James Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
straightontilmorning) wrote2009-09-22 10:18 pm
straightontilmorning) wrote2009-09-22 10:18 pm
after the dream of falling & calling your name out, these are the roots of rhythm & the roots remain
Jim's learned several nifty things about her PINpoint while she was confined to quarters. One is that yes, she could program in coordinates for transportation, and managed to test it on a few inanimate objects with 100% success rate. She wasn't sure yet if she wanted to use it on herself - she didn't have anything against transporters, unlike Bones, but she wasn't sure she trusted it solely to a device she could hold in the palm of her hand.
Another was that, in addition to sending text communication to other PINpoints, you could send cartoon faces for emphasis of emotions. After an hour of lying on her bed staring at the ceiling ensuing a dream - she refused to consider them nightmares, just slightly troubling constructs of her mind that sometimes wouldn't go away afterwards - after that, she found herself reaching for her PINpoint and selecting an appropriately hopeful, sad, and above all pathetic face to send to Bones with her text.
Pax?
Luckily, it was morning already for Bones' shift, or that might have hurt her case more than helped it.
Another was that, in addition to sending text communication to other PINpoints, you could send cartoon faces for emphasis of emotions. After an hour of lying on her bed staring at the ceiling ensuing a dream - she refused to consider them nightmares, just slightly troubling constructs of her mind that sometimes wouldn't go away afterwards - after that, she found herself reaching for her PINpoint and selecting an appropriately hopeful, sad, and above all pathetic face to send to Bones with her text.
Pax?
Luckily, it was morning already for Bones' shift, or that might have hurt her case more than helped it.
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Locked up forever, Bones. Take pity.
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"I'm trying to work on a programme for you. If you don't like the idea of a mind meld, we should put my psychology knowledge to use and talk through things. There're things going on in your head that need fixing, whether you admit it or not."
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What?
Her coffee cup stopped midway between the table and her lips.
"I didn't work, and I'm fine, Bones."
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"Not unless dinner involves alcohol."
Not pissed off involved bad jokes, apparently.
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"Of course."
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Bones was a sneaky, sneaky man, and she did not appreciate that his slightly blackmail-ish dinner had strings attached.
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She's getting steak.
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After all, dashing his hopes right away would have been mean.
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Soup and a sandwich, then. "You still haven't told me why you want to eat in your quarters, Bones."
She'd had enough of quarters, after all. If she had to pick one, at least there was Bones' for variety, but she preferred the Mess right now.
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Of course, since the gods of irony chose exactly that moment for Dr. Helen Noel to enter in search of breakfast, Jim decided it would be beneficial to change tack.
"Let's go, then."
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Which was possibly why she was plotting a course to the doors that did not cross the doctor's path. Just because she knew they were faked didn't mean the feelings went away.
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