Author's Note: Thanks to my friend, Acquanetta, who took quite a bit of time out of her own life to assist me with this revision.
Upon the receipt of the external guest list, Uhura merged the contact list with the symposium invitation and clicked the "send" button. She absentmindedly wound several of her braids around two of her fingers as she checked her inbox to make sure none of the invitations had bounced back. Although in close spatial proximity to Mr. Spock, she chose to electronically send word of her completion of that task. He quickly responded without taking the time to turn back around to look at her, "Thank you, Cadet Uhura."
Uhura completes an assignment and he just hits – command/shift/U – for his "Thank you, Cadet Uhura" message . . . No . . . no . . . that method required too many key strokes. The shortcut was probably just command u. He's probably turned his attention to something else, now, and not even giving her more than a moment's thought. He probably did not even notice she was wearing a new fragrance, today . . . lilac.
Uhura spent 15-20 hours a week working close to Mr. Spock's desk, but he appeared unaffected to any changes in her mood, hair, makeup, uniform - while of course mindful of keeping any changes within regulations. This was not true of her Orion roommate, Gaila. Unfortunately, Gaila notices everything. Earlier that morning . . .
Uhura sat in front of her computer translating Betazoidian into Standard Federation. After each answer, she received the "cheerful response" – "Thank you, Cadet Uhura."
Calling from the bathroom, Gaila asks her, "Uhura . . . .are you going to meet us tonight at the New Cairo Station?" No response. "Uhura . . . Uhura!"
Between her language responses, "Shhhhhh – I only have two more to go!"
Gaila pokes her head out, "What?" Seeing her roommate engaged in one of her favorite pastimes, Gaila shook her head disapprovingly. Can't she ever get enough? She returned to her morning grooming routine until, at last, she heard the usual commendation, "Excellent, Cadet Uhura. You have successfully identified100 out of 100 Betazoidian phrases. Do you wish to continue to the next lesson?"
Coming out of the bathroom with brush in hand, Gaila mimics Uhura voice. "No computer. Note stopping point and end program."
Warning. "Gaila . . ."
Still imitating Uhura's voice, "I know you hate it when the Orion's show off their superior talent with the tongue . . . But please don't hate us. We were born gifted."
Uhura laughs. It was difficult for her to be upset with her friend. "All right . . . all right. Save that display for your next male conquest." Picking up her PADD and earpiece, "Now, what were you trying to ask me? I've got to get going to my phonology class in the next ten minutes."
Back to her own voice. "Phonology? Then why were you studying Betazoidian?"
"Just for the fun of it." Gaila rolls her eyes. Uhura places her hands on her hips and retorts, "Wait a minute my Orion, sister. You may be able to imitate my voice, but under no circumstance can you usurp the sacred rolling of the eyes - which is only authorized to be performed by Terran sisters of color."
Laughing. "You once told me I was an honorary Terran sister of color."
"Oh no, I would have never said that. There are some gifts we have to keep to ourselves."
Together. "Vive la différence!"
After their laughter has subsided. "Now if you have time to study subjects for which you are not even being graded . . ."
"I'm grading myself."
"It's meaningless!"
"It means something to . . ."
"As I was saying . . . if you have time for something that has absolutely no consequence to your graduation from the Academy, then I know you have time to meet us, tonight."
"Who are us?"
"Wilson, Mfume, Costello, Stiles, McCoy, and Kirk."
"Gaila, why don't us ever include any women?"
"You and I are part of us."
"And, another thing, I told you that Wilson and Stiles don't get along with Kirk. They were involved in that fight in Iowa and the grudge still remains, at least, on the part of Wilson and Stiles. So, find a way to disinvite those two and replace them with representatives of the female persuasion."
"If that will make it more likely you will actually show up, tonight."
"It depends on the place."
"The New Cairo."
"The New Cairo?! There is nothing about that place that gives me even the slightest reminder of my homeland. The owners think they can install a few ceiling fans, cover tables and chairs with a plastic leopard print, and feature – as a specialty of the house – a cocktail that did not even have its origin in that part of Africa."
"The Sundowner cocktails are what make the place worthwhile."
"OK – then if a South African drink is the draw, they should name that bar the New Johannesburg or something. However, even with a change of name it would remain an insult to my homeland."
"Uhura – you are always so sensitive."
"When it comes to my heritage, this is so."
"Then, we'll go to the . . . Journey's End. You know how much you love their spinach, feta cheese and bacon pizza on thin crust."
Uhura felt her mouth water. "Sans tomato sauce."
"Now you have no excuse not to come. 8 o'clock."
"All right, I'll be there . . . now I better get out of here." She picks up her shoulder bag, placing her PADD inside. Then, remembering the cool San Francisco evenings, she goes to the closet for her jacket.
While brushing her hair, Gaila adds coyly, "Uhura . . . don't forget to put the bottle in your purse."
"Bottle? I'm getting my jacket for tonight. What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the lilac fragrance."
Caught and a little embarrassed. "Oh."
"Go get it and put it in your purse so you can freshen up, before you go out, tonight." Uhura retrieves it. Gaila smiles, "I'm glad you're getting interested in men, again. I was about to take away your Woman's ID card, if I did not see a change in behavior."
Trying to play it off. "Oh, no, Gaila, you have it wrong. I just feel like wearing it. Just for the fun of it."
Gaila rolled her eyes.
At her workstation in Spock's office, Uhura completed the spreadsheet she would use to record the RSVP's for the symposium. She then saved the document to the shared folder. She began to close the external guest list file, but instead made a copy of it to a disk she would place in her shoulder bag. I'll prepare for the symposium as if it were a final exam. I'll research the guests and their work to better engage them in discussion.
Uhura had done all she could regarding the symposium, so maybe now she could start correcting the ethics papers from Spock's course. But then . . . her PADD signaled her. It was Gaila letting her know she was over 45 minutes in meeting them at the Journey's End. Her message read, "I know you're still in jail. You tell him he's got to let you go or we're coming to break you free of your bondage!" Uhura wrote back, "Stay where you are. Order a glass of Chablis. On my way."
While opening her shoulder bag to place her PADD inside it, she sees her fragrance bottle. She put took the time to place a drop behind each of her ears. She then turned her body discretely away from Spock (Right . . . as if he was going to notice). As unobtrusively as possible she opened the three top buttons of her uniform to place a drop at the top of her cleavage. Uhura had read in one of her xenology e-books that Vulcans enjoyed the smell of lilacs even though the plant species is not native to their planet. She realized that "fact" was probably in error just like so much of the so-called knowledge of this secretive alien race. However, Uhura had convinced herself that she had spent most of the day last Saturday finding the right perfume, because she thought the scent would make the office a bit less sterile if he could be a bit more pleasant. This proved not to be a factor in her earlier discussion with him about obtaining more challenges in her work. Perhaps, that was asking too much of the Vulcan. After rebuttoning her uniform, she decided to place two more drops on her wrists.
But if no one else but Gaila took notice of her fragrance at the Journey's End, she was going to die! She put on her jacket and began to close it. While doing so, she noticed Mr. Spock did not seem aware of her presence. In his own world, he answered mail, read and made comments on project progress reports, and revised notes for next day lectures. Uhura's hours that day were only to be from noon to five, but it was now 8:55 PM. She had not eaten dinner and did not remember having more than an energy bar for lunch. She realized she could not entirely blame him, since she was a willing participant in this madness. If it had not been for Gaila, she would probably still be working - near him, but not close to him – until the late hours of the night.
Mr. Spock appeared so engrossed in his work, Uhura decided she would just walk out without disturbing him. Shutting down her computer, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started out the office when she heard his voice.
"Cadet Uhura, have you completed your tasks for this evening?"
Turning to him. "Yes, sir."
"I am pleased I have been able to accommodate your work by keeping company with you this evening."
Disbelieving his statement. "Excuse me . . . sir?!"
"I believe the appropriate response would be – Thank you, Mr. Spock." Flabbergasted, she could not move or speak. Shutting down his computer. "You are welcome, Cadet Uhura." Picking up his jacket and putting it on. "Since you insisted on staying well beyond your usual time of departure, conditions are now unsuitable for you to return to your housing unit alone. Therefore, I will volunteer to take you there."
Uhura tried to control her anger, but there remains a definite edge to her voice. "Mr. Spock, remaining here admittedly well beyond my usual time of departure may have given the false appearance I have no other life beyond this workstation. However, tonight I do have a social engagement to meet with friends of mine in the city."
A raised eyebrow, but otherwise no change in facial expression. "Will this social engagement involve the consumption any intoxicating substances?'
"Sir, I am 24 years old and unless the legal drinking age has been changed without my knowledge, I believe I have the right to choose whether or not to partake in an alcohol beverage." What is this?! He's treating me like a child!
"Cadet Uhura, would you not agree that even one alcoholic drink impairs a human's ability to function at the optimum level?"
"Yes, sir, that is a known fact. However, I plan only to have one drink." Why am even talking to him about this? It's none of his business!
"Even assuming you have the fortitude to remain resolute with your intention, you will probably feel pressured to remain with your friends in a social capacity until the early hours of the morning when they have reached their desired level of inebriation. The effects of the alcoholic beverage and the lack of sleep will most likely prove to lessen your performance level in the morning."
"Sir, with all due respect, as long as I do nothing to disgrace the Academy, how I conduct my private life should be of no concern of yours. If you'll excuse me . . ." She began to walk out the door.
"I thought you might enjoy the challenge of leading the discussion in tomorrow's graduate seminar on ethics." The words stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to him to hear more. "The topic deals with the subject of privacy in communications. I have read the paper you published on the subject under Dr. Kim, so I am confident you are well qualified to moderate such a conversation among my students. Are you interested?"
Uhura had never before heard about Spock allowing a Course Aide to play such a role in one of his courses. Smiling. "Yes, of course. I would like to take advantage of this opportunity."
"The seminar begins at 8 AM. I took the liberty of checking your schedule and you have no conflicts at that time. I also sent a list of questions to your inbox which you can use to get the discussion started. I am sure you would like to have a chance to return to your housing unit to review those queries and then obtain sufficient rest in order to be ready for the session."
Uhura then remembered why she was angry with her supervisor. What a manipulator! But, she could not back out of it now, not after her earlier plea for more challenging responsibilities. All she could manage to say was, "Thank you, Mr. Spock."
"Probably, before we leave . . . you'll want to contact your friends to let them know of your change of plans about meeting them at the Journey's End."
Not a detail slips past him, does it. She removed her PADD from her bag and then typed, Sorry. I am not going to be able to make it tonight, after all. Explain later." She hit the send button and placed the device back in her bag.
As they left the office and began their walk to her dormitory, she heard him ask, "Is that not an Academy-issued PADD?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I must remind you that personal messages are not appropriate on these units. Please refrain from such violations in the future."
Uhura rolled her eyes.
Neither said another word as they took only 15 minutes to make the usual 20 minute trek across campus. Although nearly a head taller, he needed to take full strides to keep up with her hurried pace. And the cold . . . not the temperature, but Uhura's temperament toward him was absolutely frigid. When they arrived at the front door of the dormitory, she quickly removed her key card and swiped it to gain entrance. In a strained voice she told him, "Thank you, Mr. Spock, for accompanying me to my housing unit. Good-night." She took hold of the door handle and began to open it, when . . .
"Cadet Uhura?"
Three beats. Releasing the door, she reluctantly turned back to him. "Yes, sir." Why don't you just let me go?!
"I am aware you did not have the chance to partake in any sustenance this evening and I am quite sure the dormitory cafeteria is probably closed. If you would inform me of your preference, I will procure your order for you at one of the local diners near the campus."
So now he's trying to be considerate. I'm not about to give him the satisfaction. "That will not be necessary, Mr. Spock. I had such a huge breakfast, it has stayed with me all day. In fact, I could probably go for another three or four days without eating another bite." Suddenly, a loud growl from her stomach betrayed her words and evoked a raised eyebrow from Spock.
"Apparently, there is a differing opinion."
Embarrassed, but on principle she would not change her mind now. She would, at least, control this situation. "Anything else, sir."
"You may continue to wear it."
"Wear what, sir?"
"That fragrance. Lilac, isn't it?
Two beats. Almost inaudible. "Yes, sir."
"It mixes well with your normal body odor."
Suddenly inarticulate, "I . . . not everyday . . . I mean, you would not want me to . . . I . .maybe sometimes . . . Thank you, Mr. Spock." Great, she thought, I'm a communications officer who could not put together a coherent sentence.
"The seminar meets in Room 2445 in the Archer Building. I'll meet you there at 7:45 AM."
"Yes, sir."
It took her several tries of pulling the door handle to realize her key card access had timed out. Feeling stupid, she could not even look back at him as she swiped the card, again. Yet, she could feel him watch her until she gained entry and the door securely shut behind her.
What was that? Once in her room, she turned on her computer and then went to the refrigerator. Unfortunately, Gaila had finally fulfilled her promise to clean out the refrigerator. He did notice. She replayed the words over in her mind:
"You may continue to wear it."
"Wear what, sir?"
"That fragrance. Lilac, isn't it?
"Yes, sir."
"It mixes well with your normal body odor."
She laughed. It mixes well with your normal body odor. Mr. Spock certainly has a way with words. Her stomach growled, again. Touching her stomach. All right, settle down. Only eight more hours until the cafeteria opens for . . . The door chime sounded. Had Gaila forgotten her keycard, again? She opened the door and found a rumpled and inebriated James T. Kirk at the door holding a pizza box. "Thought you would be needing this." She grabbed the pizza and his arm and pulled him into the room.
Kirk, the "bad boy of the Academy" was often a pain in the butt, but there were other moments when you just did not know how you could do without him.
"How did you get in the building?"
Slightly slurring his words. "Tell you and find my 24-hour access closed to me . . . That's not happening. And, is that any way to talk to a man bearing what you're craving for?"
Uhura quickly cleared a spot on the desk and opened the box. "Spinach, feta cheese and bacon on thin crust . . . And you remembered to hold the tomato sauce. Kirk, I owe you." Picking up a piece, she happily shoved it in her mouth. "Mmmmmmmmm . . . The Journey's End has the best pizza."
"Wait, there's more." He pulls out two bottles of beer.
"You can't take bottled beer out of a bar like it's a convenience store."
"What are you going to do . . . call the police . . . Miss Righteous U – hur – a?" When he started to sway, she first grabbed the bottles, and then pushed a chair under him just as he began to fall. "Thank you." She opened one of the bottles and took a drink. Then, she placed the other in the refrigerator. "Hey, what are you doing? One for me and one for you."
Eating another piece of pizza. "You're drunk."
"Anymore news I can't use."
"Please don't tell me you drove over here."
"Tried to . . . but strange, no one would lend me their vehicle."
"How many cadets do you know with access to their own private vehicle? Zero. And drinking and driving . . . I don't even want to joke about it. James, you should know better."
"Call me Kirk or Jim, but please do not call me James. Only my mother calls me that . . . Leering. "And you, sweet lady, look nothing like my mother."
As though she heard it all before. "Sweet talker." Takes another bite of pizza. "So, how did you get here? Inflate your ego and float to my dormitory?"
"That retort was truly weak. You're disappointing me, Uhura. You need to live up to my fantasy of beauty and brains in one nice tight package. "
"Well we can't all have an IQ of 162."
"162 on a bad day!"
"Only if the IQ test is including one's propensity for being a wise ass."
"I love it when you talk dirty like that."
"Bones played chauffer tonight, didn't he? His latest has a great ride."
"The mystery is solved."
"Actually the real mystery to me is how the two of you became such good friends, unless Bones has a penchant for helping the severely socially repressed."
"That's my girl! Hit me, again. I'm almost there . . . "
"I'm going to kick you out of here if you don't behave. You're getting ready to cross that line –"
"All right . . . all right. Now, you really are reminding me of my mother. So, what happened to you tonight? An exam in phonetics? A paper in morphology? Or, you just wanted a chance to practice your sociolinguistics?"
"I get to moderate a graduate seminar, tomorrow." Almost feeling full, she can now feel generous. "Would you like some of this?"
"Real nutrients might interfere with my buzz. You just knock yourself out." She picks up another piece. "So, you get to play teacher."
"Oh, no. Don't even try to pull me off of my cloud. Save your rain for someone who actually cares about your opinion. Where's my roommate?"
"Somewhere between pissed off and unbridled fury."
"I'm putting up with a lot of abuse, tonight, for a taste pizza and a bottle of beer. If I was not so hungry . . . "Do you know where I can find her?"
"When Gaila got the message you had stood the gang up, once again, she was so distraught that she had to find solace in the arms of Cadet Fill-in-the-Blank."
"She always worries me."
"After two and a half years, you would think by now you would have gotten use to it. Those Orion women can take care of themselves. With their sexual pheromones, it is really the men who have to be wary." Two beats. "Hey, I'm starting to speak coherently now. I think I need another beer to take care of that problem." He tried to stand up, but she pushed him back down, again.
"Listen, you. I eventually need for you to get out of here, preferably before the sun comes up and without anyone seeing you. Nothing more to drink for you, tonight." Looking about. "Napkins . . . where are the napkins?"
"Was I supposed to bring everything? Just what was your contribution to the party?"
"Who ever heard of bringing pizza without napkins?"
"Use your towels."
"We each only have one clean set left and I would rather save it for my shower."
"What about your bed sheets?"
Disregarding his comment. "There's usually some napkins left in the commons area when people eat there. I'll be right back." She placed the part of her palm that was still clean on the touch plate to open the door. Turning back to him, she warned, "And you better not touch that other beer."
At his apartment, Spock heated leftovers from a pot of Ulan soup he had cooked yesterday. A savory potage, it was usually even better the next day after it was cooked. However, tonight he had only tasted a few spoonfuls, when he seemed to lose his appetite. His mind wandered back to Cadet Uhura, who said she was not hungry, but whose own body betrayed her contention. Why would she not accept his offer to acquire food for her?
Still, he could still recall pleasure . . . yes, it was pleasure that he had experienced as the lilac scent filled his nostrils and seemed to strangely affect other parts of his body. He wanted to hear her voice, again, that night. He needed to hear her voice, again. He quickly convinced himself he did not have a compulsion to contact her. Instead, he would contact her to make sure she had all she needed for tomorrow morning's seminar. From all his years working under Captain Pike's command, he had learned a certain level of comfort was an important ingredient for Terrans to perform at their optimum in noncombatant situations. His call to her would have that effect, so this action would, indeed, be of service to her.
After Uhura left, Kirk got up and stumbled over to the few remaining pieces of pizza. He crammed one piece in his mouth, and then another. That's a damn good pie. He reached for the last piece when he heard a signal coming from Uhura's communicator lying on the desk Maybe it's Gaila. Uhura would want you to answer it. He quickly licked his fingers and picked up the device."Hello."
Two beats. Spock checked his communicator display, but it indicated he had called Uhura's communicator. Why did he hear a male's voice? "Is this Cadet Uhura's housing unit?"
"Housing unit?" Why was this guy talking like this?
"Please confirm whether this is Cadet Uhura's housing unit."
Suddenly feeling protective. "Who is this? . . . Some kind of damn survey or something, because if it is, she's not interested."
Spock's tolerance for this man was quickly growing thin. The man was clearly under the influence us some type of intoxicating substance and Spock now grew concerned for her safety. "Why are you in possession of Cadet Uhura's communicator? I request you transfer the unit to her, immediately."
"Look, Jack . . . Saheed . . . P'lon . . . or, whatever the f--- your name is . . . " Spock reached for his jacket ready to make his way back to her dormitory, when he heard another voice. Uhura's voice.
"Who are you talking to?! . . . "
"I don't know . . . someone who is trying to sell you something or some other kind of shit . . . talking stilted Standard Federation . . . " Imitating, "Is this Cadet Uhura's housing unit?"
Her heart sank. Two breaths. "Communicator." She held out her hand.
"Make me."
"Now, mister!" Kirk does as she commanded. As though speaking to a dog, "Sit! . . . I said, sit!" His knees buckled and he fell down on her bed.
Trying to withhold a scream, Uhura rushed in the bathroom and closed the door. Three breaths. As calm as she could be, she tried to keep her voice low so not to be overheard by Kirk. "Mr. Spock?"
"Cadet Uhura, do you require my assistance?"
"No, sir. Everything is . . . fine."
"Who was that man?"
"A friend, sir."
"A friend. He appeared to be rather impetuous."
She wanted to cry. "I cannot disagree, sir."
"What is he doing in your room at this time of night?"
"Sir?"
"When I left you, I presumed you would spend your time preparing for tomorrow's seminar."
"That was the plan, but he showed up unexpectedly with food. I was so hungry, I was grateful he came."
"I offered to provide dinner for you, but you refused. Your actions were illogical."
Silence.
Then, Spock had to ask, "Just how long do you believe you will be entertaining that child, tonight?" He knew he had stepped over the line with his question, but it was of no concern to him at this moment. Jealousy had taken hold of him, yet, he refused to acknowledge this strange emotion.
Sharply. "He is not a child, sir. You will not speak of him in such terms."
"He should not be there with you."
What did she hear in his voice? . . . A tenseness . . . she could not quite identify it. "Sir, I doubt if my friend is really in any condition to leave, right now."
"I am able to come and assist your friend to his habitat." It was not appropriate, but under the stress of the situation she found herself laughing softly. Kirk was right. Mr. Spock's speech could, at times, be somewhat stilted. And, Uhura had to admit she found herself speaking the same way when she was around him. "Did I say something to amuse you, Cadet?" For Spock, her laughter was not one of derision, but served to relieve some of the stress that had permeated their exchange.
"Sir, I meant no disrespect . . . I'm just tired. However, please don't worry about my friend. In a while, he'll be able to leave here under his own power. And the seminar, I'll be adequately prepared. I really am quite excited about the opportunity."
"I am . . . pleased." The warm, rich sounds of her voice was what pleased him. This is what he needed.
But, then she asked him, "Sir, why did you call?"
At first, he was without words. He could not say what he did not fully understand.
"Sir . . . the reason for your call?"
His answer even surprised him. "I believe . . . I forgot to tell you . . . Good night."
If asked, Uhura could not describe the feeling that suddenly came over her. This feeling. . . warm . . . pulsating . . . so delicious . . this feeling . . . spread through her body. For a moment, she could not speak for she wanted to savor and explore it.
Spock waited what seemed to be a lifetime for her to respond. He held his breath. He felt exposed . . . naked . . . Why did she not . . . please say . . . something.
Then, Uhura spoke. "Say it, again, sir. I would like to hear you say it, again."
Without hesitation. "Good night."
Uhura closed her eyes and let the words echo in her mind. She drew an arm around her body as though trying somehow to keep this feeling within her.
This time there was no anxiety in waiting to hear her voice, again. He knew his words . . . those simple words had touched her. And, this thought . . . the thought of him . . . touching her with those words . . . filled him with desire.
"Good night, Mr. Spock." Transmission ended.
Spock put away the Ulan soup. It was common knowledge among Vulcans that this soup was best on the second day after it was cooked. He sat at his computer and read a technical journal for several hours, and then readied himself for bed. With his quarters sufficiently warm, he required no covers that night. On his back, he quieted himself until he could only hear the sound of her laughter. Yes . . . it gave him such . . . what was the word . . . comfort. Yes, comfort. Relaxed. So relaxed . . . until the question invaded his mind . . . Was he still with her? Sleep would not come easy for him, tonight.
Uhura took an extra blanket from the closet and gently covered Kirk. Smiling. He actually looked like a child lying there. Tousled hair . . . lips slightly parted . . . the regular rhythms of his breath well suited for one who often times seemed not to have a care in the world. He was cute for a white boy. His boyish good looks slightly marred as the result of never being able to back down from a fight. She remembered Mr. Spock's words . . . No, it was not so much the words, it was the way he said . . .Good night. She laughed softly. Bending down she whispered in Kirk's ear, "God is. Did you hear me, James? God is!" She kissed his cheek and touched his hair. His body reacted to her touch and he mumbled something under his breath. She knew not what he said.
Uhura stayed up until she had written new, but fitting questions for the seminar. With James in the room, flannel pajamas were an easy choice for her attire that night. She changed in the bathroom and completed her nightly routine. She picked up her PADD and earphones and then climbed in her roommate's bed knowing Gaila would probably not return until close to daybreak. Let's see . . . where did I leave off with my Betazoidian lessons? Just as she was to begin her tutorial, a detail of her day suddenly came to light. How did he know I was to meet my friends at the Journey's End? I never identified it. Had he been monitoring her PADD transmissions? Oh, that Vulcan!!! Sleep would not come easy for her this evening.
Author's Note: Later, I will return to this story, which marks the beginning of their recognition of their mutual attraction for each other. However, like most relationships, our twosome will encounter more problems and misunderstandings before realizing their love for each other.
The next chapters will explore their lives and relationships prior to this point. Yes, you will also eventually find out why Kirk and Uhura enjoy a close, but complicated liaison.
Your comments or suggestions are strongly encouraged and highly appreciated. I'll post the next chapter within seven days.
