Believe it or not, I do have a vague notion as to where this bit is going!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wearin' my Six shooter
Planetside
The only word Harper could summon to describe the set of Rommie's full lips was...sulky. Not that he minded; she could have her fingers in her ears, her thumbs in her nose, and lipstick on her teeth besides, and she'd still be drop-dead gorgeous. "Well, well, well, running back to Seamus Z. Harper, are we? They all succumb to the incredible masculine charm in the end." Now, most people would not choose to aggravate an already annoyed android, but Seamus Harper had always walked on the wild side.
"Harper, did you have to make this body so anatomically correct?" Her arms gestured up and down her slim form, exasperated with the effect it had on a high percentage of the male population. "Does a warship's avator truly require décolletage to function?"
Harper looked slightly bewildered. "Dayco..." His eyes brightened as he realized what Rommie meant. "Oh! Hey, all I did was construct you to look exactly like holo-Rommie, and if that means daycollegette..." he sighed the sigh of noble self-sacrifice, "well, that just meant more work for me." Somehow, Rommie didn't buy it. "And you have to admit, it worked on those freaky Commonwealth kids." That statement, along with the grin he failed to conceal, utterly ruined any façade of nobility.
"Hmph. If one more person offers to buy me a drink, I swear..." her eyes narrowed as she heard someone approaching.
"Hey guys, next round's on me."
Harper grinned wickedly. "Hey, boss! Rommie was just telling me what she was going to do to the next guy who offered to buy her a drink!" He merrily crunched on a handful of mini-pretzels from a basket at the neighboring table.
A passing waiter glared and swooped in to snatch the basket from Harper's fingers. "If you want some, you must pay!" At the sight of a certain young android, his dark scowl melted into a warm, suggestive smile. "Aah, but no one ever finishes these anyway, and I hate to let anything go to waste." He checked out Rommie so thoroughly that she wagered her could tell her her waist size, bra size, shoe size, and age to the month, all before relinquishing the pretzels to a delighted Harper. Well, her age were she human, at least.
"Hey, you should come on shore leave with us more often, Rommie. Just bat your eyes and breathe a little deeper, and ow!" He choked on the pretzel he was eating as he demonstrated his instructions when Rommie kicked his shin. He looked beseechingly at Dylan who had just sat down, but the latter just chuckled at his engineer's misfortune.
"There's one woman I would hit on after a Nietzschean, and that's an android. It's your own fault, Harper."
He stared googly-eyed at his captain. Well, one of his captains. Since when did Dylan talk about hitting on women? In his experience, he didn't need to do a thing for the ladies to fall in line. In any case, he had to admit that it was sound advice. "I don't know, Boss. I always kinda wondered about you and that hot Sabra princess. Think she had a thing for you."
Rommie studied Dylan closely, suddenly curious. That Sabra trollop's husband had once said something very odd to Dylan that seemed to suggest something. She didn't prefer to dwell on what that something might be. "That woman? The only person she didn't refer to by some sort of slur was me, and I'm sure she could have, had she time to think of one."
Dylan tried much too hard to act nonchalant, which obviously signified that something had happened. "Oh, well, you know how Nietzscheans can be." At Harper's and Rommie's disbelief of his casual demeanor, he added a wide- eyed, "What?"
The waiter returned with another Weissbrau for Harper, a Milky Way Mixer for Dylan, and a smooth line for Rommie. Or so she guessed, but something behind them startled the man so much that he dumped the drinks on the table without a care if they survived the trip and skittered back to the bar without a word. Whatever it was, Rommie was inclined to thank it.
Harper dove to save his beloved brew while Dylan and Rommie spun around to assess the situation and determine the threat of whatever had affected the waiter so. Observing the similarity of his captain's and the ship's android's reaction, Harper tossed back nearly a third of the former's drink. He was readying an innocent expression and excuse for the depleted state of Dylan's Milky Way Mixer when he noticed that although several patrons eyed his friends with some curiousity, none dashed madly about as had their server. His gaze swung to the object of the man's panic and found Trance, padding in silently, twin blades drawn. More eyes fastened on her, but her air was not violent as much as simply watchful. Expectant.
Soon enough, all three were seated with Harper, who joyfully discovered that Dylan never noticed the reduced amount of liquid in his glass. "Trance, are you all right?" Rommie's voice was concerned, for more than one reason. "I may not be able to tell whether you're alive from one minute to the next, but I do know worry when I see it." This unique woman had shown unusual abilities to predict the future, or at least guess with uncommon accuracy, and when she was worried, it was often with very good cause.
Trance shook her auburn braids but did not stop examining the room to the last detail. "I'm fine. It's just that I've never seen this place or even heard of it. It's...strange." Her daggers eased themselves back into matching sheathes, hands hovering nearby.
Deliberately, she changed the subject; Rommie's expression was far too inquisitive for comfort. "I wonder how the happy couple's doing in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud." The reactions of the other three was exactly what she'd desired. That is, they'd completely forgotten about her seemingly inexplicable wariness, all save Rommie, but the A.I. wasn't going to harbor suspicious notions like Harper or possibly Dylan might.
"All I know is they're either gonna come back like this," Harper crossed his first two fingers, "or one of 'em's gonna be-" he drew his index finger across her throat in a quick, slashing motion. "Whatever happens, at least it should be entertaining."
Dylan raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. "You mean they're not already...together?" Trance chuckled as she imagined him trying to explain to Tyr and Beka why he sent them in particular on this mission after their return to the Andromeda. "Uh-oh." He followed Harper's example and took a draught of his drink. He blinked at his glass when he discovered it empty.
"In his predictably unintelligible and overly-dramatic manner, Harper pretty much hit that one on the head." Her delicate features twisted oddly. "Uh, first sarcasm, now metaphors." It was spoken softly enough that no one but Trance had any idea she'd said anything.
"Excuse me? First I find out those two aren't a couple, then you tell me they'll either come back as one or not at all?"
Rommie shook her head. A ray of light filtered through her blue locks, temporarily filling her vision with a sapphire glow. "As usual, Harper over- simplified things. However, I have noticed increased levels of adrenaline as well as a rise in hormones generally associated with physical attraction when they spend prolonged periods of time together. Unless they can resolve whatever issues they have with one another," about as likely as Harper resolving his, she thought, but refrained from saying that aloud, "it may be a matter of which one is fortunate enough to escape alive." Dylan looked so worried that she almost regretted her attempt at humor.
"So it really was hand to hand combat," he murmured wonderingly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wearin' my Six shooter
Planetside
The only word Harper could summon to describe the set of Rommie's full lips was...sulky. Not that he minded; she could have her fingers in her ears, her thumbs in her nose, and lipstick on her teeth besides, and she'd still be drop-dead gorgeous. "Well, well, well, running back to Seamus Z. Harper, are we? They all succumb to the incredible masculine charm in the end." Now, most people would not choose to aggravate an already annoyed android, but Seamus Harper had always walked on the wild side.
"Harper, did you have to make this body so anatomically correct?" Her arms gestured up and down her slim form, exasperated with the effect it had on a high percentage of the male population. "Does a warship's avator truly require décolletage to function?"
Harper looked slightly bewildered. "Dayco..." His eyes brightened as he realized what Rommie meant. "Oh! Hey, all I did was construct you to look exactly like holo-Rommie, and if that means daycollegette..." he sighed the sigh of noble self-sacrifice, "well, that just meant more work for me." Somehow, Rommie didn't buy it. "And you have to admit, it worked on those freaky Commonwealth kids." That statement, along with the grin he failed to conceal, utterly ruined any façade of nobility.
"Hmph. If one more person offers to buy me a drink, I swear..." her eyes narrowed as she heard someone approaching.
"Hey guys, next round's on me."
Harper grinned wickedly. "Hey, boss! Rommie was just telling me what she was going to do to the next guy who offered to buy her a drink!" He merrily crunched on a handful of mini-pretzels from a basket at the neighboring table.
A passing waiter glared and swooped in to snatch the basket from Harper's fingers. "If you want some, you must pay!" At the sight of a certain young android, his dark scowl melted into a warm, suggestive smile. "Aah, but no one ever finishes these anyway, and I hate to let anything go to waste." He checked out Rommie so thoroughly that she wagered her could tell her her waist size, bra size, shoe size, and age to the month, all before relinquishing the pretzels to a delighted Harper. Well, her age were she human, at least.
"Hey, you should come on shore leave with us more often, Rommie. Just bat your eyes and breathe a little deeper, and ow!" He choked on the pretzel he was eating as he demonstrated his instructions when Rommie kicked his shin. He looked beseechingly at Dylan who had just sat down, but the latter just chuckled at his engineer's misfortune.
"There's one woman I would hit on after a Nietzschean, and that's an android. It's your own fault, Harper."
He stared googly-eyed at his captain. Well, one of his captains. Since when did Dylan talk about hitting on women? In his experience, he didn't need to do a thing for the ladies to fall in line. In any case, he had to admit that it was sound advice. "I don't know, Boss. I always kinda wondered about you and that hot Sabra princess. Think she had a thing for you."
Rommie studied Dylan closely, suddenly curious. That Sabra trollop's husband had once said something very odd to Dylan that seemed to suggest something. She didn't prefer to dwell on what that something might be. "That woman? The only person she didn't refer to by some sort of slur was me, and I'm sure she could have, had she time to think of one."
Dylan tried much too hard to act nonchalant, which obviously signified that something had happened. "Oh, well, you know how Nietzscheans can be." At Harper's and Rommie's disbelief of his casual demeanor, he added a wide- eyed, "What?"
The waiter returned with another Weissbrau for Harper, a Milky Way Mixer for Dylan, and a smooth line for Rommie. Or so she guessed, but something behind them startled the man so much that he dumped the drinks on the table without a care if they survived the trip and skittered back to the bar without a word. Whatever it was, Rommie was inclined to thank it.
Harper dove to save his beloved brew while Dylan and Rommie spun around to assess the situation and determine the threat of whatever had affected the waiter so. Observing the similarity of his captain's and the ship's android's reaction, Harper tossed back nearly a third of the former's drink. He was readying an innocent expression and excuse for the depleted state of Dylan's Milky Way Mixer when he noticed that although several patrons eyed his friends with some curiousity, none dashed madly about as had their server. His gaze swung to the object of the man's panic and found Trance, padding in silently, twin blades drawn. More eyes fastened on her, but her air was not violent as much as simply watchful. Expectant.
Soon enough, all three were seated with Harper, who joyfully discovered that Dylan never noticed the reduced amount of liquid in his glass. "Trance, are you all right?" Rommie's voice was concerned, for more than one reason. "I may not be able to tell whether you're alive from one minute to the next, but I do know worry when I see it." This unique woman had shown unusual abilities to predict the future, or at least guess with uncommon accuracy, and when she was worried, it was often with very good cause.
Trance shook her auburn braids but did not stop examining the room to the last detail. "I'm fine. It's just that I've never seen this place or even heard of it. It's...strange." Her daggers eased themselves back into matching sheathes, hands hovering nearby.
Deliberately, she changed the subject; Rommie's expression was far too inquisitive for comfort. "I wonder how the happy couple's doing in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud." The reactions of the other three was exactly what she'd desired. That is, they'd completely forgotten about her seemingly inexplicable wariness, all save Rommie, but the A.I. wasn't going to harbor suspicious notions like Harper or possibly Dylan might.
"All I know is they're either gonna come back like this," Harper crossed his first two fingers, "or one of 'em's gonna be-" he drew his index finger across her throat in a quick, slashing motion. "Whatever happens, at least it should be entertaining."
Dylan raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. "You mean they're not already...together?" Trance chuckled as she imagined him trying to explain to Tyr and Beka why he sent them in particular on this mission after their return to the Andromeda. "Uh-oh." He followed Harper's example and took a draught of his drink. He blinked at his glass when he discovered it empty.
"In his predictably unintelligible and overly-dramatic manner, Harper pretty much hit that one on the head." Her delicate features twisted oddly. "Uh, first sarcasm, now metaphors." It was spoken softly enough that no one but Trance had any idea she'd said anything.
"Excuse me? First I find out those two aren't a couple, then you tell me they'll either come back as one or not at all?"
Rommie shook her head. A ray of light filtered through her blue locks, temporarily filling her vision with a sapphire glow. "As usual, Harper over- simplified things. However, I have noticed increased levels of adrenaline as well as a rise in hormones generally associated with physical attraction when they spend prolonged periods of time together. Unless they can resolve whatever issues they have with one another," about as likely as Harper resolving his, she thought, but refrained from saying that aloud, "it may be a matter of which one is fortunate enough to escape alive." Dylan looked so worried that she almost regretted her attempt at humor.
"So it really was hand to hand combat," he murmured wonderingly.