THIRTY-TWO: Observation
Shral awoke from a light doze to the quiet murmur of his Terran host in the background, beyond the bedroom doors. The pile of blankets and sheets which had served to keep her warm in the night was twisted and appeared to have been kicked partially off of the edge of the Terran-style bed. It was odd, sleeping on a raised platform and not in the more den-like beds he was familiar with – several times, he had awoken with a start, having nearly rolled off the edge of the mattress in his sleep. It had not been a pleasant feeling.
Intrigued by the noise emanating from the common area of Dagmar's home, Shral rolled onto his feet and, straightening his sleep-rumpled clothes, went to investigate.
As the doors which led from the dark bedroom slid open, light and sound –music- filtered in. It was a slow, elegant piece, lacking words or any vocalization. A waltz, he thought, though Terran music was somewhat different from that of Andoria. His host had several PADDs spread out across the counter, and she leaned over them, one arm braced against the counter and the other holding a mug of what smelled like katheka to her lips. Her eyes, a bright and attractive blue, darted this way that, and despite the mug before her lips, she did not drink – silently mouthing the sections she appeared to have difficulty translating until they made sense. The high ponytail which she had drawn her hair into swayed with the smallest movements of her head, like a strange pendulum.
She worked at a rapid pace, but he saw that she was also thorough, and frequently referenced older, completed works to ensure continuity in her translations and to correct any errors. Pale fingers tapped periodically at the devices splayed before her, inputting this and deleting that. At length, her arm seemed to grow tired from holding up the mug of untouched and rapidly cooling katheka, and she set the mug aside, on a precarious perch near the edge of the counter-top.
He had never witnessed her work in her element before, when she was not present during meetings which required active translations; he was fascinated. As she did not appear to have noticed the doors to her room open and close before and after him, he leaned against a nearby wall, close to the Human, and observed her. He stood at the very edges of her peripheral vision, and folded his arms comfortably, antennae pointed forwards and green eyes attentive.
He watched the way she worked, the focus in her eyes and body language, until he grew bored and simply observed her body – the curve of her waist, of the small of her back, the strength of her long legs and the frame of her shoulders, and the set of her jaw. He had observed the Human woman before, on dozens of occasions, but never with so much leisure. He noted scars and other small marks which he had not detected before, small and nearly invisible from age and proper tending.
Strange, that he had not noticed such things before, in closer and more intimate moments.
After a time, the green-eyed Andorian stepped into Dagmar's peripheral vision properly, the movement attracting her attention, and he greeted her with a murmured hello and the familiar press of his palm against hers. She seemed to enjoy the familiarity, as he did, so he saw no reason to cease engaging in it; she always smiled warmly when she saw his proffered hand, and he was not so unobservant as to fail to notice that she reacted more warmly to his greeting than to Thelen's.
No, she and Thelen were not playmates. The two were very close, yes, but not in that particular fashion.
"Morning," The Human female greeted, curling her fingers between his as she pressed her pale palm to his healthy blue one. "Did you sleep well?"
It was a variation of the traditional gesture, but the act did not cause him to bristle as it might have some of his elders. That a Human was performing the gesture at all was a deviation from tradition as well, and the alteration she had made suited the situation… though, he once again lamented, she did not understand the full implications.
"I did. Yourself?" The niceties, for once, did not feel like niceties; it was a novel feeling for the aide.
Dagmar smiled a Human smile, revealing teeth which were not as sharp as his or any other Andorians, but healthy nonetheless. "I did, actually. It's surprisingly nice to have company."
A Human male, no doubt, might have misinterpreted the statement, but Shral did not. He took the statement for what it was – an expression of gratitude for simple comfort offered and given, but not at all an invitation for anything further.
Shral did not miss the faint relief on her face as she realized that her phrasing had not been misconstrued, even as the woman turned away and began to flit about the kitchen in search of food like the very red bat she had once, inelegantly, been compared to. Amusement curved his antennae as he watched; it was plain to see that Dagmar was not used to Andorian cooking, or the Andorian style of kitchens, which did not have many of the Human appliances she was familiar with. After a beat, the only Andorian present took pity on her, breaking with tradition just once to help her in making their morning meal; the hosts served the guests, under normal circumstances.
Left to her own devices, however, he wasn't sure she could reliably serve anything other than katheka or possibly fridd on a good day.
Sorry for the delay in updating guys! It's been crazy busy on my end of things, but it's all starting to settle down now! Thank you to everyone who reviewed and poked and prodded me until I updated!
