=/\= Deck 10, Quarters 1002 =/\=
Brent stirred. It was quite in his room, even though he had a splitting headache. Again. Brent clenched up a little bit, before stretching out and relaxing under his sheets and covers. They were nice covers. He had requisitioned them after his last stay at home before the Charon. Having a nice bed made having a hangover all that much easier to deal with.
Brent had not opened his eyes yet, instead sinking below his sheets more until he turned towards the middle of the bed and stretched his arm out a bit. Unfortunately his hand bumped into something. That caused him to open his eyes because Brent's memory was still a little bit hazy from the previous night. It was warm, and soft, and just as Brent wiped the haze from his eyes to see who it was that was next to him the memories came flooding back to him.
The Marines had been celebrating the Terran New Year the previous night. It had been a loudy and bouistrous night. Drinking, carousing, drinkin when there was time, and even a little bit more carousing at the end of the night. Apparently their noise had attracted the attention of a few of the Klingons on board... One of them set about trying to apparently make himself out to be the toughest of the group. He beat most of the Marines in arm wrestling, which wasn't really a suprise before he started to boast about it. It was then that the loudest Klingon noticed that he had not wrestled Brent into submission. Detecting that he was an officer, Brent tried to reason with the Klingon but... Well Klingon's weren't know for their reason now where they?
It hadn't lasted long. Brent had several drinks of beer and a few shots of whiskey before this altercation took place... The Klingon probably felt that was icing on the cake. For him though it simply meant that Brent was careless. The arm wrestling match lasted less than a second, and ended with a resounding CRACK. Brent let his finger flatten out just before he slammed the Klingon's hand down against the metal table. The Klingon howled in pain, which seemed to have caught the attention of the other patrons of the bar. Brent immediately realized what had happened as soon as it occured and winced slightly.
The other Klingon's bursted into a roarous laughter at the events, taking their battered comerade away to be treated by sickbay, and probably never to live down the time he was so badly beaten by a human. The Marines offered a toast to their Lieutenant who had restored their honor, which Brent was kind enough to return. He returned to his drink before she had sat down at his table.
The first thing she had asked was if he was a robot. Apparently she had heard of a andriod beating a Klingon at such things many years earlier and was wondering if Brent was the same way. Brent laughed and showed her his hand, which had recieved a cut from one of the spikes on the Klingon warrior's glove, and he was bleeding. She was goregous, even now when all of the alcohol had left his system. He didn't think that too many Klingon's fell into that category, but this one did. She told him that the loud and rude Klingon had always been writing her love poetry and trying to sing to her when he could. She then asked if next time Brent could find a way to damage his vocal chords for a few days as well as his writing hand. She said she could use the peace and quiet.
What happened after that was a little hazy, Brent remembered laughing, a lot more drinking and eventually inviting the Klingon woman back to his room. He really needed to start being more descriminate with that...
He winced placing a hand on his shoulder blade before pulling back his hand and finding dried blood. Oh good, she had bit him. Probably more than once. Fucking great now he was going to have to explain to the doctors just how he got it. He looked back over to the sleeping whirlwind and blinked, startled as she was now staring back at him. She grinned at him before finally speaking again.
"Twice more and then I'll go," she said to him. Apparently she had been able to assertain just what Brent was thinking. Just how to get her out.
"Once. Once more and I'll undo the cuffs for it," Brent replied. "I have duty in two hours."
"Once... And I will try to make you late.."
OOC: Log takes place New Year's Day with a flashback to Eve.
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Brevet First Lieutenant
Marine Commander
USS-Charon
