Rating: R - For Sex, language and drug use.

Humanoid aliens from all over the quadrant seemed to have jammed their way into the wide, but nevertheless crowded corridors of the enormous space station that orbited the Hirku system. Having only arrived via the airlock and hour before, Trip took an inventory in his head of the species he recognized. Among the many he didn't recognize, he'd seen Tellarites, Andorians, Vulcans, Suliban, Lorellians, Klingons, Orions and even a human or two. He even caught a glimpse of one of the short, round-eared jackasses that had tried to rob Enterprise early in their mission.

Trip's trained engineer's eye also noticed bits of wear and tear in bulkheads and conduits which lined the ceiling. In his head, he ticked off safety violation after safety violation. Nothing seemed deadly, but no matter how interesting this place was, he figured it would be a good thing to spend as little time there as possible.

Trip glanced over at T'Pol to see if she had noticed, but if she did, it obviously didn't concern her. She was in conversation with Hoshi, who had been studying the Romulan language as best she could with the little information they had. Hopefully, Hoshi would be able to recognize even fragments the language if they detected in any transmissions.

"Did you see that little pirate fellow?" said Malcolm.

"Yeah," replied Trip, "But I hardly think its fair to hold the entire race accountable for the actions of a few pirates. And that wasn't one of the guys who tried to rob us."

There was just a touch of sarcasm in Trip's voice, which Malcolm detected.

"Well," replied Malcolm, "From what the Captain put in his report, I'd think it's safe to assume we shouldn't assume they wouldn't be pirates, but alas I suppose we should just focus on this mission."

Trip grinned.

"Probably," said Trip, who glanced over at his wife and saw she was waiting for them. He reminded himself that she wasn't his wife on this mission; she was his CO. The away team consisted of the four of them. Malcolm and Trip were to search for technical evidence that anyone on the station was helping the Romulans, while T'Pol and Hoshi were going to do some old-fashioned reconnaissance. T'Pol was to meet with the Vulcan intelligence officer in a tea room on one of the higher decks; while Hoshi was going to loiter around the large waiting area outside the security and customs station.

"We'll all report back here by 1300 hours," said T'Pol, "Don't hesitate to call in before that, if it is deemed necessary."

Malcolm nodded formally.

"Be careful," said Trip, "both of you."

Hoshi smiled, and T'Pol nodded before heading toward a turbolift.

Trip shook his head. T'Pol had been suppressing the bond since the moment the mission started. She didn't even say goodbye through the bond, as she often did aboard the ship. She sure was taking this working relationship only business seriously.

****

T'Pol found her way to the "Vulcan Section" of the vast space station, which consisted of a pie shaped wedge in the large, round main hallways of the station that was three decks deep. All the Vulcans who lived aboard the station had their businesses and living quarters here, and there were several shops and restaurants catering to the station's hundred or so Vulcan residents and the many Vulcan visitors. Although non-Vulcans were welcome in the section, they were uncommon.

"Tonk'peh," said the young female Vulcan who was the hostess of the tea room.

T'Pol nodded, happy to hear her native language spoken. In Vulcan, she requested a table for one, and the hostess led her to a small table near the back window. T'Pol could see Enterprise docked at one of the ports, as well as several other starships. Some were of Vulcan design.

She tapped her order into the screen that was embedded in the table and wondered just how authentic the meal would be. From the smell of it, the establishment had imported most of its ingredients directly from Vulcan. In addition to the menu, the screen embedded in the table also accessed the subspace news wires from Vulcan, offered thousands of logic puzzles, works of literature and even played Vulcan music.

Her meal arrived, and T'Pol had noticed that the Vulcan intelligence officer that was stationed here was late. Vulcans were rarely late, she thought as she began to consume her food.

These tastes of home were comforting to her. Although she was content to be living the life of a planetary ex-patriot, she would also always be Vulcan and the smells and tastes of home would remain part of her identity.

After a short while, a middle aged Vulcan man appeared at her table. He wore traditional Vulcan robes, albeit in the informal style, but he barely looked Vulcan to her. Something in the lines of his countenance and the hue of his skin suggested stress that most Vulcans do not allow themselves to endure. T'Pol empathized, knowing she too had been through more than most Vulcans could understand. The life of an intelligence officer this far on the frontier of known space was no doubt a difficult one.

"You are Commander T'Pol," he said in Vulcan.

"Yes. You must be Javon," she replied.

He nodded in the affirmative and sat down.

"I have been requested to give you any information I have on the Romulans and their activities in the area," he said.

"Vulcan intelligence is in full cooperation with with Earth intelligence on this matter," she said.

Javon nodded.

"Are you enjoying your meal?" he asked.

T'Pol hesitated for a moment. Such an idle question was unusual from a Vulcan, but then, like her, he might have adopted off-worlder customs.

"It is agreeable to consume such authentic fare," she replied.

"I assume that human chefs only manage a fair imitation of Vulcan cuisine," he responded.

"Yes,"she replied.

After a moment's silence, she spoke.

"How much intelligence do have for me? We can transfer any files via encryption, as you have no doubt been informed by your superiors."

Javon produced a small crystalline disk from his pocket and slid it, quite openly, across the table. T'Pol recognized it as a means of storing large quantities of data.

"To anyone not holding the encryption key, the data will appear to be the account books for the import business I run. I'm having you take it to my accountant rather than sending such vast files over subspace."

T'Pol nodded and casually slipped the disk into her belt. She then waited for Javon to speak, as it was customary for him to summarize the most important points.

"How is your husband?" asked Javon in English.

T'Pol was surprised by both the language switch and the question.

"Don't worry," said Javon with a wave of his hand, "Our speaking a foreign tongue will not draw attention to us. I speak over 20 languages and have been trying to learn English. Me not trying to speak it with you would be more suspicious to the staff here."

T'Pol sipped on her tea and sensed amusement from him. Clearly, this man had been in deep space for long enough that his emotions were very close to the surface. She wasn't in a position to judge, but it wasn't a mirror she enjoyed looking into.

"My husband is well," she replied.

"You created quite the scandal on Vulcan," said Javon, "We even got wind of it here. I must say it was agreeable to me that you extracted yourself from Koss's family. I know little of the man, but if he's like his father you are far better off."

T'Pol didn't react, but she was curious. She suppressed the desire to know more. This man was using intelligence tricks on her, treating her like an asset rather than a colleague. It wasn't right.

"That family pretends to be all about logic and honor, but they run some of the myriad businesses through this station. Koss's father has a rather, shall I say, ruthless application of logic."

T'Pol believed this to be true, and the news was agreeable to her. But Javon was flattering her by supporting her unorthodox choices and providing justification for them. What he didn't know is that T'Pol would not have been able to bond with a member of Surak's family, let alone Koss. His father's nature had nothing to do with her choice. T'Pol reminded herself of that fact as a way to keep Javon's flattery at bay.

"My wife has remained on Vulcan all these years," said Javon, "and I've never found the need to return. I have found an Orion woman that is a most stimulating companion. Did you know they emit mind-controlling pheromones? That they control their mates that way?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Does she control you that way? The last time I encountered a group of them, they enslaved nearly every man on my ship," she inquired casually.

"She sometimes thinks she does," responded Javon, "but as you know, a disciplined mind can accomplish much."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. She thought her relationship with Trip was unusual, but she suddenly wished to be an insect on the wall at Javon's residence.

"Do you wish to provide me with any more information?" she asked.

Javon leaned back.

"You likely know most of what is on that disk. It contains all of my reports to Vulcan intelligence including the last one. Two traders who operate out of this station have likely been supplying the Romulans with materials for their operation. The Klingon, he provides basic materials that they could obtain from anyone. Heavy metals, alloys and other raw material used in the construction of the mines, defense systems and their buildings. He doesn't concern me. But the Tellarite, his services are more interesting. He only seems to provide one thing - an element native to their world that's primary use is to stabilize volatile substances in mining operations.

T'Pol nodded. She understood the implication. The Romulans were mining something dangerous on the nearby planet, and it was probably something very valuable to them, given the level of security around the system.

"Tell me, T'Pol," said Javon, "Have you ever met a Romulan?"

T'Pol looked at him. He wasn't supposed to know about her father, but intelligence officers always knew more than they were supposed to know.

"Even if I had, you know I wouldn't be at liberty to divulge that," she responded smoothly.

Javon nodded, and T'Pol hoped she hadn't given him any improper cues. She sensed this man could have read things in T'Pau's face if he really set his mind to it. She did her best to read his face, and she thought it was very likely he knew at least something of her recent troubles.

"Are you to be staying on the station?" he asked, "I could help you obtain a room here in the Vulcan section. It's very quiet. Ideal for meditation."

"Our captain has said he prefers us to sleep aboard our ship," she replied.

For a split second, Javon's eyes moved away from T'Pol and focused intently on something or someone behind her. It was a rare slip up for a Vulcan agent, since T'Pol clearly recognized that he didn't want her to know what had distracted him. She made no move to turn her head and in the direction he looked, but moments later she gestured toward the ship and asked Javon what he knew of its specifications. As he looked at the window, she quickly stole a glance to where he had looked. All she saw was a young male Vulcan seated in the corner sipping tea. Her glance was too quick to register that the young man had been staring at her the entire time she's been talking to Javon.

****

After T'Pol had left, Ston approached Javon and sat down. Javon looked at the young man intently. He still didn't know for sure why this Romulan boy was so interested in Commander T'Pol, but he wanted to find out. Not only was it his job to know these things, but he was actually curious about this situation. Javon had always been curious to a fault, and eventually he had chosen intelligence gathering as a career in order to make use of what was considered a personality flaw on Vulcan. Curiosity was of great benefit in his line of work.

Javon had been impressed with T'Pol, and he almost regretted luring her to the station. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that his reports would have brought T'Pol's ship to the station even before Javon had rewritten them to emphasize the station's part in the mining operation. It was usually Javon's habit to write his reports in such a way as to keep other intelligence officers away from his territory, but Ston's incentives made it logical to do otherwise in this case. The boy, however, thought he had arranged some kind of spectacular coup, and Javon was content to let him believe that, given how good his payments were.

"You'll get your bonus," said Ston happily.

"Young man," said Javon, "control yourself. Anyone paying attention to you right now would realize immediately that you are not Vulcan. If you wish to continue your masquerade, I suggest you take up meditation."

Ston ignored this comment.

"What was she like?"

"Unremarkable," lied Javon. Now that he'd met T'Pol, he was more disquieted by the young man's interest in her.

"I thought she looked very remarkable," pouted Ston.

Javon stood up.

"That is none of my concern," he said, glad the final payment would be delivered soon.

****

The away team met, as planned at 13:00 hours. They were all grateful that nothing out of the ordinary had as yet happened. Away missions going without a hitch were still somewhat abnormal.

"I counted over 82 languages being spoken," said Hoshi, "and I didn't even recognize 20 of then."

"This place is amazing," said Trip, "It's glued together from spare parts that come from all over. Vulcan conduits. Andorian power couplings. Tellarite protein sequencers. There's even Starfleet technology evident in their communications systems."

"It was probably stolen from Enterprise," said Malcolm.

"What's it like in the Vulcan section?" asked Hoshi, innocently.

Trip officially knew about T'Pol's meeting with Javon. Malcolm knew unofficially, but Hoshi didn't know at all. She knew they were gathering information about the Romulans, but she didn't need to know that there was a Vulcan agent on the station.

"It is exactly as one would expect a Vulcan section of the station to be. We should get back to the main security area," said T'Pol, "It may take as long as an hour to get through the checkpoints."

She flipped open her communicator.

"T'Pol to Captain Archer. We're returning to the ship, once we've cleared security."

"Don't bother," snapped Archer's voice, "We're under quarantine. The harbor master says that their systems detected a pathogen in one of our cargo bays. They aren't letting anyone on or off the ship until they've isolated it."

It was nonsense, as Enterprise had very sophisticated systems to prevent such occurrences.

"Did the harbor master solicit a bribe in exchange for overlooking the pathogen?"

"How'd you know?" asked the captain, sheepishly.

"It's a common ploy. It might be advisable to pay it."

"Not on your life," responded Archer, "I'd rather let you extend your away mission than submit to blackmail. Continue as you were. Get whatever information you can and report back to me every eight hours. Archer out."

Trip smirked a little. He could feel T'Pol's irritation with the captain's stubborn streak. No doubt she would have just paid the bribe and written it off as the cost of doing business.

"Well," said Malcolm, "it looks like we'll need to find a place to stay tonight."

T'Pol thought briefly of the Vulcan section but rejected it. She didn't want Javon to have an opportunity to further observe her.

"I'll go to the information desk and see if I can book us rooms," said Hoshi.

"Anywhere but the Vulcan section," said T'Pol.

****

Later that afternoon, Trip and T'Pol found their way into a bright, large suite with an expansive window overlooking the planet below. Hoshi had found herself and Malcolm small interior rooms with a view of the hydroponic gardens, but double occupancy rooms were bigger and had the space view. Trip looked around and was impressed. It wasn't as nice as the Romulan warbird, but it was better than he expected. The bed was large and piled high with pillows. The decor was sparse, but a vase of fresh flowers brightened up the room. There was a suite of furniture in front of the window and a large abstract painting on the wall.

Hoshi had said this "hotel section" offered the best accommodations on the station - certainly better than the Vulcan section, which was known to be spartan.

Trip was thankful T'Pol hadn't shown any interest in Vulcan austerity. Their room was bigger than their quarters on the ship and looked plenty comfy.

"This away mission is starting to feel like a vacation," said Trip as he began to explore the room.

"Don't humans have a saying about not mixing business with pleasure," replied T'Pol as she sat down in one of the chairs in front of the window.

Hoshi had explained to the hotel's management that they had all become trapped on the station without any luggage. The management had provided "survival kits" with toiletries and other items humanoids without luggage might require. The desk clerk also instructed them to place their dirty clothes in the the laundry receptacle and promised they would be cleaned and delivered by early morning.

"There's a huge bathtub in here," said Trip from the bathroom, "Huh. You can have a water bath or a liquid nitrogen bath or a hydrochloric acid bath. Remind me to pay close attention to the buttons."

"You are the last person I would expect to make a mistake regarding the settings of such a simple device," said T'Pol without irony.

Trip smiled and joined her by the window. He sat down in the chair across from her.

"How did your meeting with the Vulcan go?" he asked with a serious tone. "You can tell me, I've got full clearance on this mission."

"It was. . .interesting. He has provided no more information that what could be gleaned from his report. The Romulans are mining some unknown substance, and they are using several traders at this station as part of their supply chain. Javon seemed more interesting in getting information from me than giving it to me."

She spent of few moments briefing her on the exact nature of their conversation, and he in turn, reported on what he and Malcolm had found out around the station. His information aligned with Javon's intelligence.

"What's he like?"

"He's a Vulcan that has been living among out-worlders for decades," she said cooly, "and it shows in his manner."

Trip sensed immediately why this made T'Pol nervous.

"Living in a place as rough as this station for a long time," he said smoothly, "would have an effect on just about anyone - even a Vulcan."

T'Pol appreciated his sentiments, so much so she allowed a little of the bond energy, which she had been blocking since they arrived on the station, to flow between them. Trip reached over, and the two joined fingers. The little stream of energy became a fast-running river. Trip fully understood how nervous Javon had made T'Pol.

"I've not met the guy," said Trip, "but I already know you're nothing like him."

T'Pol was skeptical and said nothing. Gradually, he felt her suppressing her nervousness.

"Glad you're feeling better," said he said.

"Would you care to join me for meditation?"

"Perhaps later," said Trip, "Would you care to join me for a bath?"

T'Pol raised the familiar eyebrow. She had become accustomed to showering with her husband, but she hadn't ever taken a bath with him.

"C'mon," he said as he stood up, "It'll be nearly as relaxing as meditation."

****

Malcolm and Hoshi each had their own room, but they were adjoined. About an hour after arriving, Malcolm heard Hoshi knock on his door.

"Do you have a sauna in your room?" she asked.

"No," he said, "I have whirlpool tub."

"I've only got a shower," she said, "but I've got a sauna. Care to join me?"

Malcolm grinned, and she took that as an affirmative.

"There's probably a bathrobe hanging in the closet," said Hoshi, "I'll see you in a bit."

Malcolm took off his clothes and donned the fluffy robe that Hoshi had correctly predicted would be in his closet. He wondered for a second just how friendly Hoshi's invitation was but thought it best to err on the side of friend-friendly. He strode casually into her bathroom and saw the door to the sauna.

"There's an extra towel out there," she said.

Malcolm hung up his robe and wrapped the towel around his waist. Inside the sauna, he found Hoshi lying on her back, covered completely by a towel.

"I think they make these towels for Klingons," she sighed.

Malcolm silently agreed. He had seen her less covered in decon many times.

"Be careful of the controls," she continued, "You can turn up the heat to 500 degrees."

Malcolm spooned some water on the rocks and created a burst of steam. Then, he jumped on the opposite bench from Hoshi and closed his eyes.

"This is way better than decon," he said.

"Yeah," she replied, "No Phlox watching us."

He peered out one eye at Hoshi, who was covered in beads of sweat with her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Thanks for inviting me," said Malcolm.

"We'll have to try your hot tub tomorrow," sighed Hoshi.

"It's a date," said Malcolm, "assuming we're lucky enough to still be here."

"It turned into a working vacation pretty quick," said Hoshi, "which I do not object to."

Malcolm stretched out and cricked his neck.

"I wonder how the newlyweds are enjoying it," replied Malcolm, "I'm sure their happy to have some time alone and away from the ship. T'Pol sure seemed all business this morning, but I'll bet they are making the most of their time."

"I would if I were them," said Hoshi a little wistfully.

"Were you surprised when they came back from Vulcan married? After the Terra Prime incident, I never would of thought it possible," said Malcolm.

"A little I guess," said Hoshi, "but it is very Vulcan cohere with someone who shares your deep grief like that. So, it's really not that surprising. And even before that, everyone and I mean everyone on the ship knew they were involved. I'm happy for them."

Malcolm inhaled the air, and Hoshi sat up and punched a button on the side controls.

"This is supposed to add some kind of aroma therapy. It has a few human scents, but there's an Andorian one here. Feeling brave? It's not like we can't just turn it off."

"Go right ahead. . ." said Malcolm.

Soon, a sweet but somewhat acidic smell filled the room.

"That will open your sinuses," sad Hoshi.

"Sure will. I'm glad Trip and T'Pol stayed on the ship. It will be interesting to see how it all works out, but I am glad Starfleet allowed them to stay on while married. People should have a chance to lead normal lives in deep space."

The smell was becoming stronger and stronger. Malcolm noticed color spots of blue, green and purples dancing on the interior of his eyelids. He opened his eyes. The room seemed unstable, as if the space of the sauna was endanger of collapsing into a micro-singularity. He looked over to Hoshi, and she appeared strange. She was lying in the same position as she had been, but to Malcolm she seemed cocooned in white, cotton candy-like light.

"Malcolm," she said, "I think we better switch to the eucalyptus scent. Are you seeing things?"

"Yes," he said, "and I think I'm in love with the universe."

"That's nice," she said, "Hopefully this will wear off soon. You're cocoon looks cozy, though."

With that, Hoshi closed her eyes again.

***

Ston paced back and forth in his quarters at the Vulcan section. He had bribed the registration clerk into making certain that T'Pol would be given rooms across the hall from him, but his sister had apparently decided to stay elsewhere on the station. No doubt she wanted to be closer to her human companions. Perhaps her husband was with her, as well.

Ston wrinkled his nose a the thought of his sister's husband. He knew little about him and tried to think of them man even less. All Ston knew was that the man was human, from Earth and worked as the engineer on his sister's starship. It seemed a very wrong choice to marry outside Vulcan society, but the thought that she had done that was intriguing to Ston. He knew little about humans, but they were known to be emotional and un-Vulcan. It seemed unlikely she could have made such a match by choice. It was probably forced on her for some reason.

Ston flipped through several photos of his sister on his data screen. He had her official Starfleet photo, a photo of her as she arrived at his father's cottage, a photo of her graduation from the science academy on her planet, a photo of her as a stern looking little girl standing next to father. . .the pictures went on and on. Looking at them, Ston felt robbed. He should have known that woman in the pictures. She should have been there for him when he was a boy. Father could have seen to that, but instead he abandoned his daughter. Ston had to make it up to her somehow, but he needed to find out where she was. The bribe he'd paid to the harbor master had ensured she would remain on the station for at least a few days, but he had thought for certain she would stay among her own kind.

As if to punish himself for his own error in thinking, Ston hit his hand against the table hard.

Then, he picked up his communicator and buzzed Maleek.

"My sister is somewhere on the station. I need to know where she is staying."

Maleek sighed.

"We'll find out for you, if we can."

Ston was about to yell that he had better find out, but he stopped. He had no real power over Maleek, and his friend was starting to sour on their endeavor.

"I'll be waiting," said Ston.

****

The oversized titanium tub in Trip and T'Pol's quarters not only fit both of them nicely, but it heated the water continuously so it didn't get cold. Trip, who suspected the thing might be built for Klingons, had drawn it to a pleasantly warm temperature, and they sat facing each other, each with their back against an end of the tub.

"This can't be a completely foreign concept to you," said Trip, "I know there was a bathing pool at your Mom's house."

"Yes," said T'Pol, "but bathing is done alone on Vulcan as part of the cleansing of emotions, and we certainly don't use bubbles."

Trip had one of T'Pol's dainty feet in his hand and was applying pressure to one of her neural nodes.

"But the principle is the same. Warm water. Muscles loosening. Relaxation."

"We use warm water to tend to injuries, but normally are baths are kept at the exact Vulcan body temperature in order to create a sense of balance."

She closed her eyes when he hit a particularly sensitive spot in her arch, and she made a soft moan.

"I wonder how Lt. Sato and Lt. Commander Reed are doing," said T'Pol.

"How is it that you are thinking about them?" asked Trip, amused.

"It is likely they will not find being stranded on the station as pleasurable as you have," she said.

"I'll wager not," said Trip, whose fingers were now working on the place where her little toe joined her foot.

T'Pol had her hands at either side of the tub, but she reached with her other foot to gently rub up and down Trip's thigh.

"I thought you didn't want to mix business with pleasure," he teased.

"I never said that," she replied, "I only said that I believe humans warn against the practice. Personally, I believe it is logical to make use of our time in this unexpected environment."

Trip let her foot drop back into the water, and reached for her hands, pulling her across the tub to him. His mouth found hers in a deep, searching kiss. Her arms came up around his neck and her legs straddled his sides under the water. His hands found her breasts, and he teased and tweaked them without breaking from the kiss. After awhile, he moved his lips to her ear and nibbled the point while whispering to her.

"Ashayam," he said.

In answer, she clutched him tighter and gasped with pleasure. He pressed the mechanism to drain the water from the tub. As it quickly disappeared, he flipped her over on her back and admired her form, which was still covered in bubbles. Instinctively, she brushed a cluster of bubbles out of his hair, and then pulled him down for another long kiss. Soon, he found his way inside her, and she wrapped her legs tightly around him.

"Beloved," she whispered in his ear.

****

Malcolm and Hoshi, thinking it best to not leave their rooms in their condition, had ordered room service from the hotel. The kitchen had actually contacted Enterprise and was able to concoct a traditional Japanese Udon for Hoshi and some British-style Indian food for Malcolm - with pineapple ice cream for dessert.

The two of them, in their bathrobes, sat on Malcolm's bed while examining the food. Malcolm was slurping Udon noodles while Hoshi sampled some Tandori chicken.

"This doesn't taste anything like what I ate in India. You Brits have really outdone yourself making Indian food bland. . ."

"I don't think it's that bland in London. It probably just a bad copy. . .do you still love everything? Because I love everything."

Hoshi chewed very, very carefully on her chicken.

"I love everything but this chicken. . .you know, as much as I don't want this to wear off. I do because I don't want anyone to know how stupid we were to test that Andorian aromatherapy."

"It was a breach of protocol," said Malcolm, "Never inhale an unknown alien substance."

Hoshi looked out the window to all the plants and flowers in the garden.

"So pretty," she sighed, "I should have been a botanist."

"You're the second best linguist on Earth."

"Well, maybe I could have been the best botanist on Earth," sighed Hoshi wistfully.

Malcolm looked over at Hoshi. Her body was still surrounded by white wisps of light that seems to resemble strings of DNA unfurled. He wondered if that was Hoshi's soul. She had a very pretty soul.

"Hey, Malcolm," she said, "You look all gooey."

She reached up and tried to touch his face but missed.

"I think this stuff affects your depth perception," she said.

"What the chicken?"

"No. . .not that. Boy, this better wear off tomorrow," she said a little sadly, "but the idea makes me sad."

Malcolm leaned over and placed his head on Hoshi's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, "If it's any consolation, I love you."

"You love everything, Malcolm," said Hoshi, "and I think I do as well. Including you."

"We have that in common," he replied with a slightly soft giggle.

Hoshi wanted to ask if he meant that they both loved Malcolm or that they loved each other, but she got distracted by some dancing blobs of color on the ceiling.