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Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 3 : The Meeting of Heroes (or Villains) [ Day 1 | 1500+]
Last post by P.C. Haring -It had taken a bit longer than she had planned to get ready, and the short notice between the time on her patrol route and the time she had been given before the event was to start was not helping. Truthfully she did not think she was expected a 20:00 on the dot, but even so as one of the senior officers aboard she did not feel right being excessively late.
In the end she had opted for her liquid silver halter. She had the replicator alter it a little, first to give her a little more freedom to sit comfortable, and second to reduce the length of the cape style train so instead of dragging on the deck, it ended at floor length. If she had more time, she might have returned her hair to her natural jet black, but she found a way to tease it so the existing highlights weren’t overpowering. That they had faded a bit since she put them in, didn’t hurt either.
She resisted the urge to run as that would have been undignified and for her to trip in the heels and fall while wearing that dress would be embarrassing as all hell.
Brushing a stray lock of hair behind her right ear, the doors parted almost silently as she entered the mess. It had been very quickly and very elegantly transformed to the point where if she hadn’t known the function of the room even two hours ago, she would have sworn it was dedicated to diplomatic gatherings. Commander Stark was just finishing her remarks. The Klingons raised their glasses, the Romulans seemed unimpressed, and the Starfleet crew offered a polite applause as they started to break up and attempt to mingle.
For her part, Reggie made a point to exude a welcoming warmth, not only in her demeanor, but also she pushed a gentle hint of it out telepathically in the hopes that it might help to ease the tension under the surface. Offering a polite nod to first a Romulan delegate, and then a few steps later she offered a bit more aggressive nod to a passing Klingon before she plucked a glass of champaign off the tray of a passing server.
“Reggie!”
She turned sharply at the sound of her name, the cape and the skirt of her dress fanning out ever so briefly as if she had intentionally been twirling. She locked eyes on Khalil who had been talking up an uncharacteristically outgoing Romulan.
Seeing her cue she approached the pair, introduced herself to the young woman, L’Rel, a Romulan pilot and offered her own perspective on the debate as to the proper ratio of impulse to RCS thrust in high-G maneuvering.