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Topic: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs  (Read 109 times) previous topic - next topic

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Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
[LCdr Blue Tiran | Doors Are Optional for Best Friends | Get Out of the Fucking Way | Why Don't You Have Twinkies Ready for Me | What Do You Mean This is a Surprise]
@Fife

[Cross' Infiltrated Quarters]


Blue Tiran, was a mother fucking genius.

She knew it.  Others knew it.  It was a fucking fact and everyone was slapped in the face with it any time she did something 'normal' for her but truly spectacular for other bitches.  It was just the life of being Blue Tiran.  The mantle she had to carry, the cross to bear, and any other idiom bull shit that suited the situation.  There were things that she could just do, and things that she wasn't afraid to try.  Luckily, at the moment, she was off fucking duty.  Ranaan was off doing his .. First Officer thing and so far she was making it really fucking easy on him because she had yet to be tossed in the fucking Brig and she as pretty sure at this point it was a mother fucking victory and probably a record.  In fact, could Erich Ducote actually know that she was alive he would probably be impressed that she was too fucking busy to end up in trouble, yet.

Blue had changed out of her uniform when she had stopped by her Quarters, shared with the best man in existence, and donned new clothing.  She currently wore a dark blue tshirt that said 'Will Sell Your Soul for Twinkies' and a pair of distressed jeans that had probably seen many uses and Blue was apparently hard on them.  Or maybe they were replicated with all the rips and tears in them, it was hard to tell with Blue Tiran.  Her hair was a mass of curls that bounced happily and frizz free in the nice climate controlled environment.  Pale as ever her dark hair and her blue eyes were the only things that really stood out about her other than the rolling musculature that she had on her arms from the sheer shit she put her body through in work and the gym.

As she stalked through the corridors she was missing the beautiful owl on her shoulder.  He was down doing his own things somewhere on the ship.  She would say he was being a dick because he was really talented at that, and though they fought she stil cared about him quite a lot.  He was still family.  But, she knew that Cross would likely be surprised when she showed up without him but she would have to explain all of the shit that had happened since they had last spoken before they had been given all the jobs and shit that they had.  Then she had gone off ship with Ranaan, and she had done a lot of other shit, and fixing shit, now she was just enjoying the fact that she had enough time to get her ass over to Cross' joint and work on him together. 

She had his hand, literally.

Blue didn't let no fucking door stop her.  She hadn't really told him when she was coming just that she had shit to talk to him about and she would be stopping by after shift.  Again, she hadn't mentioned when shift ended and if he sent messages while she was on shift, she probably had Albert answer them with some sort of shit-tastic reply like [Commander Tiran is unavailable to respond at this time, don't leave a message unless it's really fucking important.]  So if he had tried to contact her it had been to no avail, but she assumed he would be in.  He had better fucking be in because she was here.

She didn't ping the door bell, because that was for fucking losers and she was pretty sure he wasn't doing anything that she couldn't see.  Blue was all about modesty and personal space except when she wasn't and apparently that extended to Cross.  So she just opened his fucking door, of course, though she didn't tell him she had fucking coded it to where she could just walk in.  She was an expert hacker and the biometrics system was ridiculously elementary.  So she just palmed the door and stepped the fuck in.  She looked around. 

"Cross!  Get off the shitter and get your ass in here!" she called out into the large room.  She dropped her bag down on the couch and placed a small box next to it.  Or it wasn't really small but it wasn't large, she had carried it underneath her arm on her way here.  "You didn't even replicate me some twinkies you fucking jerk!" she called out again as she went to the replicator and got herself some food.  She was hungry and since she was going to be working here in a clean-ish environment (who knew what Cross got into when she wasn't there to give him shit) she was going to eat.  So she replicated some tacos, nachos, twinkies, energy drinks, and some chips and queso.  Because apparently she was feeling tex-mex today.  Heading over towards the coffee table she put the food down.  With one hand she popped the top on her energy drink while she shoved a nacho in her mouth with the other waiting for Cross to come out of his dungeon.

She swallowed and called out one more time.  "I have a fucking hand-job for you!" she called out and laughed taking another nacho.
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Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #1
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ
[Show/Hide]Cross sat cross-legged on his bed, his back resting against the bulkhead  and his gaze directed out the viewport. A book sat closed on one knee, the cover of the paperback curled slightly from recent use. Cross had been introduced to hard copy reading by one of the men who had run his rehabilitation, and while this book had come from the replicator and was not an original copy, he enjoyed the experience nonetheless.

Besides, Cross thought to himself as his eyes followed the drifting stars beyond the window, I've been staring at PADDs enough lately with all those fucking work orders, crew updates, supply requisitions and duty rosters.

And so he had found himself turning the pages of Natsume Soseki's Sanshiro. He'd enjoyed the man's uncomplicated writing style, even if he felt a bit lost in regards to the cultural references of the early 20th century Human author. Cross was letting the final line of the Japanese writer's story repeat in his mind as he gazed at the cold vacuum beyond the viewport when he heard a loud disturbance in the next room.

Cross took a deep breath and sighed, recognizing the unmistakable voice of Blue Tiran. The owner of that voice was currently hollering at him through the door, prompting a half-smile to play on the Vulcan's features.

Perhaps disturbance hadn't been the right word.

He could hear movement in the living area, the sounds of the replicator being used, followed by a series of loud clattering noises as numerous dishes were deposited on his table. Cross imagined what he would find on the table as he finally rose form the bed, the picture in his mind forming into a plate piled high with twinkies, a large bowl filled almost to overflowing with pure granulated sugar with a spoon sticking out of it, and probably some sort of greasy mass with pieces of meat floating in it, all of which could quite possibly be garnished with gummy bears or one of the other "confections" that Blue seemed hell-bent on killing herself with. Commander Ducote's request to try and get Blue to eat vegetables, preferably ones that hadn't been deep fried, came to mind. Cross knew it was a lost cause before he even stepped into the room.

It never occurred to Cross to ask exactly how Blue had gotten into his quarters. The Vulcan had simply accepted that Blue Tiran, bane of the Endeavour and possibly the first officer in the fleet's history to have their own designated warning alert, was hardly the type to let a mere door stand in her way. She had sent him a message earlier that day to tell him there was something she wished to speak with him about, though she had not specified a time. Cross had more or less expected her to come barging in at some point, and here she was.

No, disturbance wasn't an adequate term to describe what he expected to find beyond those doors. Perhaps hurricane would be a more apt description...

As the doors which divided the parts of his quarters hissed open, Cross found Blue seated at the table with her back to him. The view of the table beyond was both impressive and horrifying, the surface having been piled with twinkies, various food dishes, cans of something that Cross' nose found to smell vaguely like harsh chemicals, and an assortment of chips. He could hear crunching coming from Blue, and was about to comment on the fact that he was sure Commander Ducote fed her on at least a daily basis when she spoke again, calling out in a manner which told him she hadn't heard the doors over her own noisy munching.

"I have a fucking hand-job for you!"

He heard her laugh and saw her reach for another nacho, but for his part Cross simply stood silently in place. His hand still held his book, though his eyes were wide and his mouth hanging open, the previous jibe having died before it could be uttered.

What in the hell was happening?

Was she messing with him?

Had she somehow heard about the... no. No, that couldn't be it.

Finally recovering from the initial shock of her choice of words, Cross glanced about the room. He saw that her mess was not contained to the table, her bag having been deposited on the couch. Beside the bag was a small box, the sight of which caused something to click in his mind.

Hand-job.

Hand.

His hand.

A wave of immense relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing and his heart resuming its usual rhythm as the truth dawned on him. Having calmed himself, he now found his reaction to be rather amusing as he stepped into Blue's visual range. He regarded her with one raised eyebrow for a long moment, then looked down at her hand.

"Not with your hands covered in all that <fucking> grease you don't..." Cross said, giving Blue a cheeky glance as he dropped his book onto the table and selected a nacho that was free from meat, popping the morsel into his mouth as he took the other seat.
Lt. Cmdr. Cross     [Show/Hide]Ensign Isel "Foxfire" Nix     [Show/Hide]PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc      [Show/Hide]

Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #2
[LCdr Blue Tiran | More Than Meets the Eye | Don't Worry, I'm a Professional | Snacks Before Work]
@Fife




The crunch of the chips was too loud in her ears to hear the wooshing of his bedroom door opening and closing and the robed man stepping out.  But, Blue also felt very safe and secure around Cross and she felt like this was one of three places where she could let her hair down.  One being the Quarters that she and Ducote shared together, Two being Cross' place, and Three being Hathev's office, even if she was in a meeting with another officer and a snack-attack hit.  Since this was number two, because Cross was more like a member of her family than the one she wanted to get into close quarters in a maintenance alcove for some fun time.  Blue reached down and grabbed another nacho waiting for the man of the hour to arrive.  She was hungry and while Sickbay said they could probably fix her metabolism and bring it round to something more on the normal scale she had made them eat shit.. or rather just told them to get bent.  The second they fucked with this miraculous thing that basically made her a human garbage can, she would balloon up and she wasn't going to lose her snacks.  So she stuck with what she had been given naturally.

Finally, he arrived, speaking about how she didn't have the job if her hands were covered in all that fucking grease.   Blue looked over her shoulder and those lovely eyes of hers gave him a beautiful grin.  "It's lubrication, my de- what the fuck happened to your face?!  Your ridges are back."

There was one thing Blue didn't like, it was change.

Okay, that was a mother fucking lie, she hated a lot of things but one of the top ones was the fact that change just pissed her off.  Cross was met without ridges, well.. no they got close with no ridges, and he was supposed to keep the fucking ridges gone.  He didn't even talk to her about making these fucking changes before he went and fucked up nose.  He should have at least had the decency to ask the person that was very much fucking used to how his face was before.  Of course, this was probably normal for him, but she didn't remember really knowing him when he had smooth noses. 

And then, just to fuck with him.  "Do I have to put the fucking ridges on your hand too?" she asked incredulously.

The look that passed his face, the shock was perfect, and then her own grin ruined it all and he realized that she was just shitting him the way that she often did.  She turned around, seized a taco from the table in front of her and bit in.  Taco juices running down her chin and caught by a quick napkin ninja move before they could get too far.  She spared her uniform the torture for the day as she caught it and continued to eat.

"Don't just stand there like this isn't your joint.  Sit in the fucking chair Cross.  Fuckin' ridged mother fucker." she mumbled that last part but she knew it was loud enough he likely heard it anyway.

Finally, when he sat down, Blue wiped her hands and put her half eaten taco on the table.  There was a slight puddle of perfect taco juices leaking out of the taco and making a very small puddle right in front of the taco where her mouth bites had been already removed from the hardened shell.  She was planning to get back to it in a moment.  But for now, the work.

She got up and crossed over to him.  Sliding some of the food over so that the plates clinked with one another, bowls got lifted up and balanced all wibbly wobbly on top of the rims of plates and the plate of twinkies hung precariously just over the edge, in a careful see saw as if wondering if it gravity would have it's way or not.  Blue didn't pay any attention to all of that, she parked her small backside in the cleared of spot right in front of where Cross decided to sit. 

"Hand."

She held hers out for his, and waited.  "Obviously, that's your hand." he stated. 

Blue rolled her eyes.  "Your hand you mother fucker."

Cross smirked proving he was just playing around with her and held out the shit Starfleet had given him in the interim.  She took the hand and looked it over.  "This is the most basic piece of shit I have ever seen in my life." she whistled as she turned the hand back and forth looking at how it chaffed just slightly at his skin.  How it didn't have the articulation that he would no doubt miss from his original hand.  "How much shit have you broken with this thing?  It's not even fucking calibrated properly, I can tell, because when you move your fingers they aren't fucking moving right.  How old is this fucking thing?  Did they gave you the clearance model?"
  • Last Edit: August 04, 2019, 03:32:40 PM by BZ
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Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #3
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ
[Show/Hide]Blue had given him a sweet smile as she began to respond to his greasy hands comment, the Human smiling sweetly at him. That didn't last long, however, as she turned and saw his face. Cross chuckled at her sudden outburst, the shocked statement cutting off whatever retort she had been preparing to counter his own jibe. Cross selected another meat-free nacho and popped it into his mouth, munching loudly on it as he gave Tiran a grin. His expression changed to one of shocked horror when she asked if she needed to put ridges on the hand as well, the sudden reaction quickly turning into a choking noise as the nacho became lodged in his throat. A quick thump of his chest with his fist dislodged the food, likely aided by the greasy residue from the melted cheese, and Cross gasped slightly. Blue grinned then, and Cross realized she had been having him on. A sense of relief washed over him, likely from the combination of the realization that Blue had been joking, coupled with the return of air flow to his lungs following the momentary interruption.

Cross chuckled at Blue as she turned and seized a taco from one of the plates on the table, shaking his head as she skillfully caught the juices running down her chin with a napkin. He flopped down into a chair as she ordered him to sit, calling him a fuckin' ridged mother fucker and prompting another grin from the Vulcan, this time thankfully without the accompanying choking. He grabbed another nacho as Blue put down her taco, ignoring the puddle of juices that seeped form the taco onto his table. The nacho pulled several others with it as it came away, and Cross used his prosthetic to flick a piece of beef from the mass of cheese-laden goodness as Blue rose and began clearing a space on the table in which to work.. He had been avoiding using his left hand since getting the prosthetic, finding it more of a nuisance that a help. Either he misjudged the force he put into the flick, or perhaps his increased strength following his correction made the prosthetic amplify the motion, but rather than simply brushing the piece of beef off the nacho and onto the plate, he instead sent it rocketing across the table, the morsel of cooked meat ending up stuck to the wall. Cross sighed, adding it to the mental list of problems he'd had with the artificial hand, and stuffed the mass of nachos into his mouth.

Cross looked up at Blue with a startled expression as she parked herself in front of him, seated on the table, and held her hand out.

"Hand"

"Obviously that's your hand." Cross replied, the words slightly muffled through the mouthful of chips, cheese and assorted toppings. He grinned and swallowed the mouthful as Blue rolled her eyes at him, then held up the prosthetic for her inspection. Blue's reaction told him that the inspection was not to her satisfaction. She'd taken hold of his hand, turning it this way and that as she looked it over, declaring it a piece of shit in the process.

"No argument there..." Cross muttered as she continued to look at the artificial appendage. Blue's disapproval continued to make itself know in the form of a steady flow of disapproving remarks peppered with the usual curses that made the engineer so endearing. As she asked Cross how much shit he had broken with it, he grinned up at her with a mischievous expression.

"The kill count so far is, I think; seven glasses, the screens of two PADDs, an LCARS display, my meditation lamp, and the control panel for the sonic shower." Cross' grin spread, his eyes gleaming with amusement at Blue's expression, with a slightly mixture of guilt at having had to call Ops several times to repair all the damage he had done. "I think Ops is starting to think I'm a nuisance."

Cross flexed the fingers, the movement looking unnatural compared to his organic hand, then grinned and looked up at Blue as he continued to flex the digits, curling them all in save for the middle finger. "I can still do this though!" His shit-eating grin only spread further across his features as Blue slapped at his arm, earning a chuckle form him as he straightened the fingers once more.

"To be honest, I just haven't been using the hand. I don't trust it for anything that might end up in me breaking things." Cross admitted, shaking his head slightly as he regarded the nuisance appendage. "It's been a hajari pain in my ass." He looked up at Blue, his eyes giving her a mock pleading expression. "Help me, Blue Tiran! You're my only hope!" The pleading look fell away, his pale blue eyes taking on a look of amusement, which promptly turned to annoyance as his gaze returned to the hand. "Honestly, I've given serious consideration to just putting the hajari thing out a hajari airlock."

While the thought was amusing, he was dead serious. He had ended up standing and staring at the airlock for upwards of ten minutes on one occasion, his organic hand gripping the wrist of the prosthetic as he debated the pros and cons of spacing the hand. Ultimately, he had decided against sending the damned thing into the vacuum, though it had been a narrow escape for the prosthetic.

"I probably would have done it, but I didn't want to have to explain how I lost it." Cross informed her with a grin, though the grin faded as he added, "Also, I wasn't about to set foot in sickbay again. Not after..." Cross caught himself, his face colouring as his eyes darting up to meet Blue's for a brief second before looking elsewhere, settling on the piece of beef which still clung to the wall. "uh... never mind..."


Kardasi Translation:
Hajari - Fucking
  • Last Edit: August 06, 2019, 10:14:28 PM by Fife
Lt. Cmdr. Cross     [Show/Hide]Ensign Isel "Foxfire" Nix     [Show/Hide]PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc      [Show/Hide]

Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #4
[LCdr Blue Tiran | Starfleet Generic Shit | This is Why I'm a Fucking Badass | Don't Tell Everyone; Everyone Will Want One | Tiran Special]
@Fife




Blue watched as Cross choked on his chips with her stellar wit and then picked up another nacho.  She liked being around Cross.  He was comfortable like a brother, and there was something really nice about it.  She had never really looked for someone to, not replace, but kind of walk along side the shoes that were set out for Arthur.  Her brother had been a very poignant person in her life, the kind of person that she still remembered, loved, and probably held in the kind of light that was unfair and untrue.  But, he was a glorified hero in her mind.  Young Blue had been accepted by him, nurtured by him, and his loss had torn her world a part.  One might think she should have hated him, but no, she had turned instead into missing his warmth, his acceptance, and the way that he always told her to go after her dreams.  He had left her, and now, she found that Cross was there for her.  Not in the same way that Arthur had been, a completely different and yet somehow similar way.  It was comfortable.

Cross sat down and picked up another nacho, this one was attached to something with meat.  And he used his prosthetic hand to flick the meat off.  It was likely supposed to hit the table or the plate of nachos where she would consume it without thinking twice about it, but instead he flicked it so hard it shot across the room and impacted the wall quite a distance away.

"Well that answers that question."

He began to list the amount of shit he had broken with this fucking piece of trash and her brow rose.  "Well.. first... meditation lamp... fucking.. what?   And, is that shit still broken?" she asked him curiously since she could actually fix the control panel in his shower without much of a hardship while she was here.  She looked down at the thing and tsk'd shaking her head.  "You know, I think this shit needs to be airlocked.  No one should have to suffer with this shit." she sighed as she brushed her hair off of her face and shook her head one more time.  He pulled his hand out of her own and told her he could still do this, and flicked her off.  A grin spread across her face.

"Asshole."

He confessed he had been trying not to use the hand since it's been breaking shit and it's been a fucking pain in his ass.  She grinned, the UT quickly translating whatever the fuck ass backwards language he was spewing from his mouth hole today.  Then he told her he was her only hope and she grinned.  "You bet your ass I am."

She twisted and grabbed the black box off the couch and put it in her lap.  She opened the lid to it, and there in the very dark blue velvet lay a very beautiful hand.  It was sleek, and it was a gunmetal color instead of the synthetic skin tone he had been working with that didn't quite match.  She could replicate an overlay for it if he wanted one, but he probably wouldn't once he realized just what the hell this thing could do.  The fingers were slender, and had enough joints to make them more easily managed and tactile.  He told her that he probably would have airlocked it himself except he didn't want to have to go to sickbay after... then he changed subject.

Blue's grin told him, far before her words did.  "You know that shit don't fly.  Spill.  Or I'll hold your hand hostage and leave you with that plastic piece of shit." she nodded to the one he still wore.  Leaning forward she began to take the old hand off, carefully, since he had a couple of raw spots.  But, the new hand, which was specifically created with his stump in mind would be much more comfortable.  She pulled off the old hand, and unceremoniously tossed it over her shoulder where it bounced against the edge of the table and hit the floor with a dull thud.  She'd return it to him later.  Carefully, she removed the standard stump-sock because she couldn't think of what else to call it, and she tossed it over towards the couch before she pulled out her own.  It was very close to his skin tone, she had replicated so many fucking ones trying to get it close enough, and finally had gotten one she felt comfortable with using. 

Blue was a perfectionist.

With adept fingers she quickly slid it onto his stump to make sure it was protected, the fabric was thicker too which would help heal the chaffing of the old one.  Then she picked up the hand from the box and set the box to the side.  Pulling his stump into her lap she carefully slid the new hand into position.  It was heavier than the other one, though light considering what it could do, though he didn't know that yet.  He would get there though, and she hoped, be as excited about this shit as she was.  She clasped it onto his wrist, holding it loosely there as it wasn't fitted yet.  He would realize that it wasn't, she knew, but he would in a moment when she reached into a small compartment underneath one of the gunmetal plating pieces and pressed an internal button.  The hum of the device firing up could be heard and slowly it constricted to the proper side of his stump, and like a blood pressure cuff, it would release and tighten several times before finding the perfect pressure and setting for Cross.  She released the button and the hand stayed in place.

"This is really fucking advanced, it has sensors built all over it's interior, so that the nerve endings that you still have in your hand, the muscle movements, will equal the hand and wrist movements here.  It'll take some getting used to, of course, because you're used to that paper weight back there.  But, this is the Blue Tiran Badass Version.  She shrugged as if it was nothing but she had almost non-stop worked on this in her free time since she had gotten off the Versant.

"I made this shit to respond as close to your life like hand as possible, though I added some other shit to it too, lets first work on the basics." she said as she moved out of the way and motioned to the plethora of food at his grasp.  "So test it out while you tell me this delicious Sickbay story." she stated as she picked up the discarded taco from earlier and began to eat.
Zyrao:
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Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #5
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ
[Show/Hide]Cross smiled ruefully up at Blue as she expressed surprise, peppered with her customary colourful additives of course, at the fact that he had a meditation lamp, going on to ask if all the shit he'd damaged was still broken.

"The systems have been fixed, though I'm sure Ops is dreading my next call for them to fix something." Cross chuckled, remembering the exasperated expression on Chief Song's face when he had come by Cross' quarters for the second time. "As for the lamp, yes. I have a meditation lamp." Cross fixed Blue with an amused gaze. "I may not be a pointy eared bastard with the personality of a mop, but I'm still a pointy eared bastard. I do meditate." Cross' grin became sarcastic as he continued. "It helps me keep my charming personality in check."

Cross had watched as Blue went to the couch and retrieved the box which sat there. As she returned and opened the box, Cross saw that it contained the hand she had been working on. It was sleek, looking much more dextrous and natural than his current prosthetic. It was a gunmetal colour, which Cross found he rather liked. It was perfect.

It was then that Blue caught his slip up, the mistaken reference to the occurrence six day previous. As she grinned at him in a manner that could only be described as a mixture of eagerness, delight and mischief, Cross knew he was in trouble. As she told him that his sudden dismissal of the topic wouldn't fly with her, and that if he didn't elaborate then he'd be stuck with his current piece of shit hand, he knew he was fucked. Blue wasn't the sort who would let something like that go.

Cross sighed as Blue leaned forward and removed his current prosthetic, the placed where flesh met metal showing obvious signs of irritation as the hand came away. Cross rubbed the sore spots as Blue casually tossed his prosthetic across the room, discarding it like the trash it was. As Blue removed the sheath which covered his stump when the prosthetic was worn, then pulled out a newer one which matched the skin tone of his arm perfectly, Cross wondered just what lengths Blue had gone to in the creation of this new prosthetic.

Cross watched in silence as Blue removed the gunmetal hand from it's container and pulled his stump into her lap. Not for the first time, Cross found himself reflecting on the oddity that was his friendship with Blue Tiran. As she maneuvered the prosthetic she had built into position on his arm, her couldn't help but feel odd. In any other circumstances, having a woman perched on the table in front of him with his arm resting in her lap would cause Cross to blush furiously as he was flooded with embarrassment. That simply wasn't the case with Blue. While they had been somewhat at odds during their time in the escape pod, with Tiran snapping at everyone as she tinkered with the pod's systems, as well as having freshly broken Cross' nose, things had changed at some point. Cross wasn't sure if it was when she ahd fallena sleep on his in the maintenance bay, or again in the office on the Versant's bridge, or perhaps when he had lost the limb she was now working to replace, but at some point he had simply grown to trust Blue. He felt at ease around the foul mouthed engineer, without the need to guard himself or watch what he said. Cross had never had a family, though he now wondered if this was similar to what it felt like.

Cross' eyes widened as Blue did something to the hand, which was currently fitting loosely over his stump, at which point the device hummed into life. As Cross watched, the portion of the prosthetic that fit into place over his stump slowly constricted, releasing the pressure and then constricting again as though trying to feel him out. After a moment the device closed in for the last time, settling itself onto his arm securely, yet infinitely more comfortable that the other artificial hand. Cross stared at the new gunmetal limb as Blue explained the more advanced prosthetic would more accurately receive the nerve impulses form his arm, making the responses much closer to those of his organic hand than was possible with his temporary piece of junk.

Blue motioned to the table full of food, telling him to test it out as he told her his sickbay story.

Fuck...

He supposed it was too much to believe that the topic would have slipped her mind, though he had still held on to that forlorn hope. The fact that Blue described it as his "delicious Sickbay story" told his there was no hope that she would drop it. Cross decided he would buy himself some time, reaching out at selecting a nacho. He was surprised when the nacho wasn't crushed by the Blue Tiran Badass prosthetic, but rather was pinched lightly between the finger and thumb. Where the other prosthetic would have obliterated the corn ship in it's crushing grip, this new hand managed to lift the chip to his mouth with ease, where Cross promptly stuffed it into his face and reached for another, repeating the face stuffing to prevent the opportunity to tell his story. He knew he was doomed. He was well aware that Blue Tiran would pry the story out him one way or the other, but that didn't mean he couldn't delay the inevitable shame of telling her the tale for as long as possible.

As he munched on the overstuffed mouthful, he directed a comical, wide-eyed gaze at Blue and gave her a shrug.

Sorry, can't talk. Chewing.

In preparation for further delay, Cross reached out and selected some chips, dipping them deep in the queso before working on stuffing them in his mouth as well, once again managing to grab, lift, dip, and eat the chips without crushing them. He was astounded by the differences in dexterity and ease of use of the two hands.

"You can't stall forever, asshole!" Blue chuckled as she reached out and rapped him lightly on the top of the head with her knuckles, his shoulder out of reach of her usual swat. "Fucking spill!"
Cross grinned up at the woman with the blue streak in her hair, making an overly exaggerated chewing motion with his jaw and he lifted the gunmetal prosthetic and gracefully displayed the middle finger for her inspection, earning himself another rap on the head. Cross finally swallowed the mouthful of chips and chuckled, shaking his head.

"Fine. But first, I want your word." Cross grumbled, giving Blue a theatrically overdone glare as he spoke. "You can't speak a word of it. Ever. To anyone." Cross' eyes narrowed as he peered up at Blue, as though eh was suspicious that she would spread the tale. Or perhaps make a ship wide announcement of it. Blue Tiran was hardly known for her subtlety...

"The first day we were aboard, after Kai and I took the bridge officer's test and received our promotions, I had an appointment in sickbay to have my physical appearance restored to it's previous state. I wanted to be able to recognize myself fin the mirror again." Cross leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "The procedure was performed by the Savi android we brought over from the Versant, V-Nine." A green tinge began to rise in Cross' cheeks, faint yet still visible. "She restored my Bajoran ridges... but... well..." Cross did not want to be explaining this to her. Or anyone, for that matter. "Bajorans... they uh... they don't just have ridges on their noses..." Cross rolled his pale blue eyes upwards, looking at Blue with an almost pleading expression.

Please tell me you understand. Please don't make me explain this...

"if you know what I mean..."
Lt. Cmdr. Cross     [Show/Hide]Ensign Isel "Foxfire" Nix     [Show/Hide]PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc      [Show/Hide]

Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #6
[LCdr Blue Tiran | Nacho Hand | Stuffing Your Face Does Not Let You Off the Hook | I'll Put My Fist in Your Face | Fess Up!]
@Fife




Blue watched avidly, not only because she wanted to hear his story but also because she wanted to make sure that all the adjustments she had made on the hand had been correct.  She had never actually built a fucking hand before, and though it had taken a shit ton of research, replicating the Fleet's version, taking that fucking piece of shit apart and making it a million times better, she was still not certain it was perfect.  So, she watched while he leaned forward and clasped the chip in between his thumb and forefinger and brought it up to his mouth without crushing it.  She picked up her PADD and began to pen herself some notes.  Proper pressure protocol, dexterity on point, non slip pads on tips of fingers in perfect locations. 

She tapped her foot, waiting for her story.

Cross grabbed more chips, before the nacho was even swallowed, dipped them in the melted liquid gold of melted cheese and shoved them into his mouth.  He made that 'I'm eating' gesture to her, and she rolled her eyes and waited even longer.  Blue had many things; anger, rage, short attention span, and genius.  What she didn't have an abundance of was patience.  Finally, she'd had all the chip crunching and 'yay this hand doesn't break everything known to fucking man' about this moment and jumped.

"You can't stall forever, asshole!" she shot over at him,  Watching the shit eating grin take over his face.  "Fucking spill!"  She kicked at his chair so that she didn't hit him but to make her point abundantly clear.  He flicked her off with the gun metal beauty on his hand.  "I just want to point out the fact that I have programmed a wealth of shit into that fucking hand and I can make it announce every time you flick someone off, so I'd tread lightly with your personal hand mechanic."

He finally said he would tell her but first he wanted her word that she wouldn't tell anyone.  Blue rolled her eyes and was pretty sure it was hard enough that Ranaan, where ever he was being all First Officer-y, could feel it from where she sat.  Shaking her head.  "Yeah yeah promises and whatever rainbow shit you want just fucking get on with it already it's not like I've got a bunch of fuckers lining up to hear the gossip from the latest newly ridged mother fucker."

The story started off with the rising sun, a song in a language she didn't know, and some shit about needing to see his own fucking face in the mirror.  Blue was unimpressed as she leaned back into the couch letting him enjoy the beauty of her creation before she took it back for fine tuning.  Of course she hadn't told him that.  Still, she listened and waited as he admitted that he had to go get his face fucked up again, and that there wasn't just ridges on his face but also elsewhere.

If she knew what he meant.

"Hold.  On."  Blue held up a hand in his direction looking right at him as his face literally pleaded for her not to travel down this road.  Unfortunately, she didn't give a shit.  Blue had no filter when it came to someone that she trusted openly like she did Cross, and besides, she hardly had a filter any other time.  "You're telling me that you went to get the ridges back on your face, and you also had to get ridges put on your pecker?" she asked full out.

When he blushed, and nodded, she grinned.  "What the Fuck, okay, so I have questions.  One.  How was it having a android handle the pecker, and did it hurt to put the ridges back?  What happened between you and the beautiful V if you are so fucking embarrassed... wait... you fucked her didn't you!?  Did you fuck V when she was bajorifying your cock?  Oh!  I wonder if she could add ridges to someone that wasn't Bajoran...."

Blue tapped her finger on her chin in through for a moment a delighted grin on her face.  "you better fucking tell me the rest of the story because the shit my imagination can come up with will have you doing all sorts of nasty shit with V."
Zyrao:
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Eun Sae Ji
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Blue Tiran:
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Zephyr:
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  • Fife
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  • Awards: Awarded for participation in Part 1 of Episode 05: Courage is Fear. Awarded for participation in Part 2 of Episode 05: Courage is Fear.
Re: Day 07 [1200]: Vulcan Hand Jobs
Reply #7
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @BZ
[Show/Hide]"Hold.  On."

As Blue held up her hand, her gaze focusing on him as she started in with a line of questioning that Cross had been hoping and praying would never come. He felt his face take on a furious green glow as Blue deduced that he had had the ridges restored to his... pecker... in addition to the ones on his face, her tone of voice incredulous but carrying the unmistakable notes of amusement. As she stared at him, her question was confirmed by way of the flush of his cheeks intensifying. She grinned then, and any hope Cross had that the topic would be dropped, or that he would at least be let off easy, died the moment his pale eyes beheld that grin, which seemed to him to hold an almost sadistic delight.

Why do I open my fucking mouth... Cross asked himself, finding the question somewhat ironic, given that his failure to speak up had resulted in the initial circumstances which Blue Tiran was presently delighting in. He considered trying to bribe her into silence with one of those putrid yellow cakes she loved so dearly, though that hope crumbled away as she spoke again, stating that she had questions.

As Blue began with a cascade of questions, ranging from "did it hurt?" to "did you fuck V?" to what he could only assume was a rhetorical question about giving someone who was not Bajoran the same ridges. That last one prompted Cross to raise an eyebrow at the Human, his own shit-eating grin spreading across his face despite the raging embarrassment that threatened to crush him from within. "Are you asking for our friend Commander Ducote? Or is there something I don't know about you?"

Cross sighed in defeat as Blue warned him that he'd better tell her the story, lest her overactive, and apparently perverted, imagination start to give her ideas. Apparently she'd have him doing all sorts of freaky shit with V-Nine in her mind.

"Look, I didn't fuck the android, ok?" Cross finally said, opting to use the Standard word which Blue had used rather than his customary one. "Apparently I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to." Cross' eyes narrowed at Blue. "Which I didn't!" The words were firm, brokering no argument. "Though she seemed to either think I did, or else I don't know what was going through her hajari head."

Cross sighed, wanting to be talking about anything else other than the Sickbay debacle, but despite that he trusted Blue Tiran. If he had to tell someone, he supposed it was good that it was her.

Minus the laughing he would doubtless endure throughout the telling. And likely for days to come.

If not weeks...

"{i]Haja[/i], ok. Everything was fine when she was restoring the ridges on my face and getting rid of the hajari Vulcan eyebrows." Cross began, his face scowling as the memory of the Vulcan appearance the Savi had given him. Bulbous-headed little fucks. "We were discussing the fact that she had the same upgrade your [ihajari[/i] tin pigeon got, and that she was sentient or sapient or some hajari thing." Cross wasn't all that certain of the differences between the two, nor did he particularly care. "Anyway, then I wasn't sure what to call the android. I mean, it's a hajari android! So I asked, and V-Nine said she was female, and couldn't I recognize the sound of her voice and the curves of her hajari chassis as female?" Cross scowled again, reaching out and plucking another few chips, dredging them through the cheesy queso and stuffing them in his mouth. Even his chewing looked angry and uncomfortable.

"So, she finished restoring the appearance of my face," Cross continued, speaking through a mouthful of nachos, "and then she moved on to my... what was the word you used? Pecker?" Cross chuckled, the word sounding silly to him. "Haja, what are you, twelve?"

"Anyway, then she moved on to my... you know." Cross cleared his throat, swallowing the mouthful of nachos. He rose from his seat and made for the replicator, getting himself a coffee. He glanced at Blue, then the table full of food, crumbs and energy drink cans, and decided she didn't need anything else. If she wanted anything, she would likely help herself, just as she had when she'd initially invaded his quarters. He sipped the coffee, sighing appreciatively, then continued with his narrative as he made his way over to join Blue on the couch. "The ridges didn't hurt. It was more of an... itching feeling." Cross explained, a slight shiver running up his spine at the memory.

"So, uh, yeah. She started wording on my... uh... dick. Or she was going to. She told me she didn't have a lot of experience with it, whatever the hell that meant, and when she tried to position... uh... it for the procedure, well... it... you know... just sort of flopped wherever it wanted."

Throughout the telling of the story so far, Cross had once again found himself wishing the Savi had simply recycled him. How did he keep ending up in these fucking situations?

"So then she, you know, grabs me, and her haraji hands were cold, and she starts stammering that's she's embarrassed! Meanwhile, I'm the one with the female android's hands on my hajari junk!" Cross wasn't sure when he had blushed so much. The amount of green blood currently tinting his face rivalled that on the occasion which he was speaking. Unfortunately, as with the experience itself, he didn't drop dead of embarrassment, and so he pressed on.

"So then she starts working on the ridges, you know, down there, and between her hand, and the weird feeling of the procedure and everything, well... I..." Cross took a deep breath, steeling himself for the merciless teasing he was sure would follow. "I may have had a... uh... physical... reaction..." Cross knew that Tiran wasn't about to let him off easy, and would likely make him tell the whole story, but he took a long sip of his coffee to buy himself time to brace himself for what was to come.

"After I... uh... became... hard... well..." Cross put the cup down on his coffee table, his gaze fixed on the coffee for a moment before he directed a sheepish look at Blue. "Well, things sort of went... downhill... form there..."


Kardasi Translations:
Hajari - Fucking
Haja - Fuck
Lt. Cmdr. Cross     [Show/Hide]Ensign Isel "Foxfire" Nix     [Show/Hide]PO1 Scruffy LeBlanc      [Show/Hide]