[sb118-eagle]Lieutenant Drex - Lieutenant Green Thumb
Drex Drex
((Drex’s quarters - Deck 4 - USS Eagle))
Drex sat in his dimly lit quarters, his mind still fogged by the memories of the mission. The tension in his shoulders was a constant reminder of what had happened, even though the details remained unclear. He had taken a life. He had been stunned and restrained, with his consciousness slipping in and out of focus.
He woke up in sickbay, the sterile hum of the room setting his pulse racing as he tried to piece together what had occurred. The only thing he was sure of was that he had been under close watch ever since, his every move shadowed by the keen eye of Lieutenant Porus. The security officer had not only kept him under surveillance, but had also ensured Drex’s recovery involved an exhausting, brutal training session in a combat simulation.
Porus was a “true” Klingon, a stark contrast to Drex’s own quieter, more thoughtful nature. The session had been cruel. Every time Drex faltered, Porus pushed him harder. He forced Drex to fight through the simulation, even though all he wanted was to escape into his mind, to forget the chaos and confusion that lingered in his memory.
The ship was currently in shore leave, but Drex’s duties had not totally stopped. He still had to cover part of his shifts and follow Commander Alora from time to time in his role as Science Chief Assistant. But the moment his responsibilities were over, the last thing he wanted was interaction. Craving solitude, he retreated to his quarters and locked the door behind him.
Drex stared at the canvas in front of him and felt an unfamiliar weight pressing down on his chest. His brush hovered over the dark streaks of color he had been adding, each swipe a stark contrast to the lighter, more vibrant hues that once characterized his art. It was supposed to be a release, an escape, a way to express himself, but today, the paint was not flowing the way it used to. His paintings had always been full of life, light and joy. But now… He could not recognize them.
He considered heading to the Holodeck to run a sailing program. Maybe he could escape to the ocean, wind in his hair, salt in the air, and just lose himself in the endless horizon. It was the one place where he could forget everything else, where the weight of his duties, his emotions and his fears could all melt away. But the thought of running into crew members there, of seeing their knowing looks, their casual conversations about the mission, made him reconsider his idea.
The one place where he still found solace was in the company of Commander Alora’s daughter. The little girl, barely a year old, had become a source of comfort for him. Her wide, curious eyes, her innocent laughter, it was a kind of peace that he could not find anywhere else. She had no expectations, no judgments. He used to babysit her, but lately, the feeling that something had changed in him, and the thought of being alone with her made him hesitate. He could not bear the thought of losing control, of not being able to protect her, of his own turmoil spilling out and scaring her.
So now, he visited her only when Bini was around. The presence of the Bolian woman gave him the comfort of knowing he would not slip. He could smile at the little girl, listen to her babbling, watch as she reached for toys with a squeal of delight and it would almost feel normal again.
The chirp of the door pulled Drex out of his daze. He flinched, eyes narrowing toward the sound as if trying to determine whether it was real or another intrusion from his restless mind. He was not expecting anyone, especially not after making it perfectly clear to most of the crew that he needed space.
For a moment, he considered ignoring it, pretending to be asleep. But he knew better. The computer would betray him, informing the visitor that Lieutenant Drex was inside, awake, and fully capable of answering the door.
With a tired groan, he stood. A glance at the painting made his stomach twist. He did not want anyone to see it, so he grabbed the nearest blanket and threw it over the canvas.
He smoothed down his shirt, scrubbed a hand over his face, and moved toward the door.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing Commander Alora. But what caught Drex off guard was not her presence, it was the small figure clinging to her back, head resting against her shoulder, Captain Twibble dangling from one chubby hand.
Drex blinked, a surprised breath catching in his throat.
Drex: Alora… Shyla.
As the doors parted, Alora stepped forward, a gentle smile curving her lips as she pushed a small cart into the room. Nestled on top, in a neat cluster of ceramic pots, were several blooming African violets, their delicate petals displaying a vibrant array of colors.
DeVeau: Hey Drex. I’ve got something for you.
Unsure whether to protest or retreat, the Denobulan found himself sidestepping almost instinctively. If he did not, he would be run over by the very determined Commander and her cart.
Drex: What can I do for you, Alora? :: His eyes landed on the flowers, but soon returned to the two ladies ::
DeVeau: I come bearing a gift. I wanted to give you an African Violet, and should have done this a long time ago.
Drex blinked. His gaze drifted back to the flowers, uncertainty flickering across his face.
Drex: They’re… beautiful. But you surely know, I’m not exactly known for keeping plants alive.
DeVeau: Response
Drex’s gaze shifted to Shyla, who was patting Alora’s shoulder. The little girl’s wide eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a genuine smile appeared on Drex’s face, sweet, helpless, and unexpectedly warm.
Drex: Looks like you’ve found your gentle chiri.
((OOC: chiri is an imaginary rideable creature from Denobulan lore, Drex often told Denobulan tales to the little kid. ))
DeVeau: Response
Drex looked down for a moment, his smile fading just enough to reveal the weight beneath. Then he met her gaze, nodding slowly.
Drex: Thanks, Alora. :: He cleared his throat then gestured toward the room with a wry grin. :: So… where should I place my little violet? Preferably a place where she won’t need my help to survive. :: He chuckled ::
DeVeau: Response
TAGS / TBC