Log Date: 7/29-7/31/97 Log Cast: Methos, Shenner, Kish, Ariana, Paul_Nighman Log Intro: Still on Caspar while Paul works with his friend Marcus Crowley to try to figure out what happened to his missing vessel, Shenner has settled down to kill time as best she can -- which for her has come to mean exploring whatever world she happens to be parked on, finding places to busk, and finding out what songs people on the streets like to hear. It's given her some time to sort out her thoughts, too, especially after briefly encountering her old acquaintance from Etti IV, the Horansi Kuxli... who hadn't known that Shenner was a girl. Kuxli's reaction to this discovery has reminded Shenner anew of the ways her life has changed as of late, and in particular reminded her of the _other_ person on Etti IV who'd thought she was a boy, the Corellian Shikh. Trying to sort out the drastic changes between then and now has made Shen more or less happy to keep a low profile, and spend her time playing music or in study. But she's missed Paul's companionship during the day, despite all her assurances that he has a lot to deal with at the moment.... (OOC Note: While the ship Paul and Shenner are using is actually the object for Paul's ship the _Quasar Bolt_, IC, it should be assumed to be the _Hawk's Wing_, the ship loaned to Paul by his friend Jace Raven.) ---------- Landing Pad - Union Starport Slightly sunken down into the rocky ground, the paved flightline that is the landing pad is crammed with ships of a variety of types. Eight towering, oddly-shaped structures encircle the tarmac, serving as light towers and static dissipaters, but their markings and carvings in their metallic skin hint at a different original purpose. The dense forest crowds in on the rim of the clearing, and some foliage creeps over the stoney edge and hangs down like drapes. A row of hangers lie agape under the windows of the Starport Complex, and techs on hoversleds constantly push ships in and out of them. OOC Note: Type RECALL SHUTTLE to call the insystem shuttle to this location. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => SHUTTLE: CSS Olumekar => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Swiftwind => STARFIGHTER: Sienar Lambda Class Shuttle -- CFS Armistice => STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt => starport computer => CAPITAL: Corellian Action VI -- Wild Karrde => Transport Panel => Trade Panel: Caspar => NOTIFICATION => Immigration Notice -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- est leads to Concourse - Union Starport. Methos steps down the ramp of a large freighter. Methos has arrived. Methos walks off the WIld Karrde and heads for the in-system shuttle at a hurried pace. A slim redheaded youngster over by the _Hawk's Wing_, ambling about at a leg-stretching sort of stroll, notes the comings and goings. The girl lifts a dark eyebrow at the figure bustling, but keeps to herself. Methos has left. Methos walks up the ramp of the Olumekar. The Olumekar powers up it's engines and leaves the landing area. Kish has connected. Kish looks at you for a moment. The Olumekar powers up it's engines and leaves the landing area. The Olumekar comes in for a landing and powers down it's engines. A slim redheaded young female, perhaps stretching her legs, ambles slowly in the vicinity of the _Hawk's Wing_. Kish heads into one of the openings towards the concourse of the starport. Kish has left. CAPITAL: Corellian Action VI -- Wild Karrde engages its ion engines and takes off. Ariana heads in from the flightline. Ariana has arrived. Paul_Nighman heads in from the flightline. Paul_Nighman has arrived. Ariana stares, just stares, at the two empty places where capital ships were recently berthed and shakes, rather violently, fists clenched until the comlin in one hand nearly cracks open. "They left. They just...left." Bursting into the crowded spaceport at a dead run, Paul's eyes scan the room for the vibrant red, catching it easily with his gaze. "Ariana!" he yells at the retreating woman's form, and he re-doubles his efforts, skirting around ships and travelers with speed and dexterity. Ambling around the side of the _Hawk's Wing_, Shenner blinks as Paul's voice carries to her from a distance. Perplexed, the young musician circles the craft, looking for the Corellian. Ariana Of medium height and reed-thin, Ariana initially gives the impression of being almost insubstantial until one realizes that what flesh is on her frame is sinewy and toned, like a dancer or athlete. Her pale blonde hair, streaked gold by sun, is growing into a softer but still-abbreviated coiffure, framing a pert, youthfully appealing face. Though she smiles from time to time, her flinty gaze is often dark and serious; this young lady means business. Ariana is presently dressed in a flowing red split-front tunic atop black leggings and belted by an ebony satin sash about her trim waist. Polished black knee-high boots adorn her small feet, and a necklace of small gold and copper plates encircles her neck. Her cheeks are nicely bronzed by the sun, her hair streaked similarly streaked gold. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Field Armor Ariana looks at you for a moment. Paul_Nighman Paul Nighman is a tall and lanky Corellian, 6'3", with a lean, and muscular build. His face sports rugged features and a cleft in his chin. He is generally on the unshaven side - a sort of perpetual five o'clock shadow look - unless he has made a distinct effort to clean himself up. His hair is light brown with gold highlights, and there is one unruly swatch that has the tendency to fall over his brow. His eyes are expressive and hazel in color, with a green sunburst around the pupils. His skin has a naturally tanned look to it and in general he is robust and attractive. He has long muscular arms with scars and nicks crisscrossing them. His hands are similarly large and strong, laced with thin scars. His voice is deep, warm, and gravelly. Paul has a fairly basic attire that he tends to wear most of the time. This includes a light beige shirt, unbuttoned to about med-chest, with breast pockets and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. On top of this he frequently wears a brown leather jacket that has numerous pockets on the inside of it. When he is being less casual, he often wears a medium green vest/jacket with brown trim and black lining. Tan breeches mold his legs and a brown leather belt adorns his waist. He has tall brown leather boots, and only those with the most discerning eyes can tell there is a knife concealed in his right boot. Hanging from the belt and strapped to his left thigh is a blaster holster, equiped with blaster. Occassionally, he wears a battered brown hat that has seen better days, but has enough character to still look good. Ariana continues to stare at the tarmac with a look of absolute and and utter dejection blanketing her now-pale features, the comlink rolling unfelt from her fingers to the ground. "They left," she repeats weakly. "They just left." Slowing down abruptly, Paul jogs, then walks, to where Ariana stands in mute astonishment and rage. Sure enough, the ships are gone, and where that leaves the woman before him, Paul isn't sure, but he knows, without a doubt, that it will mean trouble for him. Reaching out with a hand, he touches her shoulder lightly. "Where? Why?" he murmurs softly, knowing no gentle way to ask. Shenner comes around the _Hawk's Wing_, and blinks, three times, at the sight of the figures of Paul and Ariana. They are outside the young redhead's earshot, and uncertainly, Shen stays where she is, watching the pair and trying to figure out if she dares go any nearer. Ariana looks around, doing complete circles, as if the capital ships could be hiding somewhere, as if she has mistaken their former positions. Tears, twin crystals, slide down her cheeks, and for a moment she appears unlikely to remain vertical. Catching her shoulders again, Paul peers into Ariana's face, and with a soft oath, wraps one arm around her shoulders, leading her toward Hawk's Wing. "Okay, let's go someplace quiet and have a nice stiff drink," he coaxes persuasively. Shenner bites her lip, and finally inches towards the two, calling out, "Hey, uh, Paul?" Ariana's head shakes vehemently. "No...I need to...no. If he needs me...if they need me...but...everything...but...." Catching Shenner's voice from the bustle of the tarmac's air, Paul sees her instantly as -helper- and -assistant-. "Shen, grab the comlink," he barks, jerking his head to where the broken unit, dropped by Ariana after being crushed, lays near the blast marks. Tipping his head back to Ariana, he murmurs softly, soothingly, "It's alright, we'll match the coordinates, get a link in place so he can reach you ... but we need to do that on board." Urging her along, Paul flashes Shen a grateful look. "Let's get you a little more settled first," he rumbles rationally to the blond in his grasp. Little if any effort is required to take control of Ariana's limp, unresisting body; her eyes are focussed, barely, on the spot the Wild Karrde had occupied, her attention heaven knows how many light years away. She has the stunned expression of someone who has just been told some exceedingly bad and exceedingly unexpected news. Shen frowns in confusion, but instantly moves to do as Paul requests, scooping up the pieces of the device before her. Paul_Nighman enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt Paul_Nighman has left. Ariana enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt Ariana has left. Shenner enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt Main Ring -- Quasar Bolt(#6524RVat) This is the main area of the ship and obviously serves multiple purposes. The entrance is open and airy, with several couches and a table. It is designed to be an area for passengers and the occasional crew to lounge in. There is a computer terminal available in one corner. To the right, sectioned off slightly, is a kitchen area, well stocked with the latest in cooking equipment as well as a fine assortment of food. Off to the back of the entrance space is a walled off crew quarters section. To save space, the bunks are folded up into the wall space and can be pulled down at will. There is a storage unit available for personal belongings next to each bunk compartment. There is a door visible, leading off to the right next to the kitchen, but it is locked. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Ariana => Paul_Nighman => Captain's Quarters -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- leads to Landing Pad - Union Starport. ft leads to Cargo Hold -- Quasar Bolt. ore leads to Cockpit -- Quasar Bolt. Shenner enters Main Ring -- Quasar Bolt Shenner comes in behind the two older ones, pieces of comlink in her hands. She passes the guitar she'd left propped against the wall near the hatch, and arranges her features in a bemused, concerned little frown. Settling Ariana down on a couch, Paul turns, filling the glass that he had taken from her grasp not more than half an hour ago. Handing her the amber fluid, nearly spilling the brim, he waits to make sure that she isn't going to just run off again. "Shen, just place the comlink bits on the table, willya?" he murmurs absently, any semblance of manners set to flight by the events of the past hour. The young woman behind Paul does so, her brow furrowed, her face plainly curious, though she has yet to actually _ask_ anything. Ariana takes a long, steady drink, coughing, an amber spray raised before her, then she sets down the glass with great care and mumbles, "I should get...back somewhere. Anywhere. And wait. And just...just freaking WAIT. I can't DO that. I can't. Not when everyone's gone off and left me like some blasted..." "Then you can sit and wait here," Paul informs her firmly. Flashing Shenner an inexplicable look, Paul touches the door panel, closing the hatch and locking it with a quick and subtle gesture. Turning to the pieces of the comlink, he quickly determines that it is relatively unfixable. Reaching to an overhead compartment, he pulls out a smaller toolbox, setting it beside the pieces. Opening it, he flashes Ariana a quick glance before heading over to the bar to pour himself a glass. Passing Shen on the way to the table, he remembers his manners, fractionally. "Shenner, Ariana. Ariana, Shenner, my assistant." Settling down into a chair, he pulls out a small tool, probing at the comlinks guts. "So, who left you, where did they go, and why?" he quizzes her again. Paul's look being, well, inexplicable, Shenner continues to look rather confused. But she smiles a little, lopsidedly, at the woman Paul's brought onto the ship. Ariana cannot even begin to smile in return, her eyes sad and expressing profound confusion. "Hello," she mumbles to Shenner before downing the rest of her drink. Probing the comlink for a few moments rewards Paul with the desired results in short order. Rising, he heads over to the captain's quarters where he and Shen have been sleeping. "Be right back, need to get the spare link," he mutters in explanation, before opening the door and disappearing inside. Ariana would rise to refill her drink but her legs seem to decline operation, so instead she sits there, staring into nothingness, trying futilely to get a grasp on what she should do. The thin young redhead watches Paul go, then turns her green gaze to the shaken woman before her. A touch awkwardly, the girl puts forth a lean hand to take the glass, and offers, "I can get you somethin' else to drink if you want...?" Ariana clenches her fingers for a moment, so tightly the glass looks to be in danger, then she lets go and shakes her head. "I should go," she mumbles, looking vaguely discomfited. Shen purses her lips, then rocks back slightly on her heels, giving this woman some space. "Hey," she says, grinning slightly lopsidedly, "if you're a friend of Paul's, no big deal for you to be here, yah know?" "But..." Ariana looks at the younger woman, myriad emotions in her irises, emotions that seem to fit her features about as well as stormtrooper armor fits a mynock. "I can't just sit here. I can't." The door slides open, and Paul emerges, holding a small comlink in his palm. His eyes intent on the workings of his hands, his large but nimble fingers re-configure the coordinates pulled from the damaged comlink. Raising his gaze to the woman seated on the couch, he releases a soft sigh, as if relieved and surprised to see her still there. "Here," he offers, holding out the replacement comlink to her. "Should he ... they ... whoever, need to get in touch with you, this should pick up their signal clearly." Bemusedly, the girl shrugs her lean shoulders, and says with a rough sort of gentleness, "Well... that's your business; I dunno what's wrong, but I know... ah, Paul..." Grateful for the interruption of his return, Shen smiles sheepishly at Ariana, before inching back a bit, as if thinking she's intruding or something. Ariana is on her feet in an instant, taking the comlink with gratitude freely flowing. "Thank you, Paul...I'm really terribly sorry about all this, but..but..." She looks at the comlink, switches it on, then switches it off and sits back down again. With a wry smile and a negligent shrug, Paul mumbles, "S'okay, no trouble at all." Glancing about the cabin thoughtfully, he returns his gaze to Ariana. "So, you have some place to stay? They didn't take all of your stuff with them I hope?" Ariana's features fall again, and her eyes flicker at the door with a grimace. "Blast and damn and...ARGH! Yes, my entire freaking wardrobe is on that ship. Damn it. DAMN it." Shenner wrinkles her nose, and offers gruffly, "Uh, I, if you need anything to wear, I got a few more shirts... dunno if they'll fitcha..." Ariana looks at you for a moment. His eyes downcast for a moment, Paul sighs deeply, raising them again. "Sorry," he apologizes, even though it isn't even remotely his fault. _I'm going to regret this, I just know I am_ his mind rattles at him, but his mouth openes anyway. "If you need a place to crash, for the night or whatever, you're welcome to stay here. It's not fancy, but it's warm, there's bunks, and there's food." His eyes flicker to Shenner and then returns to Ariana. "Yeah, we can keep you clothed between the two of us ... you may not be a fashion layout, but I think you'll be presentable." He offers her a sweet smile, trying to make light of an obviously tragic situation. Shenner looks somewhat less certain about this than her Corellian companion, but it would seem that this young redhead trusts Paul Nighman explicitly, for she isn't voicing any complaint. She gives the man a brief supportive look back in response. Ariana smiles faintly, the first slightly easier expression she had issued all night, "Your offer's kind, Paul, but," and her glance moves to Shenner, "I don't want to intrude, and realistically my place back at Kichnar's all right for the time being. If I'm needed, that's where I will be reached anyway." Shrugging his shoulders in response, Paul's eyes flicker to Shenner again with a puzzled edge, as if not understanding what Ariana could possibly mean. His rich tenor fills the small cabin easily. "It's no intrusion but, well, it's your choice of course. Is there a shuttle that you can catch?" Shenner just bites one corner of her lip, looking baffled and trying to look casual instead. Ariana shakes her head and remarks quietly, sounding somewhat more in control, "I was asked to stay here. And, as much as I hate it, I'll have to do that. I'm..." She sighs, swallows, and begins again. "I'm really sorry about any problems. I won't be ... I won't make that mistake again." The woman is babbling in Paul's opinion. He considers asking her -what- she is sorry about, and -which- mistake she won't make again, but with Shenner in the room as well, he's smart enough to see the potential awkwardness of the whole thing. _Well, just invest in a little S&N_ he thinks to himself, _Smile and Nod_ Nodding in his in accordance to that decision, Paul walks over to the doorway, leaning against the controls and subtly unlocking the hatch as he does so. "No problem," he assures her, "and I'm sorry that things didn't work out." He leaves the meaning of that statement deliberately vague and open, as any interpretation she should care to take on it would be accurate, if not complete. Ariana glances at Shenner again, then at Paul, and the creases in her forehead deepen while a frown surges to the forefront. "I think things worked out for the best, because this sort of mistake's not the sort of mistake I allow myself to make," she murmurs almost a bit frostily. Her eyes close then, her head bows, and with a muttered curse she nods again to the two with her and heads for the exit. Shenner, more clearly disconcerted now, takes a few steps backwards and tries to look inconspicuous. Paul, on the other hand, takes a few steps forward, catching Ariana's hand in his own. "Hey," he murmurs, but there is nothing to really be said. Cocking his head to one side he smiles ironically and finishes, "See ya around, eh?" With a rather deliberate glance at Shenner, Ariana replies with a touch of the arctic air just heard, "I think it might be best if that doesn't happen, but one never knows. Thanks again." Ariana has left. Shenner's face closes off, and, uncomfortably, the girl creeps off towards the cargo hold, murmuring, "'Scuse me..." You head down the corridor into the Cargo Hold. Cargo Hold -- Quasar Bolt The cargo hold is set up with various cargo nets, stasis units, shelves and open floor space. The hold is not very large, but has been designed so that every inch of it can be efficiently filled to full capacity. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Cargo Computer: Quasar Bolt -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- ore leads to Main Ring -- Quasar Bolt. Shenner enters Cargo Hold -- Quasar Bolt Paul_Nighman comes through the corridor from the Main Ring. Paul_Nighman has arrived. Paul_Nighman enters Cargo Hold -- Quasar Bolt Shenner is simply standing there in the hold, her arms wrapped lightly about herself, frowning unsurely and deep in thought. There is a startled moment before Paul realizes that Shenner has left. Shaking his head, he turns sharply, following after her. _What -is- it with the women around here, are they all nuts?_ he puzzles. Coming into the room, he eyes Shen almost warily. Clearing his expression and his throat, Paul calls out, "Ah, Shen? Anything wrong?" The girl turns readily. Her brow is crinkled under her thick forelock, and her eyes are somewhat anxious, but she does meet Paul with a steady gaze as she answers plaintively, "I... ain't exactly sure, pal..." A frown creasing his forehead fractionally, Paul steps forward, reaching up, hesitating briefly, as if his touch might not be welcome, and the finally placing his hands on Shen's upper arms. "Is it me? I've been kinda weird lately, I know ...." he murmurs huskily, his voice tainted with discomfort and what sounds like shame. Shenner's face softens a little at the contact; shyly, she lifts a hand up towards Paul's shoulder as she tells him earnestly, "No...! You got a lot on your mind and everythng, I know. You ain't done nothin'." Her mouth quirks up in a bit of a smile. Cocking his head to one side, Paul examines the slender redhead before him. Ariana may be more glamorous, more "traditionally" beautiful, but she is no Shenneret Veery. Considering the woman before him curiously, Paul marvels silently at the changes that have been effected in his life. _And she's one of the culprits .... Personal Troublemaker number one_ he muses. Rubbing her arms softly, the brandied tones probe, "Then what is it?" Shen blushes a bit, dropping her gaze for a moment, then raising it again, her look strangely half-timid, half-straightforward. "Your... friend? seemed a little annoyed at me for some reason," she admits roughly. A deep chuckle burbles up and out, echoing lightly in the near empty cargo hold. "She was pissed, period," he assures her, "it had nothing to do with you, honest." Rubbing her arms again, the hands drop away and Paul strolls over to an empty crate, settling himself against it and folding his arms absently. "To be quiet honest, the woman is a complete enigma to me." Shenner pads over in the Corellian's wake, and asks uncertainly, "So... _is_ she a friend of yours?" Shen, on her voicing of 'friend', sounds slightly uneasy, as if not quite sure how she wants to phrase that word. She adds, "I mean... I ain't got too good a record with impressions on yer friends so far... Marcus don't seem too charmed." She smirks a bit, scuffs a toe along the deck, and frowns as she hears herself rambling. The smile twists, growing peculiar and ironic. "I barely consider her an aquaintance actually," he admits. "But you know me, sniffing curiously after every stray it seems." Shaking his head as he reviews the incidents involving this woman, Paul continues his unsolicted explanation. "We've met twice before, the first time wasn't even memorable for me," he explains evasively, "and the time after that was on Calamari, the morning we left ... we had the strangest conversation over breakfast ... practically a fight really." Shenner turns her head to listen to Paul, though, nodding slowly, nibbling her lower lip. Marcus is still too sore a subject, and opinions of friends and colleagues is still something Paul doesn't feel at all comfortable with. _Good thing I'm normally such an anti-social bastard_ he ruminates, _then I don't have to explain anything to anyone_ "Don't concern yourself over it," he tosses off lightly, surging back up to his feet. "Well, she was lookin' at me funny, and Marcus was lookin' at me funny... I just don't wanna embarrass you, is all..." Shen's voice roughens a bit further, and she nods uncomfortably, trying to lighten her expression when she sees Paul's response. "-You- don't embarass me," he mutters with an odd emphasis. "Besides, what do I care, right? I mean, it's my life, isn't it?" One eyebrow drops as the defensive tone rings hollow in his own ears. "I'm hungry," he growls, looking for a random excuse to change the subject. "You hungry?" The kid smiles wanly, pleased by the words, less sure about the tone. "Yeah," she answers back. "Ain't had nothin' tonight...." Offering her the same choice as he did Ariana, Paul glances back at Shen as he moves toward the hatch. "In or out?" Relaxing a little more -- perhaps unconsciously responding to Paul's change of subject, and perhaps simply to his presence -- Shen tags after him and says easily, "I'd like either... if you know someplace good to get food out, or if you just wanna take it easy on the ship tonight." "Well, there's the Oceanside," he informs her, recalling that he was taking Ariana there just a little awhile ago, before she freaked out on him. "Either works for me," he rumbles. "I've been working on the ship for days, catching a bite here and there, so out would be different." Then his gaze drops to Shen again, recalling that he hasn't been spending any time with her really. In fact, if he was honest with himself, he would realize that he'd been virtually ignoring her. They spent the nights together, but for the most part, that was nothing more than sharing a bed. "Of course, sometime home cooked and quiet is also nice ... your call." Shen considers this, looking up into Paul's face, a rueful smile curving one side of her mouth. "Does it count as home-cooked, if you get it out of ship's stores?" "Sacrilege," scoffs the Corellian, a flare for the dramatic making his eyebrows raise in mock horror. Ambling along toward the tiny kitchen, Paul opens the cooling unit to reveal fresh groceries. "I went shopping. That pre-packaged stuff will kill a man ... eventually." Shenner trails along with her friend, and grins a bit. "I'd... like your cookin'," she says, softly. "I could help make somethin', maybe?" Leaning against the counter at his back, Paul considers the girl with a speculative grin. "Are you any good?" he jabs in playful volley, "I mean, can you cook?" Shenner turns promptly scarlet, indicating that she did indeed get _that_ little sally, but her smile gets bigger. "Gettin' better with practice, and the same probably goes for makin' food, too," she retorts. Laughing at her unexpected response, Paul shifts his hip over, making room. "Alright, then get your butt in here." Grinning now, Shen slides into the tiny nook, still blushing a bit at the close quarters. Her eyes draw themselves to Paul, not surprising her, though she tries to hide the blush. "What could we make?" That makes rather inappropriate, not to mention scandalous, ideas flit through Paul's mind. Reaching across her, his torso pressing firmly against Shen's, Paul opens up the cooling unit, pulling out a bowl with something liquid and something solid in it, a bag of unknown contents, and a few random bottles and ingredients. He settles them all behind Shenner, which causes his body to press against her's with fluctuating pressure as he reaches and deposits. Calmly, and with a evil smirk, he closes the unit's door and leans back against his portion of the counter. "Good stuff," he informs her nonchalant voice. Shen swallows at those repeated small, close contacts, listening to her body inform her firmly that it'd like more of that, thank you. Her eyes glitter as she tries to process all those little sensations, and that, along with a remaining trace of pink across her cheeks, gives her a look somewhere between innocent and worldly, somehow outside both, like the tree sylph she'd seemed in Dream's boughs. She turns a curious glance to the ingredients fetched out, but her eyes return to Paul as she asks, "What should I do, then?" "Cooking lesson number one," Paul intones gravely, "... never do more than you have to." Pointing to the bowl, he informs Shenner, "That is game hen, and it's marinating in a brandy cream liquor, with just a hint of orange. Time does all the work for us there. All we have to do is cook it for about 10 minutes or so. That," he murmurs, reaching behind her again, his hips shifting - on purpose? By mistake? - against her own before he withdraws, opening the bag, "is a local veggie called Kreca. It's green and in generally greens don't cook for more than a few minutes, so they retain their vitamins and remain tasty and firm." Pulling out a handfull of the tree stalk greens, he smiles then places them on the counter. "We'll give 'em a lemon butter dressing, just for kicks and grins." Reaching to his right, Paul opens a cabinet, pulling out a loaf of bread. "Bread is perfect for any meal, especially as you can have just a little, or a lot." The crusty hand baked bread smells slightly of rosemary, and the surface is decorated with crusted rock crystals of salt. Leaning slightly to better watch what Paul is up to, Shen smiles at the bread, thinking it looks familiar, before she looks sideways up at the Corellian and says, "So we oughtta have food pretty fast..." "It won't take long to cook, no" he confirms with a short nod. "So, which do you want to be in charge of ... cooking the chicken, cooking the veggie, or cutting the bread?" "I can do bread, easy," the girl answers, still looking with rather more attention to Paul himself than the salt-topped loaf. She straightens as best she can in the small space she is occupying, and finds that that only puts her closer to Paul. Pinkening, she murmurs, "I need a knife." Reaching down past her hip, Paul gingerly opens a drawer and pulls one out. "So, how long do you think we have before one of us accidentally kills or maims the other, hmmmm?" Handing her the knife, Paul once again leans into her, pointing the knife to the side so as not to impale himself upon it. Gathering up the bowl he retreats to his tiny corner, placing it beside him. "Or somethin' else," Shenner murmurs, very softly, turning red again. She immediately focuses on cutting the bread -- mostly. A fraction of her attention goes to sliding a look over to Paul, to see whether he heard her. Her comment must have slipped his mind, or perhaps he's just feigning ignorance. Removing the chicken from the bowl, he sets it in a dish to cook, placing it in the heating unit, then doing the same with the vegetable, placing some butter and lemon juice with it as he does so. "Done!" he yips playfully, and spinning around he takes the knife out of Shenner's hand and places it on the counter before slipping his arms about her waist, biting lightly on her ear. "Didn't want you to cut yourself," he explains helpfully. "That'd suck," Shen agrees, that glitter in her eyes brightening as those arms encircle her. Her own wind softly around Paul's hips, and she smiles tentatively. "We have ten whole minutes to kill," he informs her somberly. His hands link together at the small of her back, pulling her pelvis against his own. "Whatever shall we do?" he murmurs as his head tips closer to her own, his breath feathering over her lengthening bangs, his own disobedient swath falling over his hazel eyes. Shenner whispers, "We'll just hafta make do..." Shyly, she lifts herself up a little on her toes, drawing her mouth up to place a kiss along Paul's jawline. One hand stretches back, clearing the counter blindly before returning to her hip. The hands at her back pull and then lift, picking Shen up easily and placing her on the counter behind. Pressing himself closer then, Paul leans into Shen, rubbing his cheek against hers before sampling the spot where her neck and jawline meet. The girl's head bends obligingly, and her pulse skips a beat beneath her pale skin. Her arms lift up towards Paul's shoulderblades and neck, better steadying herself against him, and one of her hands brushes through his hair at the back of his head. Pressing forward between her legs, Paul rests against the counter's edge, pulling her flush against him, his hands digging restlessly into her hips. Tiliting his head upward, he captures her lips easily, murmuring encouragingly as he parts them. She has, it would seem, grown more comfortable with this Corellian before her the longer she's been with him, for Shenner twines herself around him slowly but surely. Her answering kiss is a curious one, her mouth soft in its deliverance. Unhurried hands range upward, stroking along her back and sides, stroking through the light weight of her shirt. It's a comfortable easy kiss, his lips cruising hers, occassionally foraying. One hand strays, catching the nape of her neck, adding it's weight to deepen the kiss, holding her head close, slanting his mouth under hers. The free hand drops to her waist and then drags along her left thigh, pulling it tight to his side. Shen twines her legs around Paul as best she can, and, greatly daring, whispers into his nearer ear when she comes up for air, "Missed you today..." "What? A grease monkey like me? Nyah," he teases against her throat, nipping lightly down it's length. "I've been neglecting you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to the dip between her collarbones. The hand at her neck reaches up, slipping through her hair, stroking the back of her head, trailing lines of fire and ice down her spine. "You got a lot on your mind," she whispers, voice breathy. Her mouth brushes against Paul's brow and hair, wherever she can reach. Catching her face between his palms, he draws his own back, searching the depths of her emerald gaze. "No excuse," he berates lightly, his voice pitched low and deep. Pulling her face to his own, his eyes flutter closed, his lips brushing over hers. "Kiss me Shen," he breathes, commands, requests .... A sharp, surprised, delighted little sigh escapes her, then the young musician presses her mouth against his. It occurs to her to wonder why he thinks he's neglecting her when he hasn't much treated her differently than he ever has... but the thought quickly vanishes out of immediate awareness as she immerses herself in that kiss. Framing her face with his hands, Paul concentrates on that point of contact, responding to her cues, following her leads, much as he might had she been playing her flute, he the guitar. The cool steady note of her lips, the trill of her tongue are echoed and expanded upon until Paul grows impatient. Taking the lead line back, he plunges deep into the melody, drawing out the chords and plunging into a chaotic, burning rhythm. Shen's twined limbs pull tighter around Paul's upper body, as it suddenly becomes of paramount importance to her to be as close to him as she can possibly get. Her slim young form responds, growing tauter, her pulse more rapid, her breath more warm. There's an insistent buzzing in Paul's ear, as annoying as an insect, but not as obvious a source. Freeing Shen's mouth for a breath, Paul ignores the beep of the forgotten timer, covering her lips again before she can recover, his hands releasing her face to drag at her hips, grinding against her persuasively. "Mrmm?" Shen mumbles in that brief instant her mouth is free. "Timer? Mmmmmmmm..." Distracted anew by the renewed campaign on her senses, she presses closer still against the Corellian, finding him a far more urgent demand on her attention. It's been awhile since Paul's cooked on a ship, specifically a Gnat. The designers, realizing that pilots are an absent minded bunch, apt to get distracted by, say flying, when they should be settling down for dinner, put in a safety device to prevent food from burning. A soft click, completely ignored by Paul in the middle of his current exploration, signals the automatic shut off of the heating units. However, that is not enough in the minds of the engineers. Oh no, for who will get blamed when the pilot wanders out to find his dinner cold and gelatinous? Yes, provisions were made for this very contingency. Paul's hands, now beneath Shenner's shirt, have traveled their way along her back, fingers delving into her flesh, gripping her hips with a new intensity. A high pitch squeal, easily heard from the cockpit and deafening in the immediate vicinity has Paul jerking back hard, wheeling around in an instinctive gesture borne from years of experience. There is only one thing in his mind now ... to silence the heating harpy before he loses his hearing altogether. His aim precise, his determination unparallelled, the screech ends with a sudden and blessed hiccup. Shenner jerks at the sudden shriek, jerks again as Paul whirls away, and sits there blinking dazedly as her system reels from the aftereffects of that earshattering noise on her heightened senses. Leaning against the counter heavily, Paul turns, his own brain still adjusting to the shock of sound, motion, and the consequential ringing silence. Taking in a somewhat ragged breath, Paul shifts, walking the few steps back over to Shen and wrapping his arms about her waist, laying his head on her chest. "Well, that was certainly a mood breaker," he jokes weakly. Shen lets out a gruff little giggle and curls her arms around Paul's shoulders, lowering her cheek to rest against his hair, and still finding pleasure in his touch even if she's just been practically deafened. "Does it do that every time?" "Only if you're disobedient and seducing a woman on the counter instead of heeding it's first warning and relieving it from it's duties," he rails softly. "Such a slaver driver, that stove," he mumbles against her shirt, rubbing his cheek against the soft, worn fabric. Paul_Nighman looks at you for a moment. Feeling a small, soft warmness behind her breastbone at being labelled 'woman' -- not to mention Paul's nuzzling there -- then scoffing at herself for reacting like a kid to it, then rallying right back at herself that she doesn't care, Shen asks quite soberly, "Think it'd be less cranky if we ate?" But she continues to hold him, breathing in the scent of his hair. "It won't scream at us any more, if that's what you mean," he teases. Pulling back so he can look at her face, forest-centered hazel eyes gaze into emerald. "Personally, I don't think it gives a damn whether we eat or not, it just doesn't like to be burdened any more than it has to be." Leaning forward, his eyes narrowing, focusing on her mouth again. "As for eating, I suppose it's the proper thing to do," he half-growls, his eyes glittering beneath the long dark lashes. "Never been educated in propriety," Shen breathes, then catches herself slightly, looking surprised at what she'd just blurted. A blush steals across her face, but her gaze stays on Paul's as she smiles sheepishly. "But guess it's the street r-- kid in me, hate the thought of wastin' food..." A frown flickerfades over Paul's features at her half slip. Scooping her off of the counter, Paul sets her down on her feet, a teasing smile gracing his lips. "Propriety ... pretty big word. I'm impressed. Try adding a pronoun at the beginning of that sentence and you'll be golden." Dropping a quick kiss across her mouth, Paul turns, pulling dishes down from the overhead cabinets. "Okay, you get the bread out and set the table, I'll bring out the grub." Shenner flashes a lopsided smile in reply, fetching the bread in question, and taking the time to ferry dishes to the tiny table out in the hold, barely bigger than this nook of a kitchen. "And for my next trick, I'll use proper grammar," she mutters, sounding half-embarrassed, half-amused. Emerging with the rest of the meal, Paul places the platters down on the table, and then in a gentlemanly gesture, he pulls a chair out for Shenner, holding it for her. "Don't bother on my account," he murmurs. "I like you just fine the way you are." The bread and dishes already waiting on the table now, Shen turns with empty hands, a huge smile threatening to blossom across her face even as she strives to look casual, and she murmurs back, "I like you too, pal," as she sinks int the offered chair. Tucking her in securely to the table, Paul serves up the food for the both of them before seating himself across from her. Blinking for a moment at the spread before, his eyes noting that -something- is missing but not recognizing what, Paul hmmms softly. "Ah!" he remarks suddenly, and rising, he reaches into the liquor cabinet to pull out a dry but fruity Corellian sherry. Pouring out two glasses, he seats himself and the bottle back down at the table. "Whoa... special," Shen says, wryly, deliberately lightly -- but irrationally touched by that one little extra gesture. With dinner before her, Shen starts eating quickly -- old habits die hard, and Shen's dictate that food must be eaten lest it suddenly disappear on her. But in between swallows of chicken and sherry, she smiles at Paul and asks him of Marcus, the academy, what he's been doing -- anxious to not only hear the information, but to look for ways she can earn that title of 'assistant'. And anxious, too, for further clues about Paul's friend and how he might react to her, though she doesn't voice that niggling worry. The smile and the replies are a little forced, the topic not being his favorite one at the moment, but nonetheless relevant. Natural Corellian charm and years of practice keeps Paul's tone light and conversational, his features schooled and companionable. Unfortunately, it's all inconclusive. Marcus apparently still cannot remember what happened to him or the _Bolt_, the doctors cannot find a cause for the memory loss. Other than that, time has been spent either in research, working on the ship's outdated systems and repairs, and deadend searches for answers regarding his ship. There is absolutely no mention of their relationship or how anyone might picture it. That is ground that is unsteady as well, as Paul recalls just how close he was to reverting to old habits this very evening. During lulls in conversation, Paul finds his gaze creeping over to consider Shenner from time to time, uncertainty coloring his thoughts now that introspection has settled in once again. Shen has yet to learn to savor a meal, and this one is no exception; in hardly any time at all she's devoured her share of chicken and greens, and the bread is obviously a hit with her, for she's gone through two slices of the stuff and is nibbling on a third when she catches Paul's searching regard. "What....?" Caught and embarrassed, not to mention unwilling to divulge his thoughts, Paul shakes his head, reaching for the sherry. "Nothing ... want some more?" he queries, pouring her glass full again without waiting for a response. Refilling his own glass, Paul deposits the bottle back on the table, reaching for the glass to take a taste. "It's pretty good with the bread," Shen observes, experimentally dipping a bit of bread in her glass to soak up sherry, then popping the bit into her mouth. She eyes Paul, and his evasion, and after a moment's thought decides this must be one of those things on which she Should Not Press. So she just grins a bit and offers, "I, uh, tackled a new math disc this morning. Trig!" Raising his glass in toast, Paul murmurs "To higher learning ... you certainly are tenacious about this." The words are teasing, but the admiration and approval are obvious in both the tone and the glint in his eyes. "Going to study all night long?" Shen raises her glass back, brightening a bit as she responds to the praise in her companion's voice and eyes. Her mouth quirks, as she murmurs, "Been thinkin' about that..." "Hitting the discs hard?" he murmurs, finishing off his own glass. "Don't be too reckless ... you've seen the dangers of being a study-geek," he warns in half-mocking tones. "You can't hold me responsible if your brain turns to mush." Ostensibly casually, the girl rolls a shoulder in a shrug, and casts a glance off across the hold to hide her sudden blush as she says, "Well, this course of research is kinda important, see." Reaching over for her plate, Paul stacks it on top of his own empty one, his eyes catching hers subtly. "Oh? How important? Is there going to be a quiz?" Shen adds in a huskier voice than she probably intends, her gaze slipping back to her companion, "It's a measurin' problem... time... distance." Her eyes, caught, linger shyly on Paul's face. Pushing the dishes aside, Paul leans across the table, his chin dropping into the palm of one hand while the other lays before him, as if the bridge the gap between them. "Uh-huh," he rumbles, the drink making him feel warm and a little muzzy, very comfortable, but with a hint of energy running along the surface. "Like one of those, "If you were on a ship in hyperspace traveling 12 parcecs, and another ship was in hyperspace on a direct, but opposite course, traveling 12 parsecs, and what point in hyperspace would the two ships pass one another in the night?" One of those yawns?" He blinks, slowly, the lashes dropping down and rising up in a lazy, unconsciously seductive gesture. "Yeah," Shenner breathes, "'cept this one goes a little different..." Her drink forgotten, she stares across the table, once more seeming poised between naivete and knowing. His gaze intent, his smile knowing, Paul voice flows like a dark rich Corellian ale, soft and robust in flavor and texture. "How does -this- one go?" he murmurs, feeling an unexpected tingle and flush in the pit of his stomach. By way of reply, the girl gets to her feet and circles the table, to stand before Paul. She lifts a hand, and whispers earnestly, "Somethin' like this... 'If your hand is, oh, yay long'" -- and she flutters her other hand at the one she's lifted, for a moment, before shyly moving the lifted one to the back of Paul's neck -- "'and you have to cover everything between here and here'" -- the hand drops down to the small of Paul's back -- "'how long does it take... and is it longer if you use both hands...?'" Shen trails off, then, blushing noticeably, but staring at her companion in rapt fascination. Twisting in his chair, the warmth surging up and down, Paul stands slowly, his gaze penetrating and darkening with interest. "And what did you decide the answer was?" he quizzes her, looming close, but making no further advance. "Well, you, uh, know how you're always sayin'..." And the girl blushes again, but continues gamely, "... that you gotta verify your results....?" "Alright," he rasps softly, "let's put the theory into practice ... so if I have to get from here," and he places a palm between her breasts, "to here," he murmurs, placing the other palm against the apex of her thighs, "then what?" Leaning his head closer, Paul breathes softly, "Show me, don't tell me ..." The redheaded lass swallows, a smile crooking about her mouth, marvellingly. And she starts to murmur something back, but changes her mind and settles instead for reaching up to knead her own palm softly against Paul's right shoulderblade. "Different problem," she manages to whisper while her other hand kneads fingertips into Paul's lower back. "You're taller...." "Shall I even the odds?" he queries, the two hands sliding, one up the other down, to meet at her belly, turning and sliding sideways to wrap around her. His hands easily span her thin waist, fingertips meeting, the heat of his palms burning into her body. Lowering his head, Paul brushes his lips against her neck. "This is complex math," he murmurs, "you sure you're up to this?" _What am I doing?_ Shen wonders in amazement at herself, part of her hanging ever so slightly back in her mind and observing this charged interplay between her and the Corellian, and finding an almost dreamlike quality to it. Closer to him now, she can reach further around him, and her hands itch with the yen for contact with him. "Got a real good tutor..." Edging her backwards, Paul presses Shen back against a wall, leaning into her hard. "Can't rely on me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her mouth now, his words feathering her lips. "I got a C in Trig." The back of Shenner's mind registers with some amazement that the Shenner it thought it knew appears to have gotten rather bolder, even as Shen, giddy with the half-formed awareness of a new freedom between her and this man, reacts to it almost as if it'd been the sherry in her glass. "Back to field work, I guess," she whispers back through the glancing kiss, feeling a surge of triumph for having remembered the term 'field work' from that archaeology text in Paul's father's house. Her hands begin a slow but steady exploration of his back, like a young cat's paws kneading into a mother feline. Nipping at her bottom lip, Paul rumbles, "One should always take many samples, run tests, confirm one's findings ... compare notes." Holding her close, he devours her mouth much the same way as she devoured her dinner, pulling her along with him to the Captain's Quarters and their bed. "Pay attention," he warns her teasingly, "There may be a pop quiz tomorrow." [End log.]