes he was carrying to give them both a wave. "Heyyy, you know it!" He winked playfully in response to the both of them. "Look at you two, you look great!" It truly was sweater weather season, the three of them exemplifying it so wonderfully. He grabbed the box off the top of the stack and turned it over, looking for wherever the nametag was before he finally spotted it. "I think thiss one is yours," he handed it to Saren and then handed the box underneath it to Jack, "which makes this one for you, Jack. Feliz Navidad 'n all that shit."

"Oh?.." he said, both a reaction to the compliment (the one thing he still hadn't learnt how to deal with), and to the box that was being handed to him. Saren took it, moving so that he was now standing sideways, letting Allan give his gift to Jack comfortably. "Thank you, and-- do you want me, us, to open it now, or?.." Because some people were comfortable, eager even, to see their gift being unpacked in front of them. Some, like Saren, hade a strong urge to book it to the neighboring quadrant, because for some reason, the experience was just too much for his introverted soul to handle. Social anxiety works in mysterious ways, truly.

His eyes widened in surprise as he stared down at the gift, pointing at himself and making sure that Allan got the address right. "Wait... Wait wait wait. That's... For me? A gift for me?" He seemed genuinely surprised as he put his cup down onto a nearby table and took his gift, looking at it with still very wide eyes. For a moment, he was truly speechless as he looked down at it, getting giddy by the second as he lightly shook it to try and pinpoint what it was. He hadn't received a Christmas gift since he was 13 so he was ecstatic to see he had one now! It was amazing!

Allan laughed. "Noo, I just came here with boxes to say Feliz Navidad and give then walk away - yes, for you - oh, don't shake it too hard though!" As Jack shook the box, he'd probably hear a small object rustling around in some crumply paper or something. He turned to Saren with a smile. "Sure! You guys can open 'em now if you'd like, also, I'm offering gift kisses and hugs or whatever too to all my friends, if anyone wants, but uh, mainly the stuff in the boxes," he put a hand at the back of his neck and gestured to the boxes between the both of them. Inside Saren's box was a copy of Vulture Culture 101: 7th Edition, published in 2408. It was a massive fucking book, but inside was everything from various laws on different planets to ethics to specific techniques on preserving dead things as well as pointing to a wealth of resources one could seek out. It also contained full-color photos in its in-depth bone identification and technique guides on how to clean bones, skin, feathers, fur, etc. - also detailing how each technique has advanced over the centuries. And inside Jack's was a large piece of pyrite quartz in the shape of a rhombus, with a small, small speck of ruby towards the right side that you could see if you tilted it in the light just right. It had a small piece of paper inside the box detialing where it was from: the Rio Grande de Arecibo, a river in Puerto Rico near the mountains. (edited)

"Hugs are amenable..." he murmured, a Romulan with a talent for sounding ominous with pretty much any sentence, ever. He carefully opened the box, making sure he didn't rip or dent something, and slowly took the book out, mouthing something suspiciously similar to "ho-o-oly shit"; he lifted his head up to look at Allan, face showing a subtle amount of excitement. "How did you know?" he asked first, because Allan somehow managed to fit two of Saren's favorite things in one, "And, ah, thank you. I'll be sure to take good care of your gift."

And Jack took his gift right after, also carefully opening the box... And literally screeching when he saw what was inside. Taking care not to accidentally drop it, he rapidly put it onto the table and hugged Allan, squealing and making the sounds equivalent of a epohh on drugs. "THANK YOU!!! Oh my fucking god it's amazing, i can't believe it!! Thank you thank you thank you!!"

"Oh, I mean, just asking around and all," and maybe the Secret Santa database, but it was probably a bit of both, to be honest. "If you want a hug, you can have on-" And then he was hugged by Jack who had screeched milliseconds prior. Allan had never heard an epohh on drugs - they got close to it when Brokuk had spilled a certain illicit substance when his own pet epohh was around, but it seemed reasonable to assume this was what one would sound like. "Of course, of course, you're welcome," he laughed so much as he hugged Jack back, the squeals that came out of this man's mouth were just way too amusing. He looked over at Saren and tilted his head to the side, making a gesturing motion with his hand. "Group huug?" (edited)

He squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the loud squeal - Saren couldn't help it really, not with his sensitive hearing, both a blessing and a curse at times. At the same time, he was genuinely glad to witness Bright's excited reaction, the slight smile being strong evidence for that fact. Allan's offer, though, was met with a bit of hesitancy - a reminder of the past. But both of them were considered his friends, and... Ah. Right. No, he could allow himself some vulnerability. Saren shrugged, leaving his gift on a table and then walking up to the two, to gently embrace the shorter humans, giving their shoulders a light squeeze. "One for the holidays," he replied, slightly lowering his head. T'was a Christmas miracle, or someshit like thaf.

Honestly, this was a really nice Christmas already. He had just expected to drop off the gifts and go on to the next, but you know what? Hugs on Christmas morning? From not just one, but two of his friends? Usually they happened towards the evening, so this was a fantastic start. "One for the holidays, yeah, exactly," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around the two of them, using one hand to ruffle Saren's hair just a bit as he lowered his head. Once they had finished this wonderful friendly holiday hug, he stepped back and looked at Saren. "Soooo, before I offer you both coquitos - Saren, I'd be lying if I said I didn't look at the book before I gave it to ya, ya know, even though I don't like, read, I had to make sure it was good, right? And so flipping through the pages I found that there's like-" As he talked, he gestured with his hands and then made a sweeping motion to signify something about 5-7 inches long. "A boning knife? Is that for real, like, what it's called, or ... like, is that something completely different?"

Jack also embraced Allan after Saren had let go, rapidly thanking him for the gift and for being so nice to them. He couldn't believe it still! That crystalline formation was amazing, where did he even get it?! He didn't know, but he was sure as hell grateful for it!

Saren made an inarticulate noise when he felt Allan's palm move in his hair - a gesture he liked, yes, but it came as a surprise from his new acquaintance-friend-person of trust, kinda, not quite yet, sorta. And yet, Saren didn't shake it off - he just gave Allan a slightly incredulous look, one without any hostility in it, rather, something akin to puzzlement. The expression of puzzlement only grew as Allan went on with his question, evident by the way the Romulan's left slanted eyebrow slowly crept up, while the corners of his mouth fought against a smile that threatened to pull them up. "A boning knife, yes," he repeated evenly, probably making it worse. "It's a thin, rigid, pointy blade, used to separate bones from the meat, hence the name. I think I have a couple of those somewhere..." Saren then shook his head, and, yep, he was full on smirking. He couldn't help it really, the question was fucking funny because of the way Allan put it. Damn it. What was he now, a child? "So, yes. It is what it's called, rather, ah, innocently. Are there any other knife-related questions you may have?.."

Jack, who at this point had grabbed his milkshake after letting go of Allan and was now drinking it, damn nearly spat it out as soon as he heard Saren and his 4th grader-esque sense of humor. Out he was, quietly dying and trying not to asphyxiate on his chocolate milkshake.

Allan met Saren's puzzled look with a look he usually gave in response to puzzled looks: a look with a raised eyebrow and slight interest and curiosity, like an unspoken 'yeah?' as they all broke away from the hug eventually. "Yes, a boning knife," he repeated when Saren did, nodding as he listened to the other man explain exactly what a boning knife did. He was rather intrigued by his explanation, so of course when Saren asked him if he had further knife questions, he decided to try and think of one. "Yeah, actually, so um, say, theoretically, could you use a boning knife for the self-explanatory purpose of, well -" he couldn't help but laugh a little before regaining his composure again, "let me put it this way, say that- say that I had a boyfriend who was really int-" and then he stopped his line of knife questioning after recalling once more how he had been told about Saren's existence in the first place, and also that Jack was still here, and also that he thought he remembered said boyfriend saying he would come over and give Saren a gift as well anytime now - he looked at Jack and called out, "You good, dude?" before turning back to Saren with a smile. "So, um, where was I? Oh, yes. Your sexiest knives, if you'd want to show me. If not, I'll settle for any cool knife." He smiled as if it all made sense. Because he always did.

Now it was Saren's turn to almost choke - on air, in his case. Green eyes quickly glanced sideways, towards Jack, both out of worry that the fellow scientist was on the brink of death (again), and to confirm if he also heard this, and that Saren didn't imagine them. Then they flitted back to Allan, squinting, burrowing two identical holes in his skull. Was Allan?.. Oh-h, he question had a purpose, hadn't it? "..." his mouth moved for a bit, soundlessly, before the Romulan had finally found his words, "I would strongly recommend you not to use a blade in, uh... such, um, context, if you don't know how to wield one, confidently and expertly. Also, don't use a blade designed for separating meat from bones, it's... let's say, those cuts hurt in a bad way. You can... trust me on that." Instinctively, his palm brushed against his side, over his heart and scars. Now, why did he feel like he was digging the metaphorical grave deeper for himself? And that god damn sentence, "show me your knives"? Did the human realize what he had just said to a Romulan? Looking at Allan's smile, Saren, with a slight dust of green settling on his ears, had a feeling that the answer was an affirmative one. "... Can I inquire as of why?" Saren asked bluntly, as if giving the man a chance to back away, but also giving himself some time to think, to recuperate. His back straight, eyes narrow, the image of Romulan aloofness.

Allan nodded as Saren explained. It made sense enough, and did enough to answer his question about the boning knife, that was for sure. So it was really... just literal bones on that one. Fair enough, he supposed, noting it down mentally for later consideration. He chuckled at Saren's question, that smile never leaving his face. He certainly wasn't backing away from this at the chance given. "Sure, sure, let me put it another way, I guess, ummm... hmmm.. oh! I'll use your phrasing, how 'bout. So, I'm asking because I would like to, well, 'wield one, confidently and expertly', and I figured ... you'd be a good person to ask." While he was here and the thought was in his mind, that was. The thought that came to his mind, like, a whole minute ago maybe. "And, well, I just sort of wanted to see what you were interested in," he said plainly, and that may have been a mix of innuendo and genuine interest in the other's interests, one of which seemed to be knives. It was hard to tell with the way he delivered the words, which was as he delivered most: with a smirk and small hand gestures in the air. (edited)

Saren looked at Allan's gestures, at his smirk, the Romulan's own expression unreadable. Finally, after a few beats of silence, his head tilted ever so slightly as Saren uttered, "A good person to ask, huh?.." He had to give it to the redhead - the man was ballsy. Saren huffed out a sound, something suspiciously similar to a snicker, to then turn away and walk towards his room - no verbal invitation followed. Upon entering his room, Saren beelined to one of the shelves, picking out a dark, leather scabbard that the Romulan then handed off to Allan - a needle pointed dagger was sheathed in there, it's steel and leather handle shaped like a mogai bird, while it's blade glistened under the slightly dimmed lights, reflecting the ceiling and the room around it, it's ornamental engraving consisting of symmetrical circles and lines. "It's a depiction of Romulus, Remus, and their sun," he explained briefly, assuming that the human had unsheathed the dagger. "Belonged to one of my great-great-ancestors - a gift from her first conspirator, that was rumored to be used later to, ah... get rid of a mutual nuisance." Rihannsu romance do be like that. "It's almost sweet, by our more traditional standards," Saren added casually, brushing his thumb across the sharp edge as if to check it's sharpness. "Most of what I have here, has history - in some way of another. In a sense, Romulans share... almost the same type of fondness for the colder type of weapons, that Klingons do. We're just a bit sneakier about it, like with most things we are." His gaze lifted ever so slightly to look at Allan, thumb still pressing against the dagger, "Did I satisfy your curiosity, or..?"

Allan was about to respond to agree to Saren's question, but the other man had turned and led him to his room- because he didn't really expect the guy to choose just one knife, after all. "Whoa," was the first thing to come out of Allan's mouth when he looked around and up and across at all the shelves in the other's room, simply taken aback by it all. It was like a little museum of stuff! A lot of dead stuff, a lot of sharp stuff... a lot of cool shit! Allan thought a lot of shit was 'cool shit', too be completely fair, but this was pretty up there on the list of 'coolest shit' if there ever was one, just behind techy gadgets and musical contraptions. Saren had just handed off a dagger to him. Did that mean something in Romulan culture at all? He couldn't remember, quite honestly, but he unsheathed the dagger and held it carefully, tilting it gently from side to side to see the whole intricately designed handle, and the way that the handle reflected the lighting - his entire face lit up in awe. He was about to ask whether the engraved symmetrical shapes had any meaning when Saren had explained it - 'Romulus, Remus, and their sun' ... along with the history behind the piece. He was so amazed by it all that he didn't even really have the time to say 'so, is this your sexiest knife, or your coolest knife', he was just... amazed, yeah. "It is," he said as Saren said it was sweet by traditional standards, just still completely amazed by the artifact that was still in his hands as Saren - as Saren brushed his thumb across the sharp edge. "I- it's... really cool to see." divider