Peccatum Enim Est Infinitum

(Closed) - I’llnotbeagentleman

@spockofbothworlds:

Stepping over Petakov carefully, Sama made his way from his place at Merikh’s side to stand over the box, he bent a bit, lowering a hand in slowly, the rats gathering around and sniffing at him, until he could gently scoop Gimpy up. “It’s certainly a possibility, although I’ve often seen injured creatures on Earth perservere over their injury by paying it no mind. A three legged dog will run just as fast as a four legged dog, if it’s able. They tend to not let disabilities hinder them.”

He gave a little shrug. “It’s all worth taking another look at, I suppose…but…did you want to take your shower first?”

Spock carefully watched at the way he treated the little biomechanical pets, and how he lifted Gimpy up with an admirable calmth. He could have a closer look at the leg and the joints, even though he kept moving. It was hard to determine exactly what was the fault in either his design or his genetics, if there were. Perhaps it was the way he was meant to be. Gimpy seemed to mind in the very least that he was missing an extra paw.

"Does he seem to be experiencing any kind of pain from it? Or did he ever? If he doesn’t and we cannot find the problem, perhaps amputation is the better option in his case. He does not seem to be bothered by having it dragging behind him after all." Spock came to the logical conclusion. In the end such a decision would be Sama’s to make.

"We shall have another look at it later if you will. I will have a quick shower first." Spock saw Petakov make it’s way towards Sama’el’s bed, no doubt he would find a cozy place under it. He pushed himself up to a stance, knowing how the quarters were set up, he made his way to the bathroom. "I did not bring any clean clothes, regrettably. Petakov was on my mind." Spock admitted, but he would take a shower regardless. He started taking off his boots and pants, folding the garment neatly the way he always did.

@illnotbeagentleman

The deiamos blinked, trying not to stare as Spock set about undressing in front of him. To cover the blush that he knew was rising to his cheeks, his entire body changed color back to it’s natural red tone, his eyes becoming black once more.

"It’s no problem. I can wash your clothes with mine after your shower, and in the meantime…" He turned to move around the box of biomechs, opening his walk in closet and stepping inside. Within a few moments he emerged with a pair of shorts, tags still on, an unopened package of boxers, and a black tank top like the one he was wearing. The tank top had been worn just enough that it was as soft as silk on the inside from where it rubbed against the deiamos’s slightly rough skin. "If you’d like, you could borrow these. I haven’t had time to make adjustments for my tail yet, and we’re about the same size…so they should fit."

A rumbling sound, boardering on a laugh came from Merikh. “How cute. He’s letting you borrow his clothes. Lucky he bought new shorts recently, or you’d end up with a hole in the back until the laundry was done.” The beast chuckled softly, before bending slowly over the edge of the bed, wincing a little in pain before sniffing at Petakov. “What exactly are you, little sprite?” As he spoke, Merikh’s tail came around, the two pincer like spikes carefully sliding under Petakov to lift him a little so he could get a better look, one of his massive talloned paws moving to brace his weight off the floor.

Sama’el turned to watch his bond mate, his tail flicking sharply when Merikh winced. “Be gentle…remember, you’re not tiny and harmless anymore…and I’m sure tribbles are less hardy than I am.”

"I won’t hurt him…he’s soft…"


(Closed) - I’llnotbeagentleman

spockofbothworlds:

Spock fixed his hair and ran a hand through Petakov’s soft fur. “Hm, I do not understand why it prefers to be under my bed, but nine out of ten times that is the place where I find him after I have had long shifts. If I am here, he will stay with me mostly.” Spock explained, following Sama’el out again as they had decided to do earlier. Petakov cooed almost happily in Spock’s arms. He listened with genuine interest to the theory the Lieutenant-commander suggested to him.

"The thought had not occurred to me, to be honest. I have done scientific research on his blood and DNA, and the only thing I’ve found to be different, is a few chromosomes that seem to be out of place. It’s sex does not look any different to the eye if compared with another tribble, but the only thing of significance would be the colour of his fur. Thusfar I have not met anyone who has encountered a similarly coloured specimen." He followed Sama’el inside as soon as he was invited, his gaze immediately settling on the creature on his bed.

Spock walked around, and Petakov seemed to have stopped cooing for a moment. “Hello Merikh, it has been a while, thank you for allowing me to see you.” He greeted the shape-shifting bond mate politely as he always did. The commander took his time to get a good look at the magnificent creature, fairly sure this could be something he would witness only once in his lifetime. “Fascinating.” He murmured, leaning over to get a closer look at the loose pieces of skin and the newly shining one beneath. Sama’el stroked him lovingly and pointed him to the bio mechanical rats.

He stepped over and hunched down to take a closer look. At first sight they were simply behaving like the rats he knew from the science labs, only they looked like they were more machine than rat. One stood out because it did not move so fast, one hind paw dragging behind him even though he did no effort to try and go any slower. “It seems as if Gimpy’s mind is unaware of the malfunctioning hind paw if you ask me, ofcourse this is a theory based upon a mere first glance observation.” Spock commented. He placed Petakov on the ground, where it started moving around a little, triggered by the new scents in Sama’el’s quarters. “If that is the case, could it be a simple programming error?” He asked, raising an eyebrow up at the deiamos. It was more likely that Sama’el knew better than he did.

illnotbeagentleman

Stepping over Petakov carefully, Sama made his way from his place at Merikh’s side to stand over the box, he bent a bit, lowering a hand in slowly, the rats gathering around and sniffing at him, until he could gently scoop Gimpy up. “It’s certainly a possibility, although I’ve often seen injured creatures on Earth perservere over their injury by paying it no mind. A three legged dog will run just as fast as a four legged dog, if it’s able. They tend to not let disabilities hinder them.”

He gave a little shrug. “It’s all worth taking another look at, I suppose…but…did you want to take your shower first?”


Our Muses are cuddled under a blanket watching a movie, when all of a sudden my Muse is feeling frisky and decides to slide their hand down your Muse’s pants. Send me your Muse’s reaction.

essence-theft:

image


Anonymous asked: "(From illnotbeagentleman: (sorry I haven't talked in so long)) "My Mind to your Mind..." Sama began, then gave a tiny little teasing snort. "My bowl of soup to your bowl of soup...I'm seriously too full to finish eating." His spade tipped tail gave a little flick as he stepped up behind his commander, one hand just lightly touching the Vulcan's shoulder as he bent over him and poured the contents of his bowl into Spock's bowl."

spockofbothworlds:

spockofbothworlds:

Spock straightened his back in his chair, blinking twice when the familiar phrase was uttered in his near vicinity. The snort gave Sama’el away even before the touch on his shoulder did.

He was not nearly halfway eating his soup when the Lieutenant-Commander refilled his bowl. “That is not how the saying goes, Mr. Canicus.” His dark brown eyes met the soft green ones of the Deiamos’ “I suppose you found me looking starving?”

"I assume Merikh has remembered me?" Spock was pleasantly surprised to hear he was welcomed already, as he had remembered it was important for the bond mate to accept friends and guests of their counterpart. "I was planning on taking a shower once in my quarters, more out of habit -as Vulcans barely sweat- but I must admit it was time to do so." Spock let the idea sink in of saving time by showering in Sama’el’s quarters after simply picking up his tribble, it seemed a logical decision to decide upon.

"Let us visit my quarters as you said, and I shall pick up Petakov and join you immediately." He had made up his mind and started to make his way out of the mess hall. "It has been years since I have experienced a water shower, so please do not mind me accepting your generous offer." Spock glanced at Sama’el giving him one of those rare half-smiles he only showed when feeling exceptionally good. And he was, for once he would do something he had not priorly planned, and it felt kind of liberating. His gaze settled on the deiamos’ flicking tail for a moment, wondering if it was as sensitive in comparison to his ears, but Surak forbid he asked in public.

Once arriving at his quarters, Spock quickly sought for the tribble. It was not at all like the Sehlat he used to have as a child, responding to it’s name or able to do tricks on command, but he enjoyed Petakov for it’s vibe, and the alluring soft fur. It took a while before he heard the faint cooing sound of a content tribble. “It seems Petakov is at it’s favourite spot again, excuse me, Sama’el.” The Vulcan excused himself as he walked up to his bed and sunk through his knees to get on all fours, lower his head and search under his bed. “There you are.” He noted dryly, crawling a bit closer, his head and arm disappearing under the bed quite ungracefully for a moment until he retreived a curious reddish furred tribble.

Sama’el kept pace with Spock easily, his gait significantly more similar to the Vulcan hybrid’s than it was to the humans, given that he didn’t slouch any more than Spock did. He waited patiently by the door as Spock fished around for Petakov under the bed, and couldn’t stop the little smirk on his mouth as Spock slipped under the bed, unintentionally giving him a rather welcome view of his arse. Oh those regulation slacks did leave nothing to the imagination like this.

By the time Spock stood back up, the smirk on Sama’el’s face had dissipated. “Hmm, rather cute creatures aren’t they? I wonder…what if this one is actually just one sex, as opposed to being hermaphroditic, like the rest of the species? That might be why it can’t reproduce.” He pondered aloud, before shrugging. “Just a thought. Since humans can be born as hermaphrodites when they’re normally either one sex or the other…why can’t a hermaphroditic asexually reproducing species be born the opposite way?”

He waited for Spock to have appeared to gather his things, then gave a nod toward the hall. “Shall we?” He asked politely, before leading the way to his own quarters once they were ready.

It didn’t take all that long to get there, given that his quarters wasn’t too far. He opened the door and wandered in, paying no mind to the fact that his bed was barely visible under the bulk of what could only be assumed to be Merikh. The former kitten now looked more like some hell spawn of a bear, a canine, a feline, and a lizard. Covered in scale-like black flesh, with sharp looking spines around his muzzle and down his back, The beast lay atop the bed, occasionally rubbing his head against the foot board, skin peeling up here and there, revealing a dark blue colored pelt underneath. Silver spikes stood on his shoulders and haunches, and four elongated. curling horns crowned his head. His spiked tail curled around his body, tipped with two spikes on the end, almost making a pincer shape, despite being immobile.

Sama paused just long enough to gently run a hand down the beast’s back, before turning his attention to a cardboard box, covered by a large blanket in the corner. “The bio-mechs are in here.”


Anonymous asked: "(From illnotbeagentleman: (sorry I haven't talked in so long)) "My Mind to your Mind..." Sama began, then gave a tiny little teasing snort. "My bowl of soup to your bowl of soup...I'm seriously too full to finish eating." His spade tipped tail gave a little flick as he stepped up behind his commander, one hand just lightly touching the Vulcan's shoulder as he bent over him and poured the contents of his bowl into Spock's bowl."

spockofbothworlds:

spockofbothworlds:

Spock straightened his back in his chair, blinking twice when the familiar phrase was uttered in his near vicinity. The snort gave Sama’el away even before the touch on his shoulder did.

He was not nearly halfway eating his soup when the Lieutenant-Commander refilled his bowl. “That is not how the saying goes, Mr. Canicus.” His dark brown eyes met the soft green ones of the Deiamos’ “I suppose you found me looking starving?”

Spock nodded, he would have offered Sama’el to come over and meet the little furball had he not offered he bring him along so they could meet eachother’s pets at the same time. “That sounds like a good idea. I would like to take a look at Gimpy’s leg, hopefully I can help out but I am not an expert mind you. Perhaps taking him to doctor McCoy could be of more help than my best guess.” He said humbly.

The prospect of homemade marshmallows sounded good as well, actually any prospect of doing something that did not have to do with working for now was alluring. Spock had not taken advantage of his past couple of Shore Leave opportunities, leaving him either at the Academy to fill in lectures or at another starship to fill in for someone else. The Vulcan was often too busy for his own good and he did not really notice unless he was being pulled out of that pattern by someone else. That someone right now was the deiamos. They had a lot to catch up on, and Spock almost visibly veered up at the mentioning of Merikh.

“That is true, I believe I mentioned this last time when he resembled a feline. I can imagine the shedding of the skin is a special happening. Consider me curious.” The Vulcan Commander rose from his seat, lightly tugging down his blue shirt. “Your quarters will be most sufficient. At what time will you be ready to receive me?” Spock inquired, slowly folding his hands behind his back again as his gaze settled upon Sama’el’s tail as it stretched along with him. “In any case you could simply send me a PADD message, as I have mentioned, I am completely free from duty for the day.”

illnotbeagentleman

Sama’el chuckled softly. “Whenever you’re ready, I can receive you. I have nothing else to do today either, so I could literally walk you to your quarters to get Petakov, and then walk you to mine. I used my bond to tell Merikh you’ll be stopping by, and he’s alright with it whenever you happen to show up.” He gave a tiny smile. “So it’s up to you. I don’t know if you wanted to change out of your uniform or take a shower, since you just got off shift, I’m assuming, but you’ve got time if you need it.” He casually avoided bringing up how intimate shedding was for both him and Merikh, with them linked and able to share thoughts and feelings, the shed was an unnerving, fragile time for both of them. But he wanted to spend time with Spock, even during this rather intimate time, and Merikh had agreed with him that it would be ok.

After a tiny pause, he shrugged. “And since I have a water shower instead of a sonic shower, if you wanted, you could bring a change of clothes and use my shower. Starfleet only let me actually keep a water shower since the sonic ones hurt my tail. That’s why we were detained so long at the last weigh station, I needed a bit of help from the engineering crew making sure it was all hooked up properly.” At the mention of itself, his tail gave a little wavering sway, the tip curling and flicking a bit, folding the spade in half as it moved.

He folded his hands in front of himself, feeling a bit awkward, and hoping the casual offer of letting Spock use his shower wouldn’t be seen as too forward. It had been quite a long time since he last attempted to flirt with anyone, and then it had been a fellow deiamos, so he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping a boundary here.


Anonymous asked: "(From illnotbeagentleman: (sorry I haven't talked in so long)) "My Mind to your Mind..." Sama began, then gave a tiny little teasing snort. "My bowl of soup to your bowl of soup...I'm seriously too full to finish eating." His spade tipped tail gave a little flick as he stepped up behind his commander, one hand just lightly touching the Vulcan's shoulder as he bent over him and poured the contents of his bowl into Spock's bowl."

spockofbothworlds:

spockofbothworlds:

Spock straightened his back in his chair, blinking twice when the familiar phrase was uttered in his near vicinity. The snort gave Sama’el away even before the touch on his shoulder did.

He was not nearly halfway eating his soup when the Lieutenant-Commander refilled his bowl. “That is not how the saying goes, Mr. Canicus.” His dark brown eyes met the soft green ones of the Deiamos’ “I suppose you found me looking starving?”

Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle were falling together for Spock. “You do not know how long I have been kept in the dark about that particular joke. I owe you one by clarifying that to me. Captain Kirk and McCoy would refuse to do so by high and low. Also, it does explain why the replicator would malfunction if I wished for it to make me marshmelons.” The Vulcan nearly eyed as if he were pouting. He did enjoy the little white puffy things he thought were marshmelons, but he had not ever gotten the chance to taste them again ever since the replicators refused them en masse. “In the end it was all a mistake on my behalf..”

He listened with genuine interest to the project currently in Sama’el’s hands, and to how he got attached to the malfunctioning biomechanical rat. “Gimpy? If he is of no danger to the Enterprise I am convinced you are allowed to keep him, if anything I am against euthanasia, even if he is partly mechanical. Also, I would be interested in seeing him. I think it would be fascinating if we were to find out what is keeping him from using the leg. What if one in the so-many you create has such an error? Think about it, would the fault lie within the biologic or the mechanic components, or a failure within a connection between both?” Spock mused, speaking his thoughts out loud. “Everything seems to be in order, yet it isn’t. I find enjoyment in solving such conundrums.”

"I haven’t updated you either, but now you mention you are keeping Gimpy as a pet of sorts, you might want to enjoy hearing I have a pet as well, a tribble.” He paused to catch Sama’el’s reaction to that news, as it was widely known that tribbles equaled trouble more than anything. But he continued, eager to explain. “Like your rat, my tribble seems to have a genetic error that keeps it from duplicating, it can -however- grow quite fat if fed too much. The only visible feature that divides him from other tribbles is it’s reddish fur. I called it Petakov, usually it resides in my quarters, occasionally I bring him to the rec room on request.” Petakov was a popular and endearing little creature, most crew members were surprised to see Spock, the stoic Vulcan commander, able to find affection for a pet, many had asked him if it wasn’t a bother, and if they could take him over if it did. After all, wasn’t keeping a pet illogical to a Vulcan? In fact, it wasn’t. Spock still thought back of his younger years spent with the Sehlat he called his best friend. Pets sometimes seemed to have the ability to understand better than humans, or Vulcans for that matter.

"I have no qualms with performing a mind-meld with you, Sama’el. In fact, I would think it is an highly interesting experience for the both of us. I wish to fathom that pulse you have mentioned before." The Vulcan slowly nodded, he made eye contact with the deiamos, but he found he trusted him enough to proceed. "It is indeed highly intimate, and most likely it will strenghten the bond we share, I will be able to see into your mind, and you in mine if I let you." Spock explained briefly. There was a lot more to a Vulcan mind-meld but he would not so openly elaborate on the subject in the mess hall. "Perhaps we should find a more private location to continue our conversation, Sama’el." He suggested, already standing up from the table, stretching his back a bit from the long sit.

illnotbeagentleman

"A tribble? How unique. I’ve seen them a few times, but I can’t say I’m overly familiar with them personally as a species. Perhaps you could bring Petakov and we could catch up in my quarters? I could let you get a look at Gimpy’s leg…maybe I’m overlooking something and perhaps you could figure out what’s troubling him.” He paused, then gave a little smile. “I could even make you some homemade marshmallows. I’m willing to bet they taste better than replicated ones.” The diamos’s disdain for the replicators was as evident as ever as he glance to the one in the mess hall and wrinkeled his nose.

"Besides…I recall you wanted to see Merikh in his true form, and he’s been forced into it recently because he’s shedding his skin. He wouldn’t mind you coming to take a look at him, but he’s not about to stay in that form any longer than he must. He finds it too bulky now. He sheds once every 20 years, like a snake. If you wanted to you could even pet him gently and see if any of the looser skin will flake off. Just don’t pick at it because often there’s still patches of living skin around the shedding dead skin."

He stood himself, sneaking a glance at Spock’s body as he stretched. Sama’el’s only attempt at stretching was to let his tail stretch out, before returning to a casual downward slope, the tip curved upward. “Unless you had somewhere else in mind, of course. I know Petakov won’t bother Merikh, and nothing seems to bother the bio-mechs and Gimpy.”


So, I dug out my old Spore games and made Merikh’s species.

What’s that? They don’t look like cats?

Duh. He CHOOSES to look like a cat…that doesn’t mean he looks like one naturally.

Technically they’re supposed to be a bit more feline looking and less dragon-y, but…this is about as good as I can do with spore, because they need all the ridges and spikes and the teeth and wide jaw and all the little chin spikes and Spore won’t let you put all that on their cat/bear/wolf jaw.

But, essentially, they look like this, and they’re pretty big. Think, kinda how Toothless and Hiccup from the How To Train Your Dragon movies stack up size wise, but with Sama’el who’s 6’2” tall in Hiccup’s place, and these things in place of Toothless.

posted 4 weeks ago with 1 note

Anonymous asked: "(From illnotbeagentleman: (sorry I haven't talked in so long)) "My Mind to your Mind..." Sama began, then gave a tiny little teasing snort. "My bowl of soup to your bowl of soup...I'm seriously too full to finish eating." His spade tipped tail gave a little flick as he stepped up behind his commander, one hand just lightly touching the Vulcan's shoulder as he bent over him and poured the contents of his bowl into Spock's bowl."

@spockofbothworlds:

spockofbothworlds:

Spock straightened his back in his chair, blinking twice when the familiar phrase was uttered in his near vicinity. The snort gave Sama’el away even before the touch on his shoulder did.

He was not nearly halfway eating his soup when the Lieutenant-Commander refilled his bowl. “That is not how the saying goes, Mr. Canicus.” His dark brown eyes met the soft green ones of the Deiamos’ “I suppose you found me looking starving?”

"Hmm, you have a point there. Time is nearly irrelevant to you, forgive me." The Vulcan Commander had let more things slip his mind lately, a lack of sleep was taking it’s toll. He contiued the conversation politely. "I do get the jokes sometimes, it pleases me to find out by myself and feel adequate, but there are some I still mull over in my head." Spock admitted in honesty as he calmly kept eating his soup, his eyes on the deiamos.

"I don’t suppose you know what marshmelons are?" It was worth a try. "The Captain refuses to tell me what is so funny about them, but something is making him and doctor McCoy throw an incontrollable laughing fit whenever I mention them. I happen to enjoy eating marshmelons." Spock stated dryly, his eyes questioning, wondering if Sama’el could tell him what the fun was about.

image

Spock decided he was done with his lunch and he stacked his bowl and an empty saucer onto a tray, fully turning his attention to the Lieutenant-Commander. “Hm I see.” He gave Sama’el a once-over, the tank top not misstanding him, and as no one would reprimand him for not constantly wearing his assigned Starfleet issued colours, Spock wouldn’t be the one to make him wear more. “Mr. Scott is known to be helpful and resourceful, it gladdens me to hear he wishes to assist you with needed supplies, however if you may run short, you’re welcome to message me as well. What main project are you currently working on?” He offered, more and more intrigued by having a casual conversation for once. He felt comfortable enough.

"I must admit in all honesty I think this is a mutual sentiment. Although I would not be able to sense the galactic pulse of the universe, I too find your presence highly calming and comfortable. It is almost regrettable we have not conversed as much the past months." The Vulcan admitted with a slight dip of his head, an apologetic little tug on his lips. "I am free for the rest of the day though."

@illnotbeagentleman

"The Marshmelons thing is probably a communication thing. See, the white, puffy, sugary things are marshmallows or mellows depending on personal preference on pronunciation, and the big, green, striped fruits with red insides and rinds you toss away after eating the red parts are watermelons. If I remember correctly, Vulcan has only one word for various bodies of water, and uses descriptors to differentiate, so it’s probably a simple translation error that occurred somewhere when you were originally learning English. I believe they perceive correcting you as more disrespectful than trying to ignore it, but they find it humorous and likely endearing and thus, they laugh.” He gave a little shrug. “I doubt they mean any offense.”

"At late, I’ve been working on bio-mechanical rats and mice. Small enough to fit into the inner workings of the ship without damaging her or themselves, outfitted with lungs and a sensor that will send a distress signal to the ship and to the bridge if they encounter a poisonous gas leak of some sort, to help contain such leaks and keep crew and passengers safe. They would also be controllable through simple functions able to be assigned by high ranking officers using a pass code to allow them to repair minor or even major damage that is too dangerous either due to lack of space or some other inconvenience to send in personnel. I’ve yet to outfit them with any tools or any of these little sensors or programs yet, so at the moment, I just have some three hundred rats and mice made mostly out of metal living in a large cardboard box in my private quarters. I want to be sure they won’t encounter physical problems and malfunctions in the ship where I can’t reach them, so I’m testing their basic motor functions and life support systems for bugs."

The deiamos paused, tail giving a little flick. “They’ve all been doing quite well, except for one runty one who can’t seem to work his hind leg. There’s nothing wrong with the leg, mechanically speaking, it’s hooked into his nervous system properly, but he just can’t seem to figure out how to work it, so he drags it around. I’ve named him Gimpy, and I’m debating just removing the useless leg and keeping him as three legged. If the rest continue to do well, I’ll just assign him to a small space within reach somewhere, so if he needs aid it can be provided. I’d rather not have to shut him down…he’s very…affectionate for a mechanical creature.” He sighed. “I’ve grown a little attached.”

"If you’d like, since neither of us have proper work…we could spend the remainder of the day catching up on what we’ve missed and otherwise spending time together?" He ventured carefully. "Perhaps…I’m unsure if it would work…but perhaps, the latent touch-telepathy inherent in Vulcans would permit you to feel the Pulse through linking with me, if you’re interested in trying it. If I recall correctly it’s supposed to be rather intimate, and I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, but I don’t believe the deiamos have any record of any other Vulcan, nor any other telepathic species, trying…it’s interesting to ponder if it’s possible."


Anonymous asked: "(From illnotbeagentleman: (sorry I haven't talked in so long)) "My Mind to your Mind..." Sama began, then gave a tiny little teasing snort. "My bowl of soup to your bowl of soup...I'm seriously too full to finish eating." His spade tipped tail gave a little flick as he stepped up behind his commander, one hand just lightly touching the Vulcan's shoulder as he bent over him and poured the contents of his bowl into Spock's bowl."

spockofbothworlds:

spockofbothworlds:

Spock straightened his back in his chair, blinking twice when the familiar phrase was uttered in his near vicinity. The snort gave Sama’el away even before the touch on his shoulder did.

He was not nearly halfway eating his soup when the Lieutenant-Commander refilled his bowl. “That is not how the saying goes, Mr. Canicus.” His dark brown eyes met the soft green ones of the Deiamos’ “I suppose you found me looking starving?”


Spock took another bite, wondering if he’d be able to finish his bowl now it had been refilled. He had not been especially hungry ever since he entered. “Admittedly, it was well found and original I must say.” The Vulcan responded with a small smile.

image

"Not many endeavour to joke with me as it’s purpose usually precedes my capability to recognize one in time, perhaps that is the joke in itself to the Captain." Deep brown eyes found Sama’el’s bright green ones, Spock eyed him curiously. "Have you finished shift or was there another reason why you decided to stop by Lieutenant-Commander?"

illnotbeagentleman

"I happen to have nothing but a wealth of many thousands of years on my hands, so it matters not to me if it takes you a moment or so longer than some to get the joke. You do end up getting it, and seeing as you smile sometimes, I figured you appreciate the good-natured humor.” He tugged a bit on the black tank top he was wearing.

"It might not look it, but tank tops and regulation slacks make up the entirety of my casual dress. I was off shift today, which is why I had time to raid the engineering scrap for parts for my latest project. One would think when they asked a bio-mechanist onto the ship they would supply me with more than just biological specimens to work with. But, thankfully, Engineering doesn’t mind me taking their unneeded broken parts. I can fix it up well enough for my research and projects, and I assume it saves Starfleet from having to break it all down and reforge it."

"Besides…" He scratched his neck a little awkwardly. "I enjoy spending time in your company, Commander. If you don’t mind me saying, you have a presence that’s quite calming, and resonates beautifully with the Pulse of the galaxy that runs through the ship."


Send “Is that blood?!” for my character’s reaction.