Day 25
Alcohol has never been a problem for her.
Tau'ri alcohol even less so.
She built a resistance to it from a fairly young age, a child slave to a weapons smuggler and he had to give her something to calm her nerves.
Something to make her more compliable.
However, she has her limits and shot over them with the bottles strewn around the floor and acid roiling in her stomach.
Doesn't hear him enter, or talk to her, or address her because the voices have stopped. Mostly. They're a bit mixed with colors now, paints poured into the vortex of her mind in elaborate galaxy swirls and rainbow puffs. The colors are better than words, they relax and remind her of toys she would see adverts for during commercial breaks for television shows.
"This place looks like an adult ball pit." Is the first thing she comprehends him saying as he wades through the discarded bottles surrounded by the echoing clinks of glass rolling off each other.
She's strewn across her bed, her arms relaxed over her head and grazing the headboard, she chuckles in contentment. "What is a ball pit?"
"It's a hole filled with brightly colored, lightweight plastic balls." He sits down, and she feels the bloom of warmth from his hand to her thigh. "You sort of swim through them."
She leans up on her elbows. "It sounds like I would love it."
"You would love it." He chuckles back, his hand rubbing up and down her legs, sending shivers up her spine.
"So, take me to it."
"Can't Princess, we're stuck on a ship that's stuck in time."
Falls back onto the pillow with a plop and when he speaks a navy-blue thread is added in with her colors. She likes it the most.
"You men and your excuses."