11 Prime Blood~ Magnitude: Marissa

a/n If you read Marissa Drunk, this is a revised version, more at the bottom. Evil Wheeljack, purely evil.

{Back to the present with Optimus revived, Marissa at the current EMC Cornel and Ultra Magnus-Marissa's hearts-sparks yearning for each other.}

After Ultra Magnus' confession to Optimus, he made his way back to his lonely quarters. The blankets are cold. The room silent. Like it's been for eons. Yet still he misses her more than ever right now. He misses curling up with her and sharing. Anything from reports to silly stories of their past to even the stuff going on under their noses that really aren't worth disciplining.

Like he does with Marissa now. They can chat about anything and it warms his spark. Yes, he knows he is falling in love, but that doesn't stop him from being Marissa's friend, nor does that stop him from enjoying the simple pleasure of her company.

Rolling to his side and pulling the blanket up, he lets the high grade pull him under and wishing he had Marissa right here if for nothing else… so he wasn't alone. "How do you survive the loneliness Optimus? I'm sorry we brought you back if you suffer as I."

EMC Cornel's OFFICE

Marissa can't believe this. One of her best fighter pilots just got engaged. Yet she can't blame the soldier. She is a human after all. Marissa looks at the fun and accurate fighter pilot standing before her biting her lip. Marissa picks up a data pad (thank you Autobot for the improved technology!) and activates it. With a few swipes of the stylus, she hands the pad to her wingman, "Your new orders, Flicka."

Taking the pad, the girls' jaw drops, "Umm, are you sure, sir?"

"I've learned a few things with these Autobots. Fate rarely grants you a blessing like this. Take it while you can. Don't let it slip through your fingers. Go. You are now bound Earth-side for the remained of your tour to ensure our incoming pilots are properly prepared for life in Iacon. I want no more pilots passing out when they see Prime for the first time or asking why the word interface makes the 'Bots blanch. Got it?"

Flicka giggles knowing exactly what she is referring to. "Yes sir. You have my word. Shuttle leaves in 30."

Marissa flicks her hand to the door. "Well, then you best be on it. Go. And Flicka, he's a very lucky man."

Flicks beams, "No, I'm the lucky one." With that, the short cropped black head spins and runs out the door.

Marissa sighs and looks down to the pile of data pads in her "in-basket". And then her com pings. Without lifting her eyes, hits the button, "Yes?"

Magnus knows that tone all too well, "Marissa?" Marissa turns to her friend's image on the screen. Seeing her expression, his quickly changes. As does his tone, "Marissa?"

She turns away not really wanting to let herself go down the path Flicka's message bubbled up. So instead she tries to remain professional, "Yes, General, how can I help you?"

He huffs. It always bugs him when she does that, turning cold and professional when he's trying to be emotionally supportive. They've been friends and co-commanders too long for her to just brush his compassion aside. Then again, he respects her dearly. He flashes something brown in front of the screen, "Rod made you brownies for your birthday. You know him, they won't last long." No response from the human cornel. "He already licked the bowl and spoon clean." He waggles the brown object again, knowing she just can't resist Rod's fudge brownies, one of the orange mech's personal Earth-temptations. Ultra Magnus' really trying to draw her out of whatever brought on this silence. She still doesn't answer but rifles through her data pads trying to look busy. "Marissa…," he tries once more with that very deep and warm tone she rarely resists in pouring her heart out to him.

"Look, you have the birth- uh- creation day instead. I'm up to my neck in paperwork." She is really trying to hide. His trick didn't work this time.

Magus huffs and draws back from the screen a bit, "Bad excuse. No paper there. And you know Prime won't handle anyone turning down his attempt at lightening the mood around here."

Marissa snaps, "Then give it to Flicka! She's getting married!"

Mags knows that drawn up back and pushing her bangs aside. There is a deeper issue at hand. Marissa is turning 35 today. Not married. Hounded by her father. Not interested or able to date her subordinates. She was at the top of the command chain with only Autobots as her confidants. Himself being her deepest after all they've gone through. Her biological clock was ticking and…

"I'm sorry. Just make up an excuse. I have stuff to do." With that, she blanks out her screen with a security block and punches her door to say "confidential meeting in progress". It will hold off anyone who just wants to shoot the breeze or bug her about something frivolous. As for the com, sure Ultra Magnus can override it, but he will hit the block and have to think twice about what kind of wrath he wants to face from the EMC head before opening the connection fully.

Diving into the electronic paperwork helps reinforce her desire to be here with the Autobots and good she has done. Too tired, to make her way to her quarters, Marissa just shut off her lights and lays her head down on her desk. Sleep over comes grief.

~~~00~~

Later that week, Marissa and Ultra Magnus are shipped to Earth for some military review board meeting plus the NATO meeting. Somewhere in there fell Flicka's batchlorete party. Marissa tries to argue about going but Magnus reminds her, it will be good for her to blow off a little steam. Besides, most of the people at this party were NOT EMC including the recently discharged wingmate. Sighing heavily, she gives into him this time.

Promptly on time, he rolls up to the house. Several people cock a brow to the huge heavily armored royal blue and white transport carrier truck with hints of red trimming and strange twin star-missiles on the top. Flicka smiles widely at the truck and pats it's hood friendly, "Oh thank you so much, Ultra Magnus. I'm forever in your debt."

He chuckles so only she could hear him, "And to you Flicka, my blessings to you and your bondmate."

All eyes quickly leave the truck when the driver's door opens and a 5' 10" brunette with her hair curled and hanging loose at the shoulders slides out of the high cab in a half thigh length blue-black gladiator leather skirt and a red leather corset with black ties down the back. Marissa does not have small hips: no these are warrior hips, broad and strong, but not a lick of fat. A trim waist and nice bust. Her forearms and shoulders are real muscle. "Daaaaaammmmn, Cornel! You really make that Xena Warrior Princess thing work!" Marissa blushes feeling completely uncomfortable in the costume.

As Marissa passes in front of the rig's nose, it shudders. No one notices, too many optics on Marissa. Luckily, this is a near all femme party. Marissa taps the guest of honor's nose, "It's Marissa tonight, ex-lieutenant. And YOU were the one going for the whole warrior goddess thing tonight, Mrs. Hercules."

Flicka sniggers, "I just wanted to see if you really would come as your name implies: Xena."

This time Marissa flicks the nose, "I didn't choose the name. I got STUCK with the name. Now, where's those plasma shooters?" The rig chuckles again. Marissa lashes out by kicking his chrome bumper with her spiked knee high boot leaving a scratch. "Watch it, General." With that, Marissa moves out of his way and he heads down the street flicking his mirrors back to get a last glance at her.

~~~ Ultra Magnus was wrong. Half the guest were EMC personal. About three hours in and the said personal had drunk or scare the non-military ones away. Marissa is definitely feeling loose, bordering on smashed. Holding her own, that is until Cathy the Supply Clerk comes out with her personal pink data-pad. (one that takes the Cybertronian pads down to human standards.)

"Alright Ladies, now it's time for the real show. Straight from the Lushun System-" She plugs into the big screen TV, "Bot Porn!"

Marissa groans covering her face. Flicka giggles exuberantly. It is mixed between the remaining fifteen women as to the reaction as the show began watching the mech flyer strip off his hideous green armor revealing his all too skinny protoform.

Marissa and Flicka manage to pull Cathy aside, "Where did you get this?"

Cathy beams, "When in doubt, ask Sunstreaker!"

Another belts out, "Human or whatever, the plots still stinks, the mechs are still ugly and what the hell is THAT!"

Cathy squeals and quickly puts it on pause. Then she points to Marissa, "Oh come on Cornel Xena, certainly you of all people can tell us what that is."

Marissa downs the last of the stiff drink and shakes her head, "Can't say I can." She tries to lie.

Cathy cocks her hip, "Oh please, we know you spent the night with the General while under medical arrest. Don't tell me you-"

Marissa waves her hands wildly in the air holding off the thought. "I never saw that piece of the general."

"But you wanted to?"

Marissa was already flushed by the intoxication so no one could see her blushing to the elicit thought. Instead she reaches over and shoves a pile of snacks into her mouth and pours herself another stiff drink thus filling her mouth unable to answer the question. Cathy rolls her eyes and proceeds to point to the screen and describe in detail the long hard fiber optic looking cable with a pulsing glowing head sticking straight out of the mech. "The cord, cable, spike… the penis of a mech, if you will."

Cathy's continued educational speech would have made any of the military instructors proud, even though she was describing in great detail (topping off people's drinks at the same time) the art of 'Bot interfacing.

~~~ *Regrettable Hours Later*~~~

Ultra Magnus pulls up to the house as quickly as he can and brings himself to a screeching halt. Cathy yanks open his passenger door with one arm, supporting Marissa with the other. Flicka has Marissa by the other arm.

"Holy Primus! She's drugged?" Magnus is completely shocked by the staggering and completely bizarre way Marissa can't stand up, giggling hysterically.

"Hey, Mags. You are look'n goooooood. You know that?" the inebriated officer cooes.

Cathy grimaces, "Look, I'm really sorry, General. I had no idea who else to call. She's really blitzed and if she starts spilling stuff she shouldn't -"

"Plllleeeease Mags, show 'em the crest. Guys he's got this beautiful crest tucked under his helm. Soooo regal-"

"In ya go sir." Flicka shoves Marissa's solid hips into the rig's passenger seat and drops the high healed boots on the floor. Then presses a trash can into Marissa's arms, "Don't you dare barf on him. General… ummm, ignore everything she says, please?"

Marissa stretches out, letting her hands grasp the leather-like seat at her shoulders and strokes her way up and over her head, the rig shudders. In a pleading way again she begs, "Oh come on Mags, you know that crest is just too gorgeous to keep trapped under that helm. Come on, you have to let it out more often." With a flick of her hands, lets her hair spill out over the headrest, "You know, like me!" Her hands caress down the corset ribs, "Mmm, feels good to cut loose."

Cathy sees a bunch of the other girls are coming out of the house, drinks in the air and cat calling out to Magnus, "Come on General, Show us what you got!"

"What'cha hiding under that armor?"

"Ooooh look at her now, give us all the details Cornel."

"So General how loooooong does it glow?"

Cathy very quickly sobers up and slams the rig's royal blue door, "GO!" Ultra Magnus pulls away under the cry of thirteen cat calls latching the safety belt over Marissa.

Around the next corner, he reclines her seat. "Marissa, what got into you tonight? You never drink like this."

Marissa rolls onto her side and reaches out to stroke the driver's seat, "So Mags, can I ask you some thing personal?"

"Hermmm" he knows he should say no, but how can he? "What is it, Marissa?"

Her hand moves ever so slowly into the bucket of the driver's seat in a certain place, "So, what color does your cord glow?"

His brakes locked, jack-knifing his trailer in the middle of the freeway, "WHAT?"

Marissa is nearly thrown to the floor. "Yesh, and you don't like the way I fly?"

Magnus chokes back, "Well I never asked you what color your areolas are while flying into a thunderstorm." In the mist of the honking horns, he gets himself straightened out even though his processor went someplace else completely.

Marissa, meanwhile is looking down her corset, "Um, chocolate brown."

"Uh?" He grunts while maneuvering around another big rig.

"I just checked, my areolas are chocolate brown. Like great big Hershey Kisses. Wanna see?"

"MARISSA!" He gasps noticing that she is in fact trying to loosing the hook & eye clasps at the front of the bodice constriction device. "Stop at once! What is wrong with you?" He has gotten himself back onto the road headed to his primary destination.

Silence comes from the passenger seat. "Marissa, talk to me. This just isn't you."

She curls up into a ball in the passenger seat. "I should probably remain silent."

"Something is seriously bothering you. Come on."

Kicking on his hologram: an early 50's strong male with flecks of grey among his deep brownish red hair feathered back (reminding her of his blue and white crest), he looks to her with his tropical blue optics. A very handsome face and form that would seriously drawn more cat calls from the party. "Look at me Marissa. I'm right here and I'm your friend. Dare I say, one of my best friends? How much have we gone through together? What has gotten you all twisted up?"

She can see the sincerity in the blue optic/eyes but still, she looks away, "You had a mate and a daughter, you wouldn't understand."

Magnus takes the next exit and drives down the remote street, deviating from his goal of taking her back to the base. Soon enough, he is at a dead end street that is a bit of a plateau looking over the farm land. Nothing but stars to see in front of them.

The hologram leans over, "Marissa, I was a very old bot before I met her. And was sure I would never have what Springer, Optimus or Inferno had. I was so sure I was destined to be a lonely bot only good enough for training the next generation. And then, Primus smiled on me, and granted me a short brief love."

Marissa turns back to the hologram. "Has it made things better or worse?"

He had to chuckle at that. Sure, he's been able to enjoy interfacing like it was meant to be, but it also means he knows what it means to have love and loose it. "Both."

"I… I don't want to die lonely. I want someone to know I love them before my time comes." She yawns.

"Maybe you should sleep. I'll take this watch."

She closes her eyes and mumbles, "You always have my back, Mags."

His voice is soft and warm, "And your front." A smile graces her face before her body feels the full effect of the alcohol and makes her snore.

~~~~ Marissa knew he was in this room some where. Kup had said so. But this looked like the locker room showers. And what was that sound? She heads towards it.

There! That blue and white crest sticking above the shower door. Damn, he is so good looking. One of those that has the ability to break hearts no matter how old he is. The head is thrown back, face to the ceiling, optics closed while a moan escapes the parted lips. It was the friction like noise mixed with the sound of shower-water that really had her confused.

And then there is a longer groan of a moan that releases from the parted lips. Marissa notices the water down below now contained a silver opaque paint-like substance. Like it has just dropped in. It floats on the water while it circles and heads for the drain past her bare feet.

Worried for the mech, Marissa parts the shower curtain and stares. The sight before her is one she never ever wants to forget. The last of the silver fluid is washed from the mech's firm strong grip along with a final mechly grunt.

Starting at the peds, wide stance, strong powerful and firmly planted. Following up the firm solid calves, thighs, with a few deep scars in the snow white glistening under armor. And then the hips. Oh, she would just love to grip those hips forever. But she keeps looking. A nice firm belly, maybe a slight hint of age, but still no slouch in this general. He curls into the spray, and now his back is to her and she can see his nicely rounded aft, straight back with just a dip to the small. Broad powerful shoulders with numerous scars.

The crest dips back into the water, then rolls the face directly into it. Without his heavy battle armor, he looks so Greek god-like. Sleek, trim, muscular and touchable.

"Ma…Mags?" Her mouth gapes.

He turns his head slowly with that regal crest pert and erect. It is then that she notices she is the same size as him. It is also then that she noticed what he was gripping. A fiber optic cord of soft glowing blue with ruby red veins. It is still firm with one last drop of silver. The look he has for her is one of regret. "I tried to wait…"

Marissa steps closer, with the hand dropping from the crest to curl around her hip. Now noticing her own body is stripped bare, the chocolate tips press against his chest. "I have time. Have you more code?"

His mouth hovers above hers, "For you, always." The mouth covers and injects hers. It's Marissa's turn to moan. A hand takes a thigh of hers, curling and pressing it to his own bared hip, drawing the heated cord to get squashed between them….

~~~~ Marissa moans and writhes in her sleep in his seat. Magnus can translate easily what she is dreaming about. It doesn't help him much either. She may be human, but her friendship has been digging into a new piece of his spark. More than comfort, more than compassion. His optics find nothing objectionable about her form either. Certainly wedged in that current leather contraption showing far more skin that her flight suit ever would was not helping him object either.

"I'm too old for this crap," he mutters, his chassis is viciously arguing that point.

"Nuhahh, Mags, you will never be too old for this….," she moans in a near pent-up pain in her dream. He may just need that cold shower when they get back to base after all. Again.

~~ 00~~

Sunrise pierces the cab blinding the hung-over officer. "Ohhhh, I think I'm gonna die."

Magnus has his own pain, "Tell me about it."

Marissa grouses, "What's your problem? I knew I shouldn't have gone to that party, but noooo, you suggested it."

Magnus backs away from the edge and turns back to the highway grumbling. A particular dip in the road and his undercarriage scrapes. He howls in pain. Not his normal reaction to such pavement obstructions.

"Ultra Magnus?!" Marissa is worried for her friend. Her hand grazes his dashboard to soothe but for him it just adds insult to injury.

"DON'T!" He snaps.

"What has gotten into you?" now she feels like the injured one.

"Just do me a favor, the next time I suggest you go to a party full of EMC intoxicated femmes, shoot me. In the processor." Another dip in the road, another howl. Marissa clamps her hands over her highly sensitive ears. And then a string of cursing in Cybertronian comes from the wincing transport commander.

The rest of the trip back to the base is pure hell for them both. As soon as he could, he stopped and threw open the door, "Out. NOW!"

She snaps back, "Jeeze Mags, you don't have to yell."

He shutters in his frustration ordering her to move faster. She climbs out. Barely waiting for her to clear he transforms. Snarling he plucks the lethal boots from his asbergo and tosses them at her, stomping away. Wheeljack approaches his superior officer, but with a flashed palm and a murderous scowl, the scientist quickly figures out the temper was on a hair trigger. Wisely he holds up his own palms and backs away. With a hand motion, signals the other bots to give the commander space. They all part the way for the tons of metallic anger and pained frustration.

To all their surprises, the huge brooding mech heads straight for the wash racks with an odd hitch to his walk. And locks the door.

Wheeljack looks back to the EMC Cornel wearing a rendition of an ancient gladiator costume. She looks sick. No, he notices that look, hung over. Confused, he comes closer. "Cornel?"

She waves her hand, "Shhh, not so loud."

Kneeling the white mech tries carefully, "Were you and Ultra Magnus in a battle?"

Rubbing her temples she groans, "It didn't think so until I woke up this morning. What has got him so pissed and his undercarriage so sensitive?"

Wheeljack had to ponder that one for a moment. And then he remembers: the big bots (heavy truck alt-modes) have certain sensitive sensors on the undercarriage. Perusing Marissa's attire, the nature of the party she was at, and the fact everyone knows Magnus is falling in love again. He sniggers.

Her head lifts, "What?"

Wheeljack ponders what to do. Kup had confided in him about his bet with Skyfire…. And 'Jack knew Marissa's temperature always heats up and flushes when ever she sees Mags scratch under his helm. Like she wanted to see that crest again? Beaming a smile he gets an evil idea. "Ah, you probably want to change, don't you?" She nods. "Here let me give you a lift." Marissa picks up the wicked boots and climbs onto the palm.

He walks into the bot-officer's area. With a com link to the others in the room, he gets them to do other tasks away from his target. With them all looking away from the wash rack, he leans on the panel casually and hacks the lock. Cinch, it was a latch not a true lock anyways. With out a word, Wheeljack tosses Marissa into the room and relatches the door. Then leans his back against it so no one will open it until he is ready.

Marissa couldn't believe Wheeljack just tossed her into the mech's wash rack. What was that all about? Turning around to the sound of water flowing, Marissa could only gape and sink to the floor. It was her dream from last night come true. Well, at least the first half. She couldn't tear her gaze away even though she should have.

She should not sink to the floor and watch her friend, her fellow commander… the sexiest bot in the whole universe…

But there he is stripped bare standing only in his white protoform skin slicking his powerful hands over the white and blue crest leaning face first in the water. She should not be watching the way the bubbles trickle roll down his tone-hard body. Not a lick of extra material. Battle scars glistening in the light while the rain drops make his body even smoother. The crest is pert and gorgeous. Especially those two cute perts that slide into the antenna housings of his helmet. The blue so radiant and royal. The white so pure and regal. The shoulders broad and hardened. The chest brave and strong. Oh God he's more beautiful than I imagined. The strong hips nearly as broad as the shoulders, a perfect match. The belly scarred and healed over viciously. The thighs so strong to hold up the weight of this commander. Another jagged scar up towards the slit on his chest…

He rolls his face back letting the water trickle down the strong stretching neck, "Oh Primus, Marissa." For a moment she thought he was talking right to her. Luckily she kept her mouth shut because what happened next sent her into her own hell. A hand starts at his throat, gripping. Then pans out flat to press and slide down the broad scarred chest, the firm belly and … the glowing cord from last night's movie emerges into the warrior's palm. Three times more lethal that that scrawny green Seeker's. This godlike-mech's glowed royal blue with red veins and a vibrant white head. And then he curls his grasp and… strokes… ever… so …slow…ly.

Marissa swallows hard feeling her own temperature rise quickly. She is trapped in a room watching a powerful mech … self-service. Not just any mech, but the one she had an all too real dream of making love to last night… in this very wash rack. And he is there saying her name as he pushes himself to release a painful male-tension from his body that she had created. A tension she wished she could release for him. Oh God he is amazing… She couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight while his body curled in on it's self nearing the verge of the abyss. Marissa can feel her own body joining that same cringing white hot feeling. Internal agony for her as well. She clenches, he cringes. He moans, she silently moans with him. He grunted out sharply, she felt her breathing become painful sharp. And then he roared softly, she panted. He spilled, she felt her own wet release. "Oh God," she whispers.

Magnus didn't hear her over his own roar and the pounding of the water. What he did hear was Wheeljack outside the door, "Hey Mags…" The mech didn't answer still trying to calm himself down. "Ultra Magnus, do you need help?"

The crested helm turns towards the door with a curious concern, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marissa quickly scoots herself behind a bottle of solvent sitting on the floor. Certainly the last thing she needs right now is Ultra Magnus knowing she just watched him *ahem* with her name on his delicious lips. She buries her face in her knees afraid what she will do if she watches his damned sexy form any longer.

Oh God, why are you doing this to me? Seriously, he is a different species. You can't let me be fawning over him like some… some… crazy fan. Sure I know about those online clubs and such, but that's for all those whack jobs and weirdoes. Not Cornels in charge of an off world team, trusted advisor to Prime and his

… (she raises her head watching him dry off that gorgeous form) general.

Marissa is sure she would never be able to look him straight in the face again.

"Shut it 'Jack!" Ultra Magnus growls to the snickering bot outside the door. Clicking the armor back on, the regular mech becomes hidden under the guise of the General persona. Marissa stays cringing behind the bottle. Tears are streaming down her face in humiliation. Not for what she saw, but for what she feels for what she saw.

Sliding the door back, the officer scowls at his subordinate, "What?"

Jack glances around the room quickly, "You alone?"

Doing his best not to show the shiver that went down his central rod, he leans in, "What did you say?"

Jack notices the look: the last straw, pushing the officer too far, on the brink of being disciplined… "Uh, nothing."

Ultra Magnus shakes his head stepping out of the room, "Remind me again why you wanted to be a Wrecker?"

Oooh, that struck deep. Jack's turn to blanch and pull back. Stiffly he responds formally, "The supplies are ready. Just waiting on one last delivery of fighters and we will be read to leave. Three hours they said."

Magnus nods, "Good. Hopefully they are made better than the last supply. I can't imagine the Cornel's reaction if they ship her shit again. It won't be pretty."

Jack leans in, "Going to use them as target practice again?"

"You are my first target, Jack. You."

And he strides away motioning Jack to follow him when he hesitated. Gulping, he quickly strode beside his commander. Glancing back, he sees Marissa's retreating form head to the human sector of the base.

Marissa runs as fast as she can to the human sector. Cold shower is definitely in store. Running into the showers, she jumps in costume and all. Leaving the water on ice cold, she just lets it beat against her body until she is sure her head is going to explode. And then the combination of last night's binge, ice cold water on her pounding head and then all the ice cold reality crashing in: She's got the hots for Ultra Magnus. NO, it was worse than that:

Marissa is in love with a big old hunking robot!

Her stomach unloads. And then she feels like her head has exploded. Once more she hurls. Once the mess is washed down the drain, she manages to get the water turned to warm. A luxury here on Earth. And she is going to milk it for all it is worth.

2.3 minutes later. "Cornel, the Commander is looking for you?" It is that a new voice or is her head really that badly screwed up.

"Which commander?" Marissa knows there are some she has to answer to and some she can tell to piss off.

"Uh, I think he's a general…. Well I think? What are the ranks?" She is muttering to herself.

Marissa is putting it together. They needed a female to go over to the showers where an undressed female officer was. And they just had to pick the new chicka to punk by coming after the sick and angry Cornel of the EMC away team. "Look it, Ensign. We have ten different countries joining us for this inter galactic mission, give me a fucking name not a rank!"

"Ultra Magnus." The scared ensign finally sags out.

"You can tell him to-"

The flushing Ensign would never tell the towering robot commander everything spewing out of the officer's showers. The poor Ensign is trying to figure out what to say when the water shut off. And few strange noises and some more cursing later, the door opens. A very wet cornel wrapped in a military green towel pokes her head out. "Tell him I need five minutes."

The Ensign noticeably sags, "Yes Ma'am." And quickly disappears. Marissa steps out of the shower and heads towards her area of the hangar. A tent set up inside the hangar acts as her private quarters. She was so close.

"Cornel!" the bellow calls. Marissa screams. Normally she wouldn't have but it was taking a bit to get her head together. Being back on Earth, that party all her emotions and the final blow of her heart betraying her and now his beautiful bellowing report across the joint hangar. Whirling around, she clutches the towel tight. But even then, it only covers her well,… maybe the corset had covered more. And now she is still damp. His peds stumble, nearly making him topple. There they are staring at each other. Each one knowing how they felt about the other and not having a clue what to do about it.

"I'll wait," he manages to get out in a somewhat normal voice. Swiftly Marissa dashes into her tent and gets dressed. Tossing down a couple Tylenol with a guzzle of water, she returns to her co-leader. He looks at her all back into her Cornel Fairborne personal. "The ships are on final approach." He holds a hand out to carry her.

But her heart sees something else. He's holding his hand out to … take her into his … Not daring to speak, she only shakes her head and strides forward in full confidence. Looking down at his palm, he is actually grateful that she declined. Afraid that he would have curled her to his chest and pressed his lips to her. He shudders and turns to his duty.

Primus, this next tour is going to be Pit and then some.

They both retort to their Gods.