LtCmdr Connor Dewitt - Welcome Home!
Tim
((Connor’s and Ayemet’s Quarters, USS Khitomer))
The mission was finally behind them. With the ship now pulling away from the bright tendrils of the stellar nursery, Connor could at last return to his quarters, a luxury he’d been denied during the chaos of the last few days.
When the doors to his quarters slid open with their familiar pneumatic sigh, Connor stepped into what should have been his sanctuary - clean lines, uncluttered surfaces, and the quiet order he relied on after long shifts in Main Engineering. Instead, he froze mid-step. A tangle of shredded replicator napkins lay scattered like snow across the carpet. One of Ayemet’s carefully folded meditation mats was halfway across the room, trailing bits of what looked like chewed-up synthleather. And near the window, an overturned food bowl had left a slick trail that had dried into a sticky patch beneath the curved glass table.
He let out a slow breath, resisting the instinct to mutter something under his breath. This wasn’t battle damage, or a systems failure. This was puppy damage. The tiny, fur-covered whirlwind he and Ayemet had lovingly adopted at their wedding, and who had apparently staged a solo mutiny during their abscence. Somewhere in the mess, a wagging tail thumped softly against a wall, followed by the cautious tip-tap of paws on the deck plating where the carpet had been ripped from the floor.
Connor stepped carefully over a slobbery chew toy, eyeing the chaos with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. As much as he hated disorder, the sight was - at least for a moment - almost endearing. He spotted one of his uniform jackets in a heap near the couch, a new constellation of teeth marks across the collar. He sighed.
C.Dewitt: I hope you have a very good explanation for this.
From behind the sofa, two floppy ears appeared, followed by a sheepish little face and a belly-low crawl of pure guilt. Connor’s stern expression cracked just a little as the puppy crept closer, tail wagging like a white flag. He crouched down and scratched behind the little creature’s ears.
C. Dewitt: ::murmuring:: You’re lucky you’re cute…
His heart was torn between rage and love as his head was already planning a full clean-up and a strongly worded chat with Ayemet about puppy-proofing protocol.
Connor was still crouched beside the now thoroughly apologetic puppy when the doors behind him opened. He glanced over his shoulder just as his wife stepped inside, no doubt expecting the same sanctuary she had left behind. Instead, her eyes landed on the debris field scattered across the living area. Upended cushions, gnawed decor, a mysteriously missing slipper, the full picture.
And then her eyes flicked to Connor, who was now holding a slobbery squeaky ball in one hand and wearing an expression that hovered somewhere between exasperated and amused. He straightened up slowly, brushing crumbs off his uniform pants and giving her a look that tried, and failed, to be entirely serious.
C.Dewitt: Ayemet…. ::pause:: Welcome home….
She said nothing at first. Or maybe she did, Connor wasn’t sure he heard, distracted by the way she took a slow step further into the room, assessing the damage. He watched her face closely, trying to read her reaction before it formed fully.
Ayemet: Response?
The puppy, sensing another shift in the room's atmosphere, padded forward and sat squarely between them, tail wagging hesitantly. A soft whine escaped its throat, as if offering a preemptive apology.
C.Dewitt: I was going to suggest a leash. Or maybe we install an emergency containment field.
Ayemet: Response
TAG/TBC
LtCmdr Connor Dewitt
Chief Engineer & Second Officer
USS Khitomer
A239901CD3