=/\= USS Charon, Eris Deck =/\=
A waitress came to retrieve Brent's empty plate and the young Vulcan briefly considered an excursion to the lounge upstairs, but truth be told she had been started at enough for one evening. Somehow being ignored on account of being a boring Vulcan had unexpected merits one never appreciated until it stopped.
"Unless you have other plans … could you be persuaded to escort me to my quarters?"
There was a quiet promise in the way her delicately slanted brow climbed, and just a tad of mischief.
"Maybe. I was considering it for my sister graduation. But based on the letter that I got from her she won't even be walking. So it's doubtful I'll go back anytime soon," he said with a slight frown. He didn't like that his sister would be pushed away from walking on graduation simply because she couldn't get along with their father. Not that Brent had gotten along very well with his father but his youngest sister was always more of the rebel as she grew older. Only their mother was really able to calm her down.
However Sakarra's proposition brought him out of his revelry and made him smile. He stood up and offered the Vulcan a hand up before offering her his arm. "I would be honored to escort you back to your quarters my dear."
There was a world of feeling behind the words and the young woman found her curiosity sparked – but there would be time still to hear about his family and perhaps even meet this strong-willed sister one day. Or the mother who by Vulcan standard would be a matriarch in her own right.
Sakarra briefly wondered about the other side of the equation – how someone with Brent's cultural background would react to the firm structures of her homeworld's society, or Deities have Mercy, the exuberant yet no less unshakeable way of the Betazoids.
T'Leia was bound to accept Brent for precisely who and what he was and would take up any misgivings with she who was her granddaughter, as was right and proper. As for grandmother Lhorexa … she would adore Brent for the simple reason he had managed to get past her little one's defenses. The issue was rather whether Sakarra wanted to inflict the grand, somewhat overbearing lady on her Companion who might take it amiss to be thought of as a 'poor dear who doesn't know any better'.
Like the other complications, these were still offset my time and distance, and the young Vulcan decided it was illogical to dwell on them.
It took her only a moment to recognize the gesture and accept the offered arm with a graceful tip of the head. And if the calmly observing Vulcans in the vicinity had not already deduced that the marine was in his own way extending the perfect courtesy one such as she expected, they certainly knew now. Inwardly, Sakarra chuckled.
'I believe if you had gone so far as to execute a bow, the brow of the delegate to your right might have climbed another full centimeter.'
As they swept out of the mess hall, another silent observer placed his napkin next to an empty plate, a deeply thoughtful look on his face. Well, well. Seemed as if they had decided to catch the tiger by the tail. Now he had to find a way to make the kitty bite them.
=/\= Deck Three =/\=
It was a relief to be back in her warm quarters and Sakarra promptly dropped the shawl onto her pristine desk before she turned around to face her Companion. "Tell me, Brent Warren. How does a 'date' traditionally proceed at this point?"
He laughed at the idea of the Vulcan to their right raising his eyebrow even higher. "I'll remember that for next time, an even better response," he teased her as they walked down the corridor.
The journey was short and of course uneventful. He had smiled the entire time there and back. Brent had briefly wondered just what he should do next regarding his parents and Sakarra. He had considered telling them the truth. Just how much he cared for her... But that would mean a whole host of problems for himself and even more distance between him and his mother and father. While he had never gotten along with his parents, putting more distance between them wasn't something he wanted to do.
Brent was brought out of his thoughts by Sakarra's words. "We'll we have already eaten dinner...." he said with a smile creeping over his face. "Sometimes a date would just end with that... Sometimes though, a date can go much much farther than that," he said as he slipped one of his arms around her waist.
There was no mistaking either his tone of voice nor the expression in deep blue eyes, and her reaction was as immediate as always. The skin under the dress where his arm pulled her close seemed to burn and the blood in her veins was singing with newly sparked flames. It never ceased to astonish her, the dazzling brightness, the sudden rush, the all permeating feeling of right-ness.
"Precisely how much farther would you deem appropriate under the circumstances?"
Sakarra's tone was still playful, though already laced with desire and dark currents stirred in the depth of jet-black eyes. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around her Companion's neck and lifted her face to him, quirking an inquisitive brow.
Oh, she had seen his quick glance towards her desk and laughed inwardly at the remembered … threat. And in time, she might let him have his revenge. For now however, her plans involved a somewhat different approach.
Brent knew that right now, words were not appropriate. He kissed Sakarra then and there, drawing her close to him as his hands held her firmly against him. He could feel her body begin to heat up and the bond that they had so strengthened recently come to life. He slowly led his lover back towards her bed... Or was it their bed? No it was still technically her bed, although the lines between them in such a matter were beginning to blur, even Brent could see that clearly. He let her legs hit the bed before he broke the kiss. "I must confess my love that I have always considered myself to be a passionate man who believes that all such circumstances should lead to... This far." He said with a lazy smile on his face as he let his lips brush over hers. "So this may not be the most accurate representation of normal dating."
"Duly noted." The young Vulcan just so managed the words after catching her breath and though they had been meant to sound just a tad dry, the good humor echoing in them rather ruined that effect. And she could not help herself. Just like not too long ago, the dire disappointment on a certain Trill's face after Brent had decided to return the clothes of a mightily irate Rihanha flashed through their link again, and the bitter complaints of several of the crew who would have loved to take their chances after having been beaten to the proverbial punch by the marine the night before.
The thought dispersed under another kiss, fueled not only by Sakarra's gentle teasing of her Companion but the renewed brief flare of jealousy and she realized she had a few precious seconds before yet another dress would end up ruined on the floor. Truly, there was an inherent danger where this man and delicate, expensive garments were concerned.
With monumental effort, she managed to break the kiss and nudge him away from the bed just a small step rather than end up flat on her back – and he had tensed for just that contingency.
"Not quite yet, ashal-veh."
All teasing had left her low, melodious voice and it had almost returned to being deep and even, the epitome of Vulcan serenity. Almost.
Looking over her shoulder, Sakarra shifted in the marine's arms and waited for him to follow her gaze. Ivory colored silks, neat and shimmering in the dim copper toned lights; and coiled in the center of the bed a length of silken rope. Stark black against the bright covers and woven tightly enough to withstand a full grown Vulcan's strength.
She could have made another dry reference, or a seductive comment. She did neither. But he remembered, that much the sudden leap of his pulse told her and a quiet smile appeared on the young Vulcan's lips when she disentangled herself from Brent's arms.
=/\= End (at least of public viewing ...) =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
