Ensign Talon Morda: Getting out of way, going to touch dirt
Eston Melton
((Junior Officer’s Living Quarters, Room 149, USS Khitomer))
OOC: Let’s tie it up and let our characters get roaming around shore leave :-)
Morda: Okay. Well. Can I help you out? And/or, can I get you a sandwich? ::Looking over at the sink:: Provided there’s water to wash your hands.
Sparks: ::beaming brightly:: That is sure nice of you sir! I’ll be done in about six shakes of a donkey’s tail providin’ this is the only pipe they done tore through…You go enjoy your dinner, I will make sure to put it all to rights before bedtime, just you wait!
The ensign paused, and not because of hot cheese dripping onto his index finger. In truth, he had no mechanical aptitude for plumbing. He’d probably get in Sparks’ way, aggravating them both and prolonging the repairs.
Morda: I’d slow you down anyway, so I’ll leave you to wrap up. I’ll going to find somewhere else to chip in where I won’t cause more harm than good, so don’t rush on my account.
He headed back into the corridor. Like him, the rest of Alpha Team was clocked out this shift. He remembered a quip he’d made wondering about the kind of damage the filaments would cause in the arboretum. He suspected it was low on the priority list -- maybe he could atone a bit for that torpedo launch by helping replant something.
NT/End