Commodore Taybrim - A Toast
Jamie LeBlanc
(( Taybrim's Office - Starbase 118 ))
Sal Taybrim was a trusting sort. Sometimes to a fault.
One would think that being the target of Romulan and Orion Syndicate assassins for nearly two years would have pounded paranoia into the ginger Commodore, but while it had made him cautious and aware, he still loved people and therefore trusted them.
The biometric scans that allowed the commodore into the office he retained on StarBase 118 still functioned perfectly within normal parameters, but there was a … warmth? Yes, some sort of warmth to the door. A lingering empathic echo that his heightened empathic senses picked up on.
Well, assassins were rarely warm, but Sal Taybrim was on his guard as he walked inside.
McLaren: Computer... lights.
He jumped, startled enough that he jerked a gaze towards the voice, but not flustered enough to make a scene. The expression calmed almost immediately and it went from surprise to humor.
Taybrim: Well, you got me. How did you know I’d be here?
He didn’t have to even ask how she got into his office. She had personally tested the security systems. She was perhaps the only person on StarBase 118 other than himself that could get in here.
McLaren: You know me Sal... I know everything.
He grinned, laughing a bit at himself.
Taybrim: Or you’re just betting that I’m a creature of habit and when shore leave calls I show up like the party-sniffing Commodore I am.
He raised his brows as if to say that both were true. She crossed the room and in a moment the jokes dropped and they came together for a warm and brotherly hug.
McLaren: Thats for the kind words you said about me during the last party we had... and for the bottle of whiskey.
As they broke apart he clasped his hand against his chest, with an appropriate look of melodramatic consternation.
Taybrim: Well if this is my punishment, I will surely have to do it again sometime.
His dark eyes twinkled merrily. He would never not enjoy seeing people who did well be celebrated for it, and he would never not be there for his dear friends.
She took a step back and gave him a light punch on the shoulder.
Sal, being the youngest of three brothers had taken many such punches in his day, and he had perfected the art of the ‘injured youngest brother’ pantomime, which he performed woith all due humorous effect.
Taybrim: And what was that for? ::he asked rubbing the area which certainly didn’t hurt, but he offered a bit of melodrama to his smile.::
McLaren: That was for making me cry in front of the crew... don't you know I have an image to uphold? :: She laughed again. :: Can't rightly do that with tears in my eyes, now can I?
Grinning once again, he clasped a hand to his chest.
Taybrim: Then I am truly sorry, though I admit I would do it again in a heartbeat.
McLaren: ?
He gestured towards the overstuffed couches and chairs that sat directly next to the minibar.
Taybrim: Let me mix something or us. What’s your poison tonight? I have a few selections from Kinney’s stash.
McLaren: ?
He started working on the drink orders, slowly, so he could concentrate and converse at the same time.
Taybrim: Yes, I heard all about Capricalia. Their communication to the Federation representatives is now being routed through Raskor. So if anyone tries to re-route that, or intercept it we’ll be alerted well before it becomes a crisis.
McLaren: ?
He took a deep breath in and turned, offering her a drink, a second on in his own hand, before he settled.
Taybrim: I have thoughts on the Romulan incursion, but before we turn to that… ::he lifted his glass in a toast:: cheers! Congratulations on another successful mission!
McLaren: ?
He took a drink, enjoying the smoothness of the Aldeberan whiskey and how well it played with the notes of Altosian bitters.
Taybrim: Success is always a good thing to celebrate. I think Commander Fairhug and his crew will have a lot to celebrate this leave.
McLaren: ?
~*~
tags/tbc
~*~
Commodore Sal Taybrim
Sector Commander
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0