A hot shower was nothing to take for granted, thought Mark. The hot water was soothing away the worst of his sore muscles and aching back, after his daily physical therapy. He had considered taking the day off, in hopes that he'd have more stamina for this evening's state dinner, but Bossy Beck had advised him to go ahead and do his normal session, since it was time for his weekly evaluation. A quick change of clothes, and and was off to Beck's temporary office at the other end of the rehab center.

"Let's make this quick, shall we?" grinned Beck, "I've got to swing by the airport and pick up Beth." he motioned for Mark to sit down. He seemed a bit distracted.

"Sounds good to me."

"Looks like you've been doing a good job, your trainer's report is here. Working on mastering those stairs?"

Mark sighed. "Elevators are my friend. I'm doing better with ascent, but I'm still pretty shaky on descent, when we practice on the three-step bridge."

"You'll get there," Beck gave him an encouraging grin. "It looks like your heart muscle tone is still improving, so that's good. Your overall heart function looks a lot better than a month ago, that's for sure."

"Yeah," agreed Mark, "There was really nowhere to go but up, from that. I don't feel 'normal', but I don't feel like there's a elephant sitting on me all the time anymore, either."

"You've regained just over ten kilos of muscle mass, and you could stand to put on another fifteen, over the next three months or so. Slow and steady wins the race. You're doing great. Overall, huge improvement. Blood pressure is looking good, as well."

"Does that mean I can be officially cleared to drive?"

"You're physically okay for it, how about your mental state? Any panic attacks? How have you been sleeping, lately?"

"No panic attacks. Sleeping okay. The NASA shrink seems satisfied that I'm not a homicidal maniac." Mark grinned.

"Good enough for me. I'll sign off on it." Beck stood up. "You try and take it easy tonight, okay? I'll see you when we get there. I'll buy you that beer I promised you."

"It's open bar." Mark rolled his eyes.

"Exactly." Beck smirked at him.

x x x

The yellow, oval-shaped reception room was surprisingly quiet and calm, as Mark sipped his champagne. He made small talk with the lady in blue to his left, and he idly wondered whether or not it would be rude to compliment her on her tiara. His tuxedo collar felt stiff and tight; he checked the time, surreptitiously, for about the tenth time in twenty minutes. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he saw with relief that President Roberts was being announced.

Oaiea was being introduced to the small group, and as she was being guided to a nearby chair, she paused in front of him for a moment.

Good evening, Mark. She smiled, and gestured to her gown. Apparently the, "So how do I look?" gesture was a universal one.

"You look great, Oaiea." And she really did. She'd chosen a silver-gray gown to complement her chalky white skin-tone, and some adventurous stylist had even applied some makeup for her, accentuating her large, milky-blue eyes. Her feathery white hair had been combed into a style that looked like... he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He noted with amusement that she wore her usual flight suit underneath the satin gown. He guessed that the world was just not yet quite ready for alien cleavage. The entire effect was exotic and sylph-like, though, and not at all unattractive.

She nodded at his compliment, and was seated across from him. She'd clearly been coached by someone, Elaine probably, as he watched her cross her legs at the ankles with exaggerated grace, and accepted a glass of champagne. He shook his head in amusement as she took a sip, and met his eyes with a shocked look of revulsion. He laughed, he couldn't help it.

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder then, and he turned to smile at Sophia.

"Nice dress. Just something you had laying around, huh?"

She smoothed the folds of her midnight-blue gown, and said with an affected, exaggerated pout, "Oh, this old thing?" and then favored him with a rather unladylike smirk.

x x x

It was strange to be shaking hands with Teddy Sanders, who'd almost gotten him killed, in the receiving line. He'd been told that Sanders had been devastated when they'd lost signal with Iris 2; but it was hard not to remember those endless days of starvation when he looked at the man tonight. He forced himself to smile politely and nod. "Good to see you again, Watney," he'd said cheerfully, as he introduced his wife.

Rick Martinez and his wife, Marissa were next, followed by Johanssen and Beck. Beth was looking very stylish, he noted, in a sleek black gown that showcased her slim figure. Mark couldn't help noticing a tiny, but unmistakable new curve at her waistline. Was she pregnant?! It seemed like an endless parade of people to greet and shake hands with. His hands were hurting, his back ached fiercely, and finally his legs were about to start shaking in protest. "Need a break," he whispered to Sophia, and made his way to a chair. He checked the time; he'd been on his feet over an hour. Not bad.

Oaiea was holding her own, gamely shaking hands with all and sundry, smiling, even though Mark happened to know that she was distinctly uncomfortable with being touched. Mark wasn't sure, but he thought maybe she might be afraid of human germs. She did a good job hiding it, tonight. An elderly John Schneider approached her then, and Oaiea seemed to have a genuine moment of confusion as she tried to figure out why she recognized him; then she burst out into musical laughter as she finally recognized Bo Duke.

x x x

"A few more pictures," Elaine motioned for him, "of Mark Watney, together with the guest of honor." He'd caught his breath by then, and his legs still hurt, but he could make it, he thought.

He posed, smiling, standing next to Oaiea; then, nothing else would do except for the entire Ares 3 crew to be assembled for a group picture with the president and Oaiea.

Martinez found a moment, of course, to give Mark a hard time about his date for the evening. "Air Force girls, man. They're hardcore. And she's like half your age-you really think you can handle all that?" he leered at Mark suggestively.

Beck chimed in, "Mark, you and Sophia Roberts? That's really a thing?"

"Would you two shut up?" Mark rolled his eyes. "And she's not half my age."

"He didn't deny it!" Martinez gloated.

x x x

Finally, they were seated at a round table near the podium, as the rest of the guests slowly took their seats. Menu cards were laid across the plates. Mark was less than pleased to note that the first course was some sort of potato-encrusted fish. Thanks a lot, Elaine, he thought. He wondered idly whether Oaiea had tried out human food yet. Would it make her sick, as her food had done to him? Her space sludge had been, as near as he could tell, some sort of by-product from the ship's fuel. No wonder it tasted bad. Oaiea had taken only the tiniest of sips of her champagne earlier that evening, she clearly hadn't liked it at all. Then again, champagne was pretty sour; it was something of an acquired taste. Mark checked the time.

It was almost time for President Roberts to make his brief speech.