Lt JG Trovek Arys - Personal Person

[Arys Trova]

((T’Lea’s Quarters))

Trovek: You stole my sweater. 

 

Arys watched as T’Lea to turned and faced her. 

To her dismay, the Counselor realised in that very moment that she probably wouldn’t manage to stay angry at the Romu-Vulc.

After all, she was her inner child’s playmate. She also could be slightly terrifying and Arys preferred her as a friend, not an enemy. That, and she wanted to talk to someone about what happened, and she didn’t trust anyone aside that woman who already knew too much about her. 

 

T’Lea:  What?  I did no such thing.  You loaned it to me at the ceremony.

 

Trovek: ::narrowing her eyes:: That was days ago. I got sick. I blame you. 

 

T’Lea:  I assure you a sweater would not have prevented your ailment.  But if you must assign guilt because your immune system is insufficient, so be it.  Why are you standing outside?

 

Trovek: Because I-… because you didn’t ask me inside your quarters. Rude.

oO A privilege only Sival has, if the rumours are true. Oo 

 

T’Lea:  I’ll get your damn sweater.  Wait here, inside.

 

Arys rolled her eyes and stepped inside, being somewhat surprised that those quarters actually looked a little more lived-in than the last time she had visited. She looked around for the dead plant, before her attention got caught by a tank of fish. 

She had seen then somewhere before, what were they called again? 

Wasps? No, that was something else. 

Whisps? Yeah, that was it. 

 

From inside her sleeping room, T’Lea was muttering something. 

T’Lea:  Frell.

 

Trovek: What’s wrong? 

Arys didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. 

 

T’Lea: Nothing.  Watch the fish and your irritability will subside.  I’ll be out in a moment.

 

The Counselor sighed and did exactly that. They were nice. 

Just that the fish reminded her of the Èkú she had seen at Fèřafèřaý Geb. 

And that reminded her of the company she had. 

And how this company had given her the flu. 

Idiot.

 

T’Lea:  How fond are you of this sweater?

Arys tilted her head, she hadn’t noticed her Ex-XO return from her quest. She didn’t really care about the sweater. Just that saying so would be boring.

 

Trovek: Very. My grandfather gave it to me on his deathbed. It’s the last memory I have of an intact family. 

 

T’Lea:  ::mumble:: That’s unfortunate.

 

Trovek: ::raising an eyebrow:: What was that?

 

T’Lea:  Nothing.  Here.  Thank you.  It was very warm.

Arys narrowed her eyes, but for now, she wouldn’t press the issue. Instead, she sipped from her mug of coffee, once more turning her attention to the fish. 

T'Lea:  What ailment are you suffering?

Trovek: Craat’s disease. It’s harmless. A kind of flu that affected only Cardassian children until it mutated. 

T’Lea: 

Trovek: Yes, it’s all very funny until you remember that the virus was most likely allowed to mutate during the Occupation. Either way I am not contagious, thanks to Mister Sival. ::smirking:: He is quite pleasant, isn’t he?

She looked at the Romu-Vulc expectantly as she got up, conscious of the time.  

T’Lea: 

As they made their way to the turbolift, Arys decided to press the matter a little more. 

Trovek: Do you speak to him a lot? Sival. It’s nice to have someone, isn’t it? Even if it’s just for fun. Not everything has to mean something, right? But it’s nicer when it means something.

She also wanted such a person. 

She had such a person. 

Probably.

Kind of? 

Maybe. 

… Unlikely 

Bleh. 

*****************

Lt. J.G. Trovek Arys 

Counselor 

USS Juneau 

J239809TA4