Disclaimer: I still don't own Legion of Super Heroes, nor do I make any profit from this.
First round of actual "therapy" coming up this time.
Double or Nothing-:-
Five days, near down to the minute that the President had left his base at the ungodly hour in the morning, she was back again, though this time in the evening. And he was actually working under the one of the computer consoles, wires ripped out and strewn around near his feet while his back was lying flat to the ground atop a towel, in an older shirt and crappy pants that, had they been from another time period would be referred to as jeans, but were actually called something else nowadays. Denim, that was what he recalled the sales-girl saying they were.
His door opened with a slam into his wall and his head hit the console's inside roof, a resounding and painful throb going through his entire head. The screwdriver he had been using slid out of the screw it was working on and scraped along more metal, hurting his ears as well.
"You don't need to get up, it's just me," the President's voice spoke from his living room, the sounds of her little heels clicking and then thumping as she sat on his couch, back on one end, facing him, and her feet settling onto the other side. He growled at her voice and shimmied out of the console's innards to glare at the woman for disturbing his work.
Grabbing the little rag he kept next to him for this type of work, he wiped a smear of oil from his face and the rest off his hands while she continued to look at him, calmly and effectively grabbing his attention enough to look at her and notice…
She was wearing something different from the last two times she came to Rawl. Instead of looking like a confident, ever thinking ahead President, she looked like an average—if not slightly attractive—woman, who was more suited to being a college professor. Simple black trouser pants, a white twinset shirt, black boots that shouldn't have worked on a woman like her, and yet did, and her hair down, settled like a black silk curtain around her like one of the old, 21st century fashion models.
If he were a normal human being he might find her attractive, and on some subconscious level that was stationed and merged with his sexdrive, he did, but right now she was just the woman sitting on his couch for a therapy session he didn't want to listen or assist in.
He threw his rag back into the console and leaned against it, still glaring at her, "This is for your benefit, but I'm just going to lay down some ground rules, okay?"
She nodded, fingers fiddling with a lock of her own hair as he continued.
"I reserve the right to call you an idiot up to three times a session, if you try and hit me, I reserve the right to hit back, if I'm working on something and you come in, I will continue to do so even if it involves very loud power tools that drown you out and if I make food or drink I won't always offer you any. Understand?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Okay," he sighed, without any warning ducking back into the console and back to his work, but waved a hand out of the hole at her, like swatting away a fly, "Speak your tiny little mind."
"Alright," Winema replied, ready and comfortable in the cushiness of the sofa as she just started off on the things that had been bothering her as of late, "I've been thinking about getting back into the sex thing again after taking a sabbatical of about twice as long as my term in office."
Londo paused his hand from picking up the power tool he was going for and settled back into working at the wires he had intended on doing later. He supposed he could listen to this part, at least. He didn't get any form of entertainment on this planet, aside from some music radio that bounced around five different planets nearer him, and this could be something worth revisiting and mocking her with should she ever really annoy him. Well, annoy him even more, anyway.
"It's not like I even really want to see if I'm any good at it, it's just that I've spent so much time as the President, as a mother even, that I'm starting to worry that I've regained my virginity and the next guy I'm with will be a total freak about it."
"You haven't had sex in twenty years?"
"Oh, so you're listening?" she smiled, raising her arms and stretching them out behind her head.
He growls and the sound echoes around the chamber a moment, but she continues, a little pleased that he was paying attention despite setting herself up for expecting him to just tune her out. It was pleasing, she supposed, to be listened to when it wasn't of base importance to the United Planets. Like she was a real, normal person.
"No. I had sex once when Tinya was two, but, um, it was during a night of drunkenness and I don't actually remember his name…or what he looked like…or if it was even a he…"
Londo's fingers twined the wires together and he slid the red plastic or blue plastic across the connection. He was smiling in that snide way he sometimes did at the misfortune of others, but refrained from laughing.
"Why Madame President, you've had quite a wild side."
"Years ago, and you're not exactly one to judge, are you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Experimenting on your own son, hiding out on a planet a sane person would never inhabit willingly, not to mention you're a man."
Ignoring the first two points, he grabbed for the last and wiggled out of the cavern again. One brow was raised at her and he took to the kitchen to wash his hands in the sink, investing in this session despite himself. The console could wait.
"I'm a man, so what?"
"So, according to statistics, whatever number of men women have slept with, women men have slept with are two to three times more."
Londo turned on the faucet, only a little grease and oil wiping onto it like paint as the water flowed out in spurts like a water pistol in the hands of a teenager used to hunt after another in the heat of summer. The debris from his hands came off easily and slid through the water drops and into the sink as he turned his head slightly to at least try and look at her as he spoke.
"Really? Would you care to put that theory to the test?"
Her eyes narrowed mischievously at the ceiling, but she took the bait, "How's that, Doctor?"
"How many men have you slept with?"
"Excuse me?" Winema tittered, leaning up with her elbows as he came around the couch and took a seat in the one nearer the door. He looked amused as he crossed his legs and one of his arms rested on the armrest. She had never been asked such a question in her life and it was amusing by some degree to be asked such a private thing by the one guy who she thought would never partake in this in a billion years.
"I'll tell you my number if you tell me yours."
"…Okay," Winema replied, inquisitive about him now, in spite of herself, "In my life, I've had sexual relations with ten different men."
"That's all?"
"Yes, why? How many people have you slept with?"
"Define people," Londo enquires somewhat secretively, his glasses sliding down his nose as his head is angled at her in a way that reminds her of a snake that's not poisonous, but menacing in its own way. It almost sort of frightens her, but she outlined her enquiry anyway, much too drawn into this.
"Men, women, animals, plants-if you're like that."
"I'm tri-sexual, my dear Wazzo," he explains, enjoying her eyes as they widen a little at the statement, "I'll try anything once, but I suppose in the last twenty-some years I have limited myself to just males and females. But, to answer the base question, I have slept with thirty-seven people to date."
The creepiness from this statement, said so matter of fact that it couldn't be a lie, slid in and then out of her rather quickly and she sat up from her spot, success on her face.
"Hah! I was right! Men are pigs! You're a pig."
"Well, not as of late," he defended, "I myself haven't slept with anyone in years."
"Uh-huh," Winema smiled, twirling a piece of her hair again, "So, what do you think I should do about my situation?"
His reply is simple and not unexpected, but still it irritated her tremendously, "I haven't the slightest idea."
She seems disappointed by his words, but doesn't say anything for a little while. She just stares at him, thinking things he would never dream to guess at, and finally, she moved from her spot on the couch and to a standing position.
Once righted up, her hand dug into one of her pockets and she pulled out a cred card, clasped daintily between two fingers and held it out to him, unspeaking.
When he did not move quickly to grab the card, she simply dropped it onto the table and she went for the door, not turning as she spoke, quiet, "I'll be back again soon. Perhaps in the next few days."
With the words spoken, she left for her ship, leaving him alone in his place upon the sofa, contemplating the strange woman.