[JP] Lt. Marshall & Lt. (JG) Josett - Commonalities (Part II)
Jo Marshall
((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon))
Josett: Harbouring any hope that I wouldn't. ::She grinned at him, then waved in the direction of the bedroom, or rather, the bathroom she knew lay beyond it.:: Go on. I'll summon the willpower to behave, just the once.
::Taking the time to get to his feet, on wobbly foundations at best, Bear narrowed his eyes at her for a split second before he pulled his shirt over his head and threw it at her. She laughed, catching it in the face as he disappeared into the bedroom beyond the arch. A sonic shower wouldn't cut it this time; water, the colder the better, to get those brain cells moving once again. Before he stepped into it, he angled around the arch.::
O. Marshall: I'd say make yourself at home, but you've already been here, so…
::Her chuckle could be seen in her exposed throat, her head laid on the back of the couch as she looked toward him.::
Josett: If you really meant it, you'd let me at your stash.
O. Marshall: Have at it, if you'll make me coffee.
::With two-fingered salute and a broad grin, she heaved herself up, heading directly toward the replicator. Minutes later, the blonde reappeared, running his fingers through his hair to get it somewhat manageable. A pensive look on his face, grounded more in the present than the past as he tugged up his shorts around his hips.::
O. Marshall: Intelligence might be something.
::Unashamedly enjoying the view, Lena held out a mug of steaming coffee, her hand wrapped around one of her own. Granted, hers didn't entirely consist of the bitter brew, the fiery bite of liquor mixed with the hearty scent of roasted beans.::
Josett: You'd be good at it.
::Mug gratefully received, his head still trying to revolve like a spinning top, Bear leaned his shoulder on the archway through to his bedroom. His teeth sank into his cheek as he contemplated the idea, as the seed took root and grew branches.::
O. Marshall: It's whether Reynolds would support it. We've seen eye to eye once in a year, and that was over Valesha.
::The hybrid parked herself against a bulkhead, leaning her weight on it. With a sip of her coffee, relishing the liquor's rawness in her throat, she raised her eyebrows in his direction. One of the advantages of her situation had been that she hadn't spent much time in the presence of her superiors. She'd filed reports with her handler, and taken orders the same way, and there had been a satisfying amount of distance involved in the whole arrangement.::
Josett: How come?
O. Marshall: Because when she's wrong about something, it's an occasion to mark on the ship's calendar. ::His eyebrows lifted, eyes barely rolling toward ceiling.:: And she's not been wrong about me.
::Bear scratched at his beard growing through on his cheeks; a stubble the product of days confining himself to quarters for fear of running into someone he'd rather he didn't. Another sip of coffee turned his mind in another direction, eyes still heavily burdened by latent hangover as he looked up at the dark-curled hybrid.::
O. Marshall: How do you know her?
Josett: I don't. I've had orders come down the line, but I'd never met her before coming aboard.
O. Marshall: She's an interesting woman. ::And, surprisingly, he meant it. There were few people, living or dead, that Bear would graciously bow out to.:: Of course, it means you have the pleasure of dealing with my face for a while longer.
Josett: Oh no.
::Lena grinned, a finger tapping against her mug as she contemplated the idea. They had worked well together on the Scream, and he'd been fun besides. More fun than anyone else she'd met on the ship so far, though the dour faces of the small intelligence department didn't set a particularly high bar in that regard. That left one consideration; how it could be encouraged to come to pass.::
Josett: You want to do it indirectly. Get Ross on your side, have him propose the idea to her. Former Ranger, just pulled off a successful undercover mission with virtually no prep or support... ::She shrugged a shoulder.:: It's not a hard sell.
O. Marshall: Not for you, maybe. ::His teeth worked against his tongue for a moment.:: If Reynolds' has my cards marked, Ross does too. Nkai will have made his feelings known. ::He exhaled, then downed the rest of his coffee, pointing at her with the empty mug.:: You, on the other hand…
Josett: If you wrapped that request around a brick and threw it at me, it would be almost as subtle. ::She chuckled, working her way through her coffee at a much slower pace than he.:: What's it worth?
::He pushed himself off the arch with a flicker of an eyebrow toward her, then regretted it. Such was a Saurian brandy hangover that the follicles attached to hair hurt more than the head. Sliding the mug back into the replicator, he watched it reduce to atoms once more and punched his finger tip in for another.::
O. Marshall: My eternal gratitude? Compliments at regular intervals from now until my untimely death? Failing that, my extensive collection of absolutely nothing? ::Newly replicated coffee in hand, he tilted his head.:: Question is, what do you want that won't see me in the brig?
Josett: I have absolutely no idea. Yet. ::Sipping from her mug, she inclined her head toward him.:: Owe me a favour, then?
O. Marshall: What's another added to the growing list I owe you already?
Josett: They are my favourite currency.
O. Marshall: Though not as easy to hide under the mattress.
::Even in the back of his semi-sobering headspace, Bear recalled a particular notion from the Bajoran people during times of strife. Though the phrasing was lost, as a few things had to the ages, it meant "mid predicament, find opportunity", and Lena seemed to embody both halves at once. Leaning on his back foot, he narrowed his eyes with a wry grin.::
O. Marshall: If you're willing to go forth and be my advocate, I'll owe you one. Maybe two, if you play your cards right. ::Though, that sparked an idea.:: How about I play you for it? Hair of the dog, winner takes all.
::It was immediately obvious that the idea had caught her fancy, a wicked smile catching her lips, an intrigued turn of her head. Extending one of the fingers curled around her mug toward him, she chuckled.::
Josett: Now that does sound like fun.
O. Marshall: On the condition I pick the game, you pick the drink.
::Drawing in a breath, Lena considered the terms. Win or lose, it would be more entertaining than anything else she'd done since coming aboard. Surely enough to chase away the twin demons of boredom and agitation, and let her feel a little bit more like herself for a time. With a crafty smile, she dipped her head in a quick, sharp nod.::
Josett: You have a deal.
TBC...
--
Lieutenant Orson Marshall
Logistics and Communications Officer
USS Gorkon
G239304JM0
&
Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett
Intelligence Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0