Harper had very accidentally witnessed that very private moment between his two crewmates, and at first, he told himself to sit on it and shut up. They would put aside whatever lay between them and bind, gag, and toss him out the airlock together if they discovered his hidden presence from that night.

Harper kept to that resolution for an admirable three days, and, in his defense, he broke it for the sake of the Maru's entire crew. In a ship of hundreds, tension between two people would probably go unnoticed by nine-tenths of their crewmaters. In a ship with a crew of four, however, tension between two people involved a full half of the crew, and the other half was walking on eggshells to avoid setting off the hair-trigger mood swings of the first half.

And if mere tension weren't bad enough, Beka was injured, and /that/ meant she got to play backseat driver. Tyr was as quiet as a corpse around her and short-tempered with him and Trance, though the Nietzschean had managed something approaching an apology after the sixth outburst. Trance, for her part, snuck worried glances at Tyr and Beka and was keeping to herself more and more. When Harper asked her what was wrong, she only shook her head and whispered to herself that it was out of her hands now. Helpful. Harper wanted to scream.

So on the fourth day, Harper scribbled a note on a spare flexi. /Tyr. Roses and chocolate—dark, caramel- or raspberry-filled. And soon, please./ When he was sure Tyr had left his quarters for the cockpit, he stole silently through the doors of the Nietzschean's room and left the flexi on his pillow. Though he was /very/ curious to see how Tyr Anasazi decorated his quarters, Harper also lived in mortal fear of Nietzschean wrath. Well, perhaps not /mortal/ fear of this Nietzschean, but Tyr was liable to snap his head off (figuratively, so far) at a moment's notice—and that was when Harper /wasn't/ breaking and entering.

When Trance came across him a few minutes later, Harper was whistling. She cocked her head to one side and regarded him curiously. "Heya Trance, how's it goin'? What's up, what's shakin' what's goin' down with our resident violet vixen?"

She smiled, warmed by his obvious—and very unexpected—good mood. "Um, it's going fine, the ceiling's up… um… and I'm not sure if anything's shaking or going down. But it's good to see /someone/ happy around here." Her voice lowered to a confidential murmur. "Have you noticed that Tyr and Beka are acting a little strange?"

Harper coughed. "Um, yeah, a little. Now and then. You know, you've been a little…off yourself. You're not quite as… sparkly as usual."

Trance nodded. "You're right, Harper. I've just been… thinking a lot. You know how sometimes you have a… puzzle, and you have a piece, and you think you know exactly where it goes? But then it doesn't fit in that spot, and you think maybe you know where it really goes, but you can't quite see that place right now?"

It took Harper a few moments to sort through Trance's words. A puzzle? "Uh, sure Trance. Listen, all I know is this… thing going on with our illustrious captain and the local superman is driving me bananas." He was sure she'd ask him about that one later. "But I think that things are going to change /very/ soon." He attempted a cryptic grin. "I wouldn't be too surprised if Tyr were to stop by Hydroponics later today."

"I don't know Harper," Trance replied doubtfully. "Tyr doesn't seem to like flowers very much."

Beka's voice over the comm ordering Harper to haul ass to the cockpit cut their conversation short. Harper was whistling as he left, the first time the Maru had heard anything so cheerful in the past four days.