[JP] Lt. Marshall & Lt. (JG) Josett - Commonalities (Part I)

Skip to first unread message

Quinn Reynolds

Aug 26, 2019, 7:12:50 PM8/26/19
to Gorkon (IC)

((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon))

::Day blended into day, the mind-numbing routine of life aboard a starship. The uniform felt tight (it wasn't), the people had no sense of humour (they did, it just wasn't hers), and all she seemed to do all day was stare at black screens and yellow writing (mostly accurate). After another duty shift of monotony, another session at the gym because what else was there to do on this perfect, sterile ship, she'd sat in her newly-assigned, utterly bland quarters and stared at the ceiling. Lena managed a whole three minutes before throwing her hands up in frustration, hauling herself off the couch and heading for the door.

::She had given him space on purpose. Coming back from undercover work, the hybrid figured he needed the time to reintegrate and settle back into his normal life. Only, if the rumours were true (wasn't it funny, how easily people could be encouraged to gossip?), he was managing that with even less grace and success as she was. And so there she was, nudging the chime to his quarters with her thumb, waiting for a reply.::

::It was possible that inside said quarters, something the weight of a small elephant had hit the deck at the chime, as it was also feasible that a sizeable chunk of the ceiling had somehow chosen that moment to dislodge from the frame and plummet to the floor. A more reasonable assertion would be that one Orson Marshall — fast asleep on the sofa following a torrid affair with a previously full bottle of Saurian brandy — had awoken suddenly and slumped a not-terribly-considerable distance, planting his face into the carpet.

::And from there, his vocalised command to whoever was at the door came singing through in groggy muffled tones.::

O. Marshall: Come in. 

::The doors parted, and there Lena was, leaning her shoulder on the edge of the frame. The hybrid looked down at him, curls sliding over her shoulder as her head cocked to the side.:: 

Josett: Hello stranger. 

::Without waiting for an invitation, she pushed off from her leaning post and strolled inside, heading directly for the couch. Seeking neither permission nor forgiveness, Lena scooped the bottle off the table and sniffed the dregs left inside, lifting it to her lips to polish the rest off.:: 

O. Marshall: I might've been… drinking that. ::He blinked away the fuzziness of addled brain cells, caught in a perpetual loop of what the hell are you trying to do to me as he pushed himself up from his impromptu plank position.:: Why are you… here?

Josett: I thought you could use a friend. From the way you and the Romulan were going on, I was expecting you to return to the welcoming arms of friends and family, while she was ostracised by everyone who'd ever acknowledged her existence. Instead, she's rushed off planetside with an excessively attractive petty officer and... ::Lena raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth twitching upwards.:: ...you've been hugged by a Ferengi?

O. Marshall: Gna… Hey, Gnaxac is a treasure to this drosshole of a galaxy. ::A heartbeat passed as the rest of the sentence filtered through his cognitive functions.:: And Soup isn't that attractive.  

::Of that fact he was absolutely certain; a point made with an extended finger gun toward the hybrid and what would've been a wink if he'd had proper control of all motor functions at that given time. Instead, it just appeared as though he'd forgotten how to blink halfway through the motion and made it up as best as he knew how.::

Josett: I'll take you at your word for the first, ::she deposited herself on the couch, boots straight up on the coffee table,:: and as for the second, ::she ruffled his blond hair, then wrinkled her nose at the damp coating her palm. She wiped her hand on the shoulder of his t-shirt, continuing on.:: Don't worry, you're still pretty too.  

O. Marshall: Flattery won't bring my brandy back.

::In a sequence of movements, entirely coordinated by a body not entirely coordinated, Bear dropped onto the sofa beside her, bare feet on the coffee table next to hers, the back of his head sank onto the backrest of the sofa. A giant huff escaped him; the kind that emptied the lungs for a fresh inhale in one fell swoop, expelling notes of pent up melancholy with it.::

Josett: That bad, huh. ::The words escaped through a chuckle, and Lena patted his thigh.:: So what's going on?

O. Marshall: I don't know. ::His hand lifted in a small but helpless gesture, then thudded back down on his leg with all the leaden weight of an unattached limb.:: Do you ever get the feeling that you're not where you're supposed to be?

::Lena breathed out a disenchanted laugh, the question running to the heart of the discomfort she'd felt for days. Each morning, before setting out for her shift, the person staring back at her in the mirror was not the person she thought — that she knew — she really was.::

Josett: Every time I put on the uniform.

O. Marshall: Somewhere… Somewhere ::the word emphasised in seperate halves,:: along the line something whacked out of alignment and hasn't slotted back into place yet. I was a Ranger, it was easy. Get in, do the job, get out. None of this, ::his nose wrinkled, the distaste of a sour morning in his mouth,:: hangover. 

::The hybrid laced her hands over her stomach, his words settling with an uncomfortable weight. As she sank into the couch, it was almost as though they exerted a physical pressure, forcing the air out of her lungs. She'd been undercover because she was good at it. She was good at it because it was a life she knew much, much better than the one currently holding her hostage. Obligations, responsibilities, commitments. Things that couldn't be dropped whenever she wanted. People who couldn't be dropped whenever she wanted.::

Josett: We're not talking about the Ferengi anymore, are we.

::Bear shook his head from side to side, unsure where one movement started and the other ended, everything passing in front of his eyes in a semi-blur before he stopped, a little dazed and disoriented. Lies were convenient and cheap, and the best part was, after a while, he even started believing them himself.::

O. Marshall: No one really gets it. They think they do. ::He nodded his head, though is carried on nodding until it slowed to a stop.:: But they don't. What's worse, really, is figuring out if it's the weight of all of this, ::his finger traced an invisible circle in mid-air,:: or the incessant knack we've developed to stomach it.

::While he spoke, Lena let her head roll to the side and watched him. Watched the torpid gestures, listened to the languid words, saw the dark cloud in the summer sky of his eyes. Oddly, she found it less entertaining than she expected. It was the melancholy threading through it all, the sense that he was far less content with his situation than he led anyone to believe.::

Josett: My knack's that I'm an emotionally stunted war orphan. ::She smirked at him.:: What's your excuse?

O. Marshall: And lose some of my mystery? ::Asked with a lift of an eyebrow and a wry grin toward the hybrid officer, echoing the words she's said to him of an evening on the Scream, then it fell from his face with a swallow.:: You're a war orphan?

Josett: An emotionally stunted one. ::She chuckled, lifting her shoulders in a carefree shrug that didn't really suit the topic. Deflect. Don't treat it seriously. Then no one else will.:: No ties. Makes for an excellent pirate. And intelligence officer.

O. Marshall: Huh. 

::His whole upper body moved with the word, like the start of an expelled laugh with none of the mirth. His fingers found the sockets of his eyes as he leant forward, his elbow resting on his knee.  The same hand ran up over his head, through hair slick with the sweat of sleep, head fuzzy and thoughts more so.::

O. Marshall: If I get in the shower, can I trust you not to drink the rest of my stash?

Josett: Your first mistake was telling me that you have one. 

O. Marshall: What was the second?



Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Logistics and Communications Officer

USS Gorkon



Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon


Reply all
Reply to author
0 new messages