Daily Logs 8-28-15

I. Rorin and Fallan come up with plans
II. Leslie and Lev share the same misery
III.  Brava the Klingon, with Shoulder Cat Companion...
IV. ...Demands to see a Captain


I.
Fallan: *He's sitting up on the counter in the science lab, flopped over on his side and moping. He hates being a cat. He hates what he looks like. He is filled with such sadness and misery and bodily horror. He looks at his PADD, and swats it off the table in irritation.*
Rorin: *his scans didn't make anything clearer, but they're specified on cartography and he's no scientist after all (and neither is Kelsey...), enters the science lab and is about to look around just when—a cat? swats its PADD of the table* *startles from the Sudden PADD and just stares at the cat for a few seconds, then realizes how...it's miserable?* *and who is it? He has a feeling but...* *heads over*
Fallan: *He hears someone approaching. Pleaaase leave me to stew in my own misery. He turns around, and--oh good!--it's Rorin. He looks well today. He gets up to a seated position to look slightly more dignified.* Rorin, is something the matter?
Rorin: *nods* You could say that, yes. *for one, you are a cat...* *stops at the counter, hesitating briefly, looking at Science Cat* * struggles with his approach because he was ready for a lot, but obviously not for this* You, ah. Fallan?
Fallan: *He nods.* ...Yes. I don't look it to you? You don't recall me being...like this? *There's a tiny bit of hope. Maybe he's /not/ a real cat. Maybe Erika was wrong.*
Rorin: *shakes his head* No, to be honest. I don't recall you being like this. *pause* Do you? *...please say that you don't :/*
Fallan: I...did not. But I had just thought that, since other people did remember me this way, perhaps my memories were wrong. *He's flooded with relief though. Thank /spirits/. I'm not a cat, I'm not I'm not! His tail flicks upwards into the air with this good news.* I firmly believe I am /not/ a cat. I'm Efrosian.
Rorin: *exhales relieved* That is what I remember you as. *nods, it's even a little enthusiastic* Efrosian, yes. No cat. *small smile* I already feared you thought this was your normal condition.
Fallan: Good. *His tail whips.* I don't like cats. *Don't like is putting it lightly. he's scared of them.* But, well, i suppose you came here to do more than gawk at me and ask to pet me?
Rorin: *nods again, still looking very relieved* I was hoping to find someone in Science who doesn't believe that all these odd alterations are normal. *small headshake* Well, I can't prove that they aren't. Obviously a lot of people do believe that it's us who are wrong. But I don't feel like I'm wrong. *said as if it totally makes a valid point, the Feels are not wrong* *let's just not mention that he's felt like truly being a vampire, don't question the Feels* So I'm trying to prove it somehow.
Fallan: I feel as if I'm right as well. I can clearly remember what it was like to not have fur. *He bristles a bit. He taps around a little empty sample jar to release his frustration.* But I'm afriad I don't have the means to prove it. I am a cat, according to all our tricorders and scanners. *He knocks it off the table.*
Rorin: *watches him, but doesn't comment on the choice of Fallan's vent, he's sorry that he turned into a cat, it must be bad* *sighs quietly* Nothing seems to be wrong with anyone's readings. I ran many scans via astrometrics, but there seems to be nothing odd out there. No anomaly, no questionable particles, no rifts, nothing. Sciences has much more detailed options, though, so I came here. *small shrug-headshake* Also because I'm still looking for people who have the same memory basis as I.
Rorin: *thoughtfully* Yes. I'm not too sure about anything, either. But what many of us seem to have in common is, that whatever turned weird, started on Sunday. *looks at him quizzically*
Fallan: ...That's true. It did start on sunday. You are sure we did not fly through yet another anomaly?
Rorin: *small headshake* I couldn't find any anomalies, but I'll keep searching. But perhaps the astrometrics scanners aren't able to detect it. I was hoping that sciences found out more.
Fallan: We've found nothing. Nothing that I'm aware of, anyways. *He sighs. Then knocks over some other random object.*
Rorin: *presses his lips together briefly* But there must be /something/. *crosses his arms in front of his chest* Perhaps we're on the wrong track...
Fallan: *He's run out of things to knock over.* What other track could there be? ...Could you put some of those things back for me?
Rorin: Ah, of course. *starts gathering up what Fallan dropped-- probably so he can drop it again* Well. I considered an alternate universe, but I'm abandoning that theory. Ensign Dover mentioned a simulation, though. *puts some objects back on the counter, one after another, then heads off to where Fallan swat the stirring stick*
Fallan: *It just feels so good to knock shit over like this. plap-plap-plap..plap. Drop!* Well, considering our entire multiverse might be a simulation in and of itself, it'll be near impossible to prove that true as of now. *He hopes it's not a simulation. stupid simulations. His tail whips about angrily, but Fallan himself isn't that mad. irritated, yes, but he's busy thinking.* Perhaps something is in the air again?
Rorin: In the air? *comes back with the stirring stick and puts it on the counter* Like the potential truth serum?
Fallan: *He rolls the stirring stick about a little bit as he talks* Yes, or perhaps the food we've replicated since our broken replicators contains some sort of hallucinogen or memory altering substance.
Rorin: *picks up some dropped item* Hmmm. *thoughtfully moves it in his hands* It did start shortly after the replicators broke, so it might be related. *a little frustrated with himself because he didn't think of it* Do you think it would make sense to take a replicator apart? Something is wrong and, for all we know or don't know, it could be almost anything.
Fallan: *Knocks the stirring stick off. So satisfying.* It might, but that's a theory to be proposed to the engineers. I don't know enough about how replicators really work to know if taking one apart will reveal the problem, or if the problem is in their programming and not their machinery. *Tail twitch.*
Rorin: *nods* I agree. *puts the object he was holding on the counter* Do you know anyone in engineering who is wondering about all this, too? I talked to some engineers, but. *shakes his head*
Fallan: *Immediately swats that object off the counter.* I don't. In fact, I'm not sure where most of our engineers went.
Rorin: *gathers up objects* Where they went? *concerned undertone* Well. I remember Kelsey being in Comms, but apparently now she's in Sciences. Is that what you mean? *puts the objects on the counter*
Fallan: Yes. Those that I have contacted haven't messaged me back. *Mainly, Gyles.*
Rorin: That-- is concerning. *sighs* Perhaps we, I, you, someone should check on them, then. I'd love to say they can't have vanished, but *frustrated shrug* I'm not too sure. *not even if the computer states them being aboard*
Fallan: I scratched at Richard Gyles's door and recieved no response. Maybe this calls for a trip to engineering. *He doesn't want to take apart a replicator and start another replicator malfunction week*
Rorin: *nods* It does, yes. Not only because of the replicators. The communication throughout the ship could be malfunctioning without us noticing. *and he really hopes that they haven't lost anyone ._.*
Fallan: Then I'll be sure to make a visit today. *He has nothing better to do, after all.*
Rorin: Thank you. *takes a deep breath, sorting thoughts* What you said about the air, though. Has anyone taken these scans already?
Fallan: I was in the middle of taking scans, but... *It's hard without opposable thumbs. He doesn't want to say that though. he has dignity to protect.* Well, I found it difficult. If you've free time, perhaps you could take a tricorder and scan various places in the ship? I can analyze the results.
Rorin: *nods* Will do. I'll take the scans and send you the results. And, speaking of it, all other news if I get any.
Fallan: That would be very kind of you, thank you. *Thank goodness. He sits down and becomes cat-loaf*
Rorin: You're welcome. *crosses his arms again and shifts his weight from one leg to the other* We're going to get out of this. We don't know yet how, but we will. *determined* *and stubborn*
Fallan: *somehow, that is soothing to hear, but he just doesn't know how they'll get out of it.* We seem to get out of sticky situations like this a lot.
Rorin: Heh. *nods* And this one will be no exception. *shifts his weight again and drops his arms, exhaling* But is there anything else I can do for you?
Fallan: *Scratch my ears.* ...Well, I can't think of anything.
Rorin: *small nod* Ah, all right. I hope you're doing all right. *talking to what looks like a cat but feels like Fallan is very odd, but it must be much worse for him, seeing his dislike for cats, poor Fallan ._.*
Fallan: I'm....trying. *He is not okay.* I'll be well when I'm Efrosian again.
Rorin: We're going to make that happen. *nods* Until then, though, if you'd like some company, you know how to find me.
Fallan: I do. Thank you Rorin. *He might go find him, he requires cuddles to live.*
Rorin: Well. *wry smile* I'd like the company, too. I suppose I should start with these scans, but later I'll probably go to my quarters. If nothing else comes up, that is. *cat cuddles* *this might be a little odd but luckily cats are on Rorin's scale of “animals of an acceptable size”*
Fallan: Well, that's good to know. *CUDDLES* I'll see you later today, if all goes well then.
Rorin: Yes. Good luck with engineering. *small smile* I'll see you later. *gets a tricorder and leaves to roam the Legacy's halls for scans* *Fallan is a cat though @.@* *this week* *this week is...*
Fallan: *Watches him leave, then sighs and gets going to engineering. He has no time to dwell on his dysphoria*

II.
Lev: *had the flu for a few days this week and hasn't showed for work because of it* *now finaly flees his quarters, feeling better, and needing a change of scenery, and food, so much food*
Leslie: *conveniently also needs the lounge for food, and makes a stop by the replicator to make the largest burger known to man before finding a table* *Lev looks lonely, let's sit by Lev*
Lev: *is wearing a loose shirt, not looking totaly healthy yet and also a bit... fat?* *turns out humans are geneticaly compatible with Xyrillians, which is Mira's current species in the mess, also Xyrillian males are the ones who have the babies, guess what happend, yay* *thankfully Lev is blissfully unaware that reality is messed up and things are more or less normal for him* *eating a large amount of potato salad and eggs* *hasn't noticed leslie yet*
Leslie: *sits down at his table with her plate* Hi Lev, heard you were sick. Feeling better? *he'll notice her now*
Lev: *looks up from his plate, and swallows what he has in his mouth* Hey Harrison. *still sounds a bit nasal* *sniffs* More or less. I'll need a couple more days. No matter what modern medicine throws at it, flu is really persitant. *awkward grin*
Leslie: I see it didn't mess up your appetite though. *picks up her burger but holds off on taking a bite* You still gonna be out of Sickbay for the time being?
Lev: *nods* Yeah. Untill next week. Mira wants me to take it easy, because, well, you know. *doesn't look entirely happy about the prospect of more free time, furrowing his brows a little, but what can he do*
Leslie: Can't be too careful. *nods* Yeah, I gotcha. *grins and takes a massive bite* Just let me know before you come back so I can get all my stuff out of your office.
Lev: Ha ha. Funny. On second thought, I think I'm not sure when I'll come back. let me suprise you. *and throw you out, and be mean*
Leslie: *grins* Or you could stay out. Rest as long as you want. Longer, even.
Lev: You're not stoping work just because you're pregnant, Harrison. Neither am I. *munch food* *challenge accepted*
Leslie: Yeah, but you're not- *...processing...* But- *hm* *um* *glances down at his stomach* You're sick?
Lev: *follows her gaze, and when he realises where she's looking, puts a hand on his stomach protectivly (with the fabric moving she may see the hin of a slight bump), looking to the side to see if anyone is looking at them, embarrassed* jees, Harrison, thanks for staring like that. Way to make it weird.
Leslie: It will never /not/ be weird.
Lev: *props head up in hand (on the forehead)* Please don't say that. It's hard enough to deal with as it is. *thought they were baby bros, why is Leslie so mean today*
Leslie: Sorry Lev. I just uh...um. I'm trying I promise. *takes a /massive/ bite to give herself something to do while she processes this weird bit of info*
Lev: *notices she is staring though* *looks up at her from his food again* ... You're not going to give me another talk about how to take care of myself and what not to eat, are you? I really thought we had that behind us two months ago.
Leslie: *but she wasn't staring...much* *what is going on*.............Levrance. You're a doctor. I shouldn't /have/ to tell you how to take care of yourself, except for those weeks when you don't sleep, but I thought we had put those behind us. So unless you're telling me that you're /not/ taking care of yourself?
Lev: Of course I am! I'm not that irresponsible! Especially not now! *loud exhaling, frustrated she'd think something like that* *also not really liking having this discussion in a place like the lounge*
Leslie: Then I don't see why you'd think that? I trust your abilities. And your girlfriend's.
Lev: Right. *takes a breath, rubbing hands over his face, regaining his calm* Sorry. *sigh* This is messing with me. I'm sure you know how that feels. *Leslie is pretty much the only person who really gets him at the moment, sorta, as far as he believes*
Leslie: Yeah, I surely do. All those weird hormones raging. Some parasite growing in your belly. It's a little strange. *nod, nod*
Lev: *snort* *parasite* *okay, smiles, that was funny* Not just a little. *in his case*
Leslie: *yeah really where even /is/ it* *and where is it gonna come out e.e* Mhmmmmm.
Lev: * lower ribcage/stomach, don't even ask, and they will figure it out* Be glad yours is "normal". You're not the guy pregnant with the alien baby here. *trying to overplay it with humor, grinning, but he is worried*
Leslie: Yeah, no, I'm just normal pregnant. *waves a hand* Happens every day for me. No need to worry at all. *eats more food*
Lev: Having a rough time? *looks at her, a little concerned*
Leslie: It's uh, it's just hitting me exactly what's happening. ...I know it's a little late for that but there you go. That's me for you. Heh. *^^'*
Lev: No, I get it. *looks at leslie's stomach and back up at her face* It's moving by now, right?
Leslie: *nods* Yeah. A lot. He moves a lot.
Lev: *smiles, actually a little excited* Heh, do you even manage to get enough rest with him kicking your small intestine?
Leslie: *nods* Sometimes, yeah. I've started sleeping sitting up, it seems to help a little. *little grin* Or I just wear myself out and then I don't notice.
Lev: *oh good, he already has trouble sleeping, it's just gonna get worse, oh really good ´__` * Thanks for the tipps. I'll try to remember in a month.
Leslie: You know, it might be different for you? Different anatomy and species and stuff.
Lev: *props head up in hand again* Might be, or it might not. *presses lips together , moving his hand to his stomach, gripping the fabric of his shirt* That's all I get to hear these day. "It might be different."
Leslie: Well, really, what else can you expect?
Lev: I don't know. *not this* *clears throat* It's been rough. But don't worry about it. *more directed to himself then to leslie* *doesn't want to talk about it anymore* I'm going to take back my office in Sickbay soon enough.
Leslie: I'll warn the rest of Sickbay.
Lev: And take away my chance to catch people slacking off? *slight grin*
Leslie: Oh true. I wanna be around for that. I've changed my mind. *grins back*
Lev: *tents his hands* Good.
Leslie: Now I just have to make sure I'm not one of those people. I can't use my belly as an excuse. *grump*
Lev: Not for another two months, nope.
Leslie: Only two?
Lev: You will be 7 months in, it's gonna be rough on your back.
Leslie: How do you know it isn't already? I'm small, that means I have to relatively carry more.
Lev: Because you haven't asked me to cut down your shifts yet.
Leslie: Pff, do you remember when I was in med school though? I'm stubborn and don't ask for things.
Lev: I'd have figure you'd make an exception for the parasite.
Leslie: Dammit.
Lev: *grins at her and resumes eating his lunch*
Leslie: *tilts her head, picking up her food again* Can I ask you a question?
Lev: Hm? *swallows down food* Sure.
Leslie: I don't remember, precisely, but did I ever happen to mention to you who the father is? I've had people asking me and now I'm confused about who I've told, because I thought I didn't tell anyone.
Lev: *blinks, furrows brows as he thinks about it* No. Not to me at least.
Leslie: Hm, okay. Thanks, I was just curious. *eats a bite*
Lev: No problem. *thinks* *poor leslie, must be rough for her, she's kinda alone with the baby thing, at least he has Mira with him* You know if there's anything I can do to help out, you can let me know, right?
Leslie: *nods* Yeah, but I think I got it. And I mean, I don't wanna bother you. You've got your own to worry about.
Lev: Still, we moms have to stick together. *slight grin at the choice of words, trying to be funny*
Leslie: *snorts* As long as we don't form some sort of mom group where we meet up and have lunch once a week. I will /not/ be that sort of mom. *PTA moms...*
Lev: *chuckles* Ah, no, I think I'll skip out on that.
Leslie: Great. *and we won't do the thing where we plan out our kids' wedding because that's just weird too* Then we'll make great moms. *grin*
Lev: *grins too, thought it fades into a small smile, as he thinks* Yeah. we will. *hopes so, such worry*
Leslie: *shoves more burger into her mouth*
Lev: *finishes his food, and clears his throat, and then sneezes* *rubs his nose* I should head back.
Leslie: *nods* Yeah, you should probably get more rest.
Lev: *nods and gets up* I'm not in the mood to challenge Hudson's wrath. *grins lightly again* Good luck with Sickbay.
Leslie: Thanks. *smiles* Hope you feel better soon.
Lev: ... I hope so too. See you around. *goes dump his finished plate into the recycler and leaves*
Leslie: See you. *stays and finishes her burger*


III.
Brava: *this week, woke up as a Klingon, and hasn't noticed anything different because she's always been an honorable woman of Qo'noS... unfortunately, this means that she is an unfriendly party suddenly finding herself aboard a Federation starship, and that means trouble, mostly for the other Security personnel trying to contain her* I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION! *marching down a hallway somewhere near the crew quarters, wearing a rather spiky leather outfit, and being trailed by several desperate-looking redshirts who are trying to keep her from stabbing anyone with her knife and starting a war*
Fallan: *He's walking down the hall, he was going to go find his quarters and curl up for another (very long) nap, but he sees leather spikyness and rippling muscles and stops. That's Brava. She's always been an honorable Klingon as far as he knows. Why is she angry this time, though?* Excuse me, ah, yes, slow down, don't step on me. *He's a maine coon, which is a big breed of cat, but it's still possible to squish him.* What is happening here, what's causing all this ruckus?
Brava: *looks down at the small, strange talking animal, and snarls* Out of my way! I insist on an audience with the captain of this... *grunts and squints at the overhead lights* ... junk heap! *makes a motion as if to shoo him out of the way with her foot*
Fallan: *He looks at the foot and stares that shit down. He will not budge, mostly because he still thinks he's a 5'9" brick wall of an Efrosian.* What for? Maybe I can fix whatever is bothering you and send you on your way.
Brava: *curls up her lip in disgust at the presumption of this tiny and adorable creature* This is an outrage! I am being held on this veQDuj with no explanation!
Fallan: *Wow, it has been a /long/ time since he's heard Klingon. What's veQDuj?* You've always been here though. *He can't figure out for the life of him /why/ she's here, just that she's supposed to be here.*
Brava: *veQDuj means garbage scow and oh yes she went there* Do not try to confuse me with your mind games, Federation P'taQ! One minute I was asleep in my own home, and the next, I am here! Clearly, I have been captured, and you scum have soiled my honor by doing so!! *is very upset about this*
See?! *looks accusingly at Fallan*
Fallan: *Would write this down on his PADD if he had thumbs.* So, obviously my memory is wrong, you are new here, but I'm not sure if you were taken or if you came willingly and promptly forgot. But considering we also have a five year old onboard and a small family of fifteen on board, it's likely we just went around and collected up random people because whoever is in charge is a bad decision maker. *Now he's talking real shit. Angry kitty is angry. his tail whips.* Now, if you would /kindly/ calm down and pick me up, I can lead you to someone in charge to sort this out.
Brava: Pick you up-!!!! *scoffs* I would not dare to soil myself by touching you. Take me to your captain or I shall make them come to me. *brandishes her knife and makes a slicing motion across her throat, making the NPC redshirts make worried AHHH-ahh-ah sounds*
Fallan: Do I look like my legs are long enough to keep up with you? I'll sit on your shoulder if it makes you feel better. And you put that away. *He's using the angry dad voice. Except he is a cat, not a dad.* You'll make the ensigns frightened.
Brava: *growls under her breath* It is well that they should be frightened. *begrudgingly puts the knife away, anyway, because this creature is clearly stupid and doesn't know a threat when he sees one* Fine. Perhaps you will disembowel yourself on the spikes. *kneels down so that Fallan can hop on, then glares at the redshirts* YOU ARE DISMISSED!! *they scatter and run like hell, thinking that Fallan is probably a goner*
Fallan: *He readies himself, he wiggles his butt getting ready to jump on....and then jumps on her shoulder. He settles himself somewhat close to her neck to avoid the spikes. He is very fluffy.* There. That's not so hard. Now, the captain's probably asleep, but maybe I'll be able to get you to talk to head of security, or maybe the second... *probably is a goner but at least he's adorable.*
Brava: *is very, very uncomfortable with this arrangement, but as long as it gets her where she needs to go the fastest* I WILL SPEAK WITH THE CAPTAIN.
Fallan: *Sighs.* Computer, where is the captain and is he awake?
Webb: *hanging around in the Ready Room as he is apt to do*
Direct me there, furry thing.
Fallan: I have a name. Fallan-Ra-Gensolli. You'll want to go down this hallway, and then take a right at the first T intersection. That'll lead you to the turbolift at the end of the hall. *Klingons are very warm. He lays on her shoulder and paps his comm badge.* Captain, this is Ensign Fallan-Ra-Gensolli. I hope you're not busy now, because there is a Klingon who would like to speak--/kindly/ *he gives Brava a sharp look* with you.
Webb: *answers, and he doesn't even sound surprised, because what is his life* Do you need a Security escort?
Brava: *under her breath as she makes her way to the turbolift* Hardly.
Fallan: No, we'll be fine. We're on our way to your location. *He removes his paw from the commbadge and curls around her neck. Yasss cuddles* Now, Webb can be difficult to deal with. I understand you feel you shouldn't be here, and chances are very, /very/ good that you're not supposed to be here. Talk of honor and bravado will make things difficult. Choose your words well, and understand that until we know what's going on in this chaotic, silly ship of ours, we might not be able to return you right away, but if you indeed live on Kronos, you will be deposited there. *Probably.*
Webb: *sits back in his chair and waits*

IV.
Brava: Tch. I will get results. *enters the turbolift and they ride it up to the correct deck, probably in very awkward silence**if she could bust these doors open and make a dramatic entrance, she would, but instead she just angrily stomps into the Ready Room as the door swooshes open* /CAPTAIN/ WEBB!! *spits out the first word as if it's a bad taste in her mouth*
Webb: *has his hand on the phaser strapped under his desk* Yes, you have found the right person. Congratulations to you.
Fallan: *Kneads a little bit on her shoulder. Cuddling is good yes.* Keep your voice /down/, you'll wake the dead.
Brava: *ignores Fallan and marches straight up to Webb's desk* I demand an explanation of WHY I have been taken aboard this vessel!
Webb: And of course you shall receive what little explanation we have, if you sit down and stop shouting like a child.
Fallan: *Swats at some of Brava's floofy hair.* What Brava /means/ to say is that she woke up on an unfamiliar ship. The ship computer says she belongs on Kronos. She would like to return to Kronos. However, considering that almost everyone is experiencing either a change in reality or a temporary lapse in memory, it's possible that she does belong here.
Brava: *turns her head to snarl at Fallan* I do not belong here. Obviously!! *looks back at Webb* You will return me to Klingon Empire territory immediately!
Webb: Actually, I will see you calm down and handle this situation without a tantrum or you may spend the remainder of this anomaly in the brig.
Fallan: I've told you, Brava, you won't be able to force your way through this one. Your will may be strong, but the Captain's is as well. It's possible we've flown through an an anomaly and you were teleported here because of that. It's possible that you do belong here and don't remember it. It's possible that you're not even Klingon. *Just like he's not a cat.* Until we figure this out, it may be dangerous to send you back. What if we are in an anomaly, it interferes with the transporters, and you transport into the wall of a ship. *He's just really mad that he's a cat and taking it out on Brava, honestly, but none of what he says is a lie*
Brava: *is tempted to throw Fallan into a wall* Not even Klingon!! *SO INSULTED* How dare you! *growls, then harrumphs and squints at Webb* Is there ANYTHING you can tell me for certain? Or just more nonsense?
Webb: *calmly* I can tell you for certain that the entire ship is experiencing some sort of reality-warping anomaly, what has caused it we are not sure, what we can do to fix it, also yet unknown. You are not the only person affected by this situation, Miss Brava, so I suggest you stop acting like the universe revolves around you.
Fallan: *Bristles and his fur puffs out to make him EXTRA FLOOFY. He remains seated near Brava's neck and cuddled up, he won't speak since he has nothing to say here.*
Brava: *huffs and grumbles, still extremely insulted by this entire situation, but there's not much they can do about it so* Very well. *crosses her arms* I will wait until a solution is presented.
Webb: Thank you. If you promise not to go storming around the ship in a rage, I can offer you a run of the ship, providing you do not carry weapons or threaten anyone needlessly. If you encounter issues with anyone, report them directly to me.
Brava: No weapons? But my knives are important ceremonial items!
Fallan: No one is allowed weapons. If you feel threatened, I'm sure your fists will suffice. *Glances at her muscles. Dayum son.*
Webb: Ensign *cat* Fallan is correct. They will be kept safe.
Brava: *scowls* Fine. *pulls out one, then two... then three... four knives. (where is she hiding these?!?!?!) and drops them with a clang and a clatter onto Webb's desk* I will see that they are returned to me.
Webb: Is that all? *dryly*
Brava: ... *pulls one more dagger out of her boot, and drops it on the pile* ... Yes.
Webb: Pinky promise? *has been hanging out with a ten year old*
Fallan: *knead knead knead, he pauses in his kneading to go wat*
Brava: *curls up her lip in disgust, then turns to leave* That is all!
Webb: If I hear of you making any trouble, do not doubt there will be consequences.
Fallan: *swishes his tail, whispers so he and Brava can hear* Maybe a time-out?
Brava: *gives a snort of laughter at Fallan's joke, then turns back to face Webb when she reaches the door* There will be no trouble at all, /Captain./ *no trouble punching holes in your crew's faces, of course*
Webb: Glad to hear it. *pulls out his PADD and sends a message to everyone in Security (minus Brava) to keep an eye on her whereabouts and actions and stun if any trouble arises*
Fallan: *Goes back to kneading.* Well, that resolved better than I thought it would.
Brava: *leaves the Ready Room and makes her way to... somewhere. mostly she's just walking while she tries to decide what to do next* Hrrmph. Mindless fool.
Webb: *once the door shuts, takes his hand off the phaser and leans forward to inspect Brava's knives* *and then flicks them one by one onto the floor with great satisfaction*
Fallan: Just because he said something you didn't want to hear doesn't make him mindless....May I ask something of you?
Brava: *grumbles* What.
Fallan: ...I have a scratch, right behind my neck, I can't reach it, could you just...pet me a little? *He hates, hates, hates having to ask this.*
Brava: /Pet/ you?
Fallan: Just a scratch. I'd get it myself, but I don't have humanoid arms, alright? *Tail flick*
Brava: *exhales sharply, but reaches up a hand and scratches behind Fallan's neck. her nails are long so it probably feels pretty good*
Fallan: Oh sweet spirits, that feels better. *EXTREME PURRING MODE ACTIVATED. Fallan purrs really loudly and obnoxiously. He continues to knead. He hates that he loves being petted, but he reconciles it with himself by saying 'it's like being cuddled but as a different species'*
Brava: *freezes at the horrible purring sound* What is THAT.
Fallan: *Talks with a purr to his voice* What is what?
Brava: You sound like a TRIBBLE. *says it like a curse word*
Fallan: I do not! Tribbles make squeaking sounds. I am clearly talking! *Insulted.*
Brava: You purr like one. Much lower, but the same. *frowns*
Fallan: *Purring starts dying a little* Am I? I'm purring?! *Here comes the existential crisis*
Brava: Yes. *scratches behind his neck again, then under his chin for good measure*
Fallan: H-hey, that itch is gone now-- *Not fighting too much. But yes, he purrs again, esepcially with the chin rubs. Yaasss chin scritches.* Okay, maybe I am purring. Spirits, help me, I hate being a cat so much.
Brava: Are you not usually a... cat?
Fallan: No. I'm not. I'm an Efrosian. *Slightly more boldened.* I have very clear memories of being an Efrosian. But now I am a cat.
Brava: I see. *this is so confusing wtf* ... So you are also displaced.
Fallan: In a way. Like you, I woke up one morning this way. Turn that way, that'll be your quarters. *Points his paw* It's late and you should sleep. Unless the Klingon race became nocturnal and I was unaware.
Brava: I do not need to sleep. *yawns anyway* But perhaps I shall retire for the night. *stops when they arrive at her door*
Fallan: May I join? I have a hard time opening the doors to my own quarters.... *Lies, just doesn't want to be alone.*
Brava: ..... I... suppose. As long as you do not shed on my quarters' furnishings. *steps inside her quarters, which are the same as they were before, decked out in bright, tropical colors and soft mixed fabrics* Euughgh, revolting. But I will endure it.
Fallan: *Jumps off Brava's shoulder and onto the bed because this looks very soft. He finds the most gaudy blanket he can and becomes cat roll, which is how he'll stay for the night*
Brava: *decides that the floor seems to be much more comfortable to her current tastes, and beds down there for the night, armor and all*