((Deck 1, Captain’s Ready Room, USS Arrow))
Shayne sat with his legs crossed.
This was strange, because it was causing him some amount of pain. He’d always looked wondrously at those that could sit comfortably with their legs crossed- how did one not lose sensation while the other remained free of pins and needles? But he’d found it lended an air of authority, and lackadaisical interest- precisely the sort of appearance he wished to convey at this moment.
The door chimed, and he took a breath before responding.
Not the more casual “come on in”- but then again, this wasn’t quite the meeting he’d expected it to be when he’d requested it.
The doors slid open, and in entered the humanoid of the hour. His facial hair, though not held in the long, flowing fashion that was so attachable to Efrosian men, distinguished him immediately, and the captain wondered- rather childishly- how he’d look with white hair.
Shayne: Thank you for coming, Ensign. Please sit.
Shayne waited for the ensign’s reaction before continuing, his face a blend of airy friendship and piercing curiosity.
Shayne: Care for something to drink?
As Shayne turned to retrieve the order, he couldn’t help his impatience any longer.
Shayne: I admit, Mr. Ar’Gorvalei- I scheduled this meeting to get to know you just a little better. A strictly informal thing. Of course, that was before certain rumors reached my ears.
He turned back around, and kept his face stony.
Shayne: Rumors of… an atacolypse.
He raised his eyebrow, dad joke successfully delivered.
Captain Randal Shayne