Marcus sipped his wine, while Susan talked. He didn't usually drink wine; not because of an intolerance, but more because the Minbari didn't. There were some ideals, like courtesy, that were too deeply ingrained on his psyche.
However, it took a great deal of willpower not to splutter when Susan mentioned marriage. "No..." he started to say, but she cut him off.
He stared, as she continued, not in a rude way, but he was transfixed by her voice, her attitude and well... her honesty.
It wasn't something he'd expected to see, not so early on in their relationship.
When she thanked him, he ducked his eyes, somewhat abashed by the simple words.
As he spoke, the words came quietly, bearly audible above the snapping and hissing of the fire to their side.
"I came back because I made a promise." he admitted, but he'd been GLAD to come back, so he raised his eyes again now, hoping she'd see that in the cerulean depths.
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now" he smiled a little sheepishly, knowing that John would slap him upside the head (or TRY to) for sounding like a sap.
He took a deep breath and sipped the wine once more, the scent of the fresh fish and citrus and herby salad filling his senses.
"It wasn't a proposal, Susan, just an acknowledgement that I'd... be honoured if you'd let me do small things, to make you happy. Seeing you smile, your eyes lighting up that makes me happy. I don't know how else to phrase it, really."
He shrugged a little, giving up any pretense at masks and secrets. "I want to be WITH you, no matter what. But I want it to be on your terms."
Too much truth, too much honesty-- the wearing of hearts on a sleeve wasn't something easy done by the displaced commander. She'd made a career of being hard and calculating; never allowing anyone to point to her and say she was anything but an excellent officer in that she never let emotion rule her decisions. Wouldn't do for anyone to think that her tactical ability was marred by 'her female side'.
For the first six months of her being acquainted with the Ranger seated opposite her, it had been just that, in her mind, that he was asking for. A chance to relax, let down her Russian reserve, and just... take a breath. At the time, even up to the moment of the station's last stand, there was no time, no chance, not to mention she really didn't want to. Susan couldn't trust that this time, it would be different.
Now?
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now"
Susan looked down at her food and shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. That was a little more along the lines of what she'd expected, rather than the descriptions of ecstacy felt at marriage proposals. Technically, it'd meant the same, but it was a great deal more... personal, and palatable. It addressed her biggest fear, and she had a feeling he knew, her single dream.
She took a deep breath, and finally looked back up, looking him in the eye. She could tell that he meant it, as far as he was in control to make that promise. Susan pressed her lips together in an attempt to smile once more, offered, "Yes, well..." This was an evening of being completely... stumped. She'd been outmaneuvered, and yes... in a way, this could be likened to a skirmish within a campaign, and even she realized it.
"I don't know what my terms are, Marcus." How's that for honesty again? "I'm not some shrinking violet, though, that'll fade without you in the room. I'm not some simpering waif that can't survive until the next time I see you." Though she had admitted that she had missed him in his absence. "But... this is nice." At least there's some encouragement, right? "But please don't promise something you can't deliver." It was almost a plead. Almost. "I can't promise it either. I couldn't promise it a week ago, and I can't now... though now is a little easier than then." But the fact that she had considered it made it more of a tacit promise than spoken.
Susan shifted in her seat once more and noticed that she still held her wine in hand, and that she hadn't yet had any. She glanced back to Marcus and straightened, the glass in hand. She lifted it slightly in the air and cleared her voice softly,
"Dinner, tonight... and the two of us actually sitting down and not bickering is cause for noting the occasion. It's been a long time since I could actually relax without having to wonder if my 'link was going to go off, calling me back to duty, or waking me up in the middle of the night with a report from Alpha Squadron. Granted, you haven't told me anything about what you've seen so far since you were gone today, and all that could easily go out the window, but for the moment... it's us. You and me under the stars with a small fire, and..." Here, her attention flickered towards the food, "this is smelling really good. Thank you."
At the end, she raised her glass in gesture, and once done, emptied the glass before looking a little expectantly at Marcus. Drinking with a Russian, even at dinner, was a dangerous proposition.
Oh, in Valen's name... why did I ever get into a drinking evening with a Russian?
Marcus glanced warily at the wine bottle, noting that they'd barely dented it, then at the empty glass in Susan's hand. "You do realise I'm on duty tomorrow, don't you? I'm supposed to be guarding the TARDIS crew."
With a little sigh, though, and a little raising of his glass "Na Zdoroveye" he said, grinning a little as Susan's eyes widened when he spoke in a flawless Russian accent, then downed the glass in one.
This is going to be painful, come morning... he reminded himself. But so worth it to see Susan happy.
Susan was impressed with the pronunciation of the Russian toast, though even more with the double-pronged comment he'd made in his own defense. He'd go glass for glass for her while putting himself on her mercy as he has to do what she'd 'asked' him to do on the morrow. Hardly fair, really, because that brought her back to Rule #1. Never drink alone. However, it did excuse her from any of the other 'toasts' that might (or now, might not) be forthcoming from a somewhat loosened tongue. The problem was, now, that she still had to be sure that none of the other 'rules' were broken. The bottle was cracked, and had to be finished... or a little saved for the morning to stave off any hangover... unless Stephen had oxypills. Of course he had them, right? He'd always carried them in his pocket.
It was her turn to refill the glasses, and she did so the moment the glass bottom hit the table. She didn't refill his quite so much as she'd done hers, and rather than lifting the glass for yet another toast, she instead put the bottle down and reached for a fork for the salad. Spearing the first bit of greens, Susan asked, "How did your physical turn out there? Everything okay..." But for that whole 'empathic' thing. Once asked, she took the bite of the food, her brows raised at the 'familiarity' of it. What did she think? That hydroponics would have something that was comparable, but taste completely different? Of course, it also had that 'camping' flavour, when everything one ate tasted a whole lot better than if it was eaten 'at home', thanks to the exertions of the day.
The salad was washed down with a half-sip, half-swallow of wine, and another bite was taken. The way it was going, it wasn't going to last long, and neither was the wine...
Marcus lifted a mouthful of food to his lips and nodded, answering before eating "Yes, apparently all that's happened is that my brain has become more active than a normal Human's" he shrugged a little and ate the mouthful of food. Swallowing, he continued "while unusual, neither of the Doctors is worried. They were more worried for poor Martha, she had some sort of fit out there. So right now, they're working out what happened to her. I can't help there, I'm afraid."
"More active than a normal human's? Marcus, you're not a 'normal human'..." Susan had a quirk to her mouth, the smile hidden as she speared the last of her salad. "But, at least you're okay. Not that I doubted it after Stephen had a look at you." Couple that with the fact that he's got the rudiments of a good wall? She's not worried-- overmuch.
Leaning back in her seat for a moment, the wine glass was again taken up, and she paused before finishing it off. Oh, that's good... And, better yet, no more toasts! Not to the host, not to love, not to the fact that birds stilll fly, the ocean still has fish to be caught, damn the Cossacks, and so on... and on... and on. Susan replaced her glass, took up her fork once more, and teased at the fish for a moment, the flakiness showing off the almost perfection of cooking. The quirk turned easily into a smile as she looked to her dinner companion. "You know.... I'm surprised. After spending so much time in space, how did you manage this? Did you have help?" Translation? It's amazing! "I can't imagine you'd have had time on the outposts to do up something like this."
But, more importantly, and she waved her fork to dismiss the question as a new one came in. "What was the ship like?" After all, Susan's never been in a 'First One's ship... and only knowing the Vorlons (and the fact that they forced hibernation while within for humans!), she's got little to no knowledge or real experience of the technology at hand.
"Help?" he grinned, then sipped from his wine. "You might say that, but not for the cooking. I won't tell you who helped me cover up, but let's just say that if he gets found out, there'll be more than just you to worry about."
Again, he grinned, eating a mouthful of fish before continuing. "I used to catch fish, with my brother. We'd go out for a weekend, fending for ourselves and it's something you never really forget." He shrugged, spearing a little more salad. He was obviously a thoughtful eater, taking his time and savouring the food, but more than willing to talk as he did so. "We soon learned how to wrap them in leaves and bake them on the stones around a fire. They keep their moisture, since the leaves protect them, but they still have that vaguely smoked flavour."
"What was the ship like?"
Marcus paused, then thoughtfully chewed on his mouthful of salad. He was looking for the right way to describe the miracle he'd seen today.
Pursing his lips, his eyes followed the stream of smoke/steam that rose from the fire into the darkening sky. "Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet.
"You walk through the door and instead of a cupboard, you're in a structure that's so large you can barely encompass it all with your thoughts, let alone words. Larger on the inside than the out, was what the Doctor said. That doesn't really cover it, but when you consider he has gardens, VR rooms... you could say that it's nearly the size of Green sector, and then some."
Susan's eyes narrowed briefly. 'He'. Judging from the length of time spent on the island thus far, the Ranger, to her knowledge, only had a handful of friendships... and those, perhaps one or two would be willing to go out on a limb for him? Stephen and John. As far as Stephen was concerned, she wasn't all that sure that he had to worry about anyone else for helping Marcus. Now the Commander on the other hand... Scott was out of the running as he wasn't actually at the camp; not to mention she didn't think he had the personality to become one of Marcus' partners in crime. It took a certain type of person.
Still, the food was more than enough to keep her mind off revenge, if only for the moment, and in between the forks of fish, she refilled her own glass. Third, while Marcus was only on his first. She'd let him off the 'hook', as it were, as he had to return to the ship at one point before the morning. Susan'd never admit it, but she wasn't really looking forward to that.
The ship...
"Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet..."
The displaced commander stopped, her fork held in the air before she replaced it on the island's makeshift plate. "A broom closet?" Her brows almost disappeared into her hairline in the description. How could it be that big, and still be -- are you telling me, that from the outside, the ship looks to be the size of a broom closet?" She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the idea. The other First Ones ships she'd seen were, well, SHIPS. Granted, their configurations were a mystery, but they were recognizable as ships. This? Not so much. And, truthfully, she wasn't 'where Marcus was' in regards to 'forgiving'... He'd never responded to her accusations-- only his... she'd left by then. She'd looked, she'd called out to the void, to the rim... and her world was in the process of being utterly destroyed.
Her world out there.
Not somewhere she honestly wanted to be, now.
Some of her thoughts on the matter were displayed in a pressing of her lips, her expression darkening fleetingly before she reached for a glass of wine, the attempt to dispel such thoughts of rising anger, couching the fear and despair she'd felt. The swallow was preceded with the quickest of salutes to the man before her before taken, and a deep breath followed by an audible exhale was given as the glass was replaced. Now, however... she had to tell herself, she was here. Marcus was here. Stephen was here... and everything would be okay.
"How is the command deck laid out? I mean, there's got to be something, right? What sort of power does it use? How much damage did it sustain when it landed? Something that can be fixed?" It's a whole lot easier talking about the physical makeup of the ship rather than those little bits and pieces that once threatened to rear its head. That, and the debriefing of intel was so deeply ingrained that it was part of her, even if she'd only worked with the Ranger for a scant 6-8 months. "The medical facilities? Anything that he'd allow Stephen access to?"
As Susan silently toasted him, Marcus reached for and returned the salute before draining his own glass (as tradition dictates). He smiled, setting the empty glass down before refilling first Susan's, then part-filling his own. He couldn't have been more grateful for her leniency.
Chewing on another mouthful of fish, he contemplated what he'd learned.
"It's possible the Doctor would let Stephen in to the med-bay, in an emergency. It wasn't really much more advanced than something the Minbari ships might have, except that it's scans are more detailed, more..." he paused, looking for the right words "complete?"
He sipped his wine, to moisten his throat. "As for fuel, I suspect that it's nothing as primitive as nuclear, and the engine, if that's what it was, seemed more crystalline, so I suspect a new type of power. Quite clean burning, as there was no radiating heat."
He smiled at Susan, happy to talk business, happy to talk about whatever she wanted.
"The console room that I saw has only a few furnishings... mmm. More like Narn aesthetics than anything else. I like the sparseness, but dark coppers, bronzes, those colours get hard on the eyes after a time. It has a large, central column, but I think it's designed to allow for a single pilot, since the monitor could be moved.
"Although, I'm not certain if what I saw wasn't just a telepathic projection of the ship, so we'd feel more comfortable, or not. I couldn't say for sure."
Susan smiled at Marcus' 'toast' and subsequent draining of his glass. Of course it didn't pass her notice that her glass was refilled and his, only half. She gave comment on it a pass, however. She wasn't all that certain when he was planning on returning, and as a result, really had to be in -top- form. She'd never forgive herself if she'd sent him out, as it were, in anything but. How many times did she have to scrub a flight because the pilot wasn't at form? Too many-- and the Ranger relied on his wits.
The food on her plate was little but remnants. Something that never had to be worried about-- Susan usually finished her meals, undoubtedly in the military mindset that one never knew when and what the next would be... if there would be.
"Telepathic projection of the ship?" That was a possibility, and one that wouldn't ordinarily occur to her. But, once mentionned, it couldn't be taken off the table until more information was gathered. "Doesn't sound like there's much, though. I mean, obvious drive systems? Navigation? Weapons?" Even on the White Stars, one of the more advanced ships she's been on, it was obvious (for the most part) what each station was... or, at least, that there were stations that could correspond to those controls.
But, there was something earlier than she'd caught, and only now questioned, and her manner and mien implied that it would harken back to the more personal in that she retook her glass and now sipped the wine. Fourth glass in, strong wine, and she's... relaxed, well on her way to being < 'tipsy'. "You and your brother fishing. On Arisia? I don't recall there being any real lakes or anything there."
Marcus was silently pleased to see the almost hazy smile that Susan wore. It warmed him to know she'd relaxed enough to be happy, but not 'in her cups' as his mother would politely say.
However, he knew that he shouldn't be drinking any more than this third glass, so he nursed it over his empty plate.
Moving slightly, he slipped a plate of fruits onto the 'table', even a few red berries peeking out, giving some much needed colour to the yellow and white flesh of the mango and melon slices. "Cranberries" he answered to her inquisative look.
"Doesn't sound like there's much, though. I mean, obvious drive systems? Navigation? Weapons?"
Marcus shrugged, sipping a small amount of wine. "I couldn't see anything either on the hull, or inside that looked like a weapon. It was like no other ship I've seen before, but really until you see it for yourself, there's not a lot you can get from any descriptions" he hesitated a moment, then leaned forward. "You know, you could always return with me later tonight? I'd appreciate the company." He left it unsaid that most of the TARDIS crew had an over-inflated sex-drive and seemed to him too fixated on frivolous things. But he'd never indicate that either by thought, or deed, to anyone. It wasn't fair, that his own perspective should preclude him making friends with Scott, or any of the others.
"You and your brother fishing. On Arisia? I don't recall there being any real lakes or anything there."
Marcus laughed softly, fingers toying over the rim of his glass. "When your parents own the whole colony, or rather, a sizeable portion of it, then they have a tendancy to spoil their children. Father had a small game reserve, with a large man made lake, stocked with salmon and trout, just for the two of us. I admit I had a slightly privellaged upbringing."
Susan shook her head slowly at the offer, her smile fading only a moment. "No. I need to stay here. I've got lots to do in the morning, after I get up and have my coffee..." And, she hasn't yet forgiven the TimeLord for not answering, for not finding her when she was in the Great Machine. She looked, she called... and found some, but-- it just wasn't enough. "It's not that I don't want to, mind..." Susan added that bit a little faster, but... if she thought about it, Marcus probably had little to do, well, other than scout out the area. After all, who had gone? The evening here was comparitively devoid of sounds of people in the throes of ecstacy, which probably meant--
She listened, however, to the descriptions and was properly confused at the configurations Marcus was describing. No, it wasn't anything like she'd ever seen before either, and she knew that the Ranger had perfect recall and could describe anything he'd seen, right down to the slightest detail. They really did make a good team, which was probably why the Captain and Delenn had kept throwing them together to work. She just never wanted to admit it, and only now, was it beginning to dawn on her as to why he'd always shown up when she was asked to do something, or conversely, her aid was sought when needed by him.
Susan's smile relit at the confession of being spoiled as a child. It's what kids should be, honestly... as long as they have a grounding in reality. She really was still a little surprised at his taking on the mantle of massive responsibility that are is the Ranger life. "That must have cost a pretty penny. I haven't seen fish since, well... years. Just shipping them in must have costed thousands of credits." Thousands... More money than, well, she'd see in her lifetime in one place. Not that she minded, really-- but it would have been nice to have some semblance of a... discretionary fund.
Still, there was nothing there behind her smile other than the pleasure of company. Another sip was taken, and one more before she exhaled, the look very much as if some silent decision was made. Of course, it was nothing earth shattering, at least for any that may not know her as well as Marcus. "Are you going back tonight?"
With a soft sigh and averted eyes, Marcus' nod was barely perceptible. "I must be back before dawn, at least."
He sheepishly raised his eyes to hers.
And almost promptly lost himself in her gaze.
Falling silent, he watched her, thoughts vanishing as he wondered to himself about the future they may have. "I know you're going to be busy here, but..." he stopped, with a soft cough as he forced himself to sip from his wine and look away for a moment. When he turned back, his momentary lapse of control was gone. His keen eyes sparkled with unsaid truths that he was only just now learning to speak.
"I will miss you."
He said this with nothing more than a simple shrug.
However, it took a great deal of willpower not to splutter when Susan mentioned marriage. "No..." he started to say, but she cut him off.
He stared, as she continued, not in a rude way, but he was transfixed by her voice, her attitude and well... her honesty.
It wasn't something he'd expected to see, not so early on in their relationship.
When she thanked him, he ducked his eyes, somewhat abashed by the simple words.
As he spoke, the words came quietly, bearly audible above the snapping and hissing of the fire to their side.
"I came back because I made a promise." he admitted, but he'd been GLAD to come back, so he raised his eyes again now, hoping she'd see that in the cerulean depths.
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now" he smiled a little sheepishly, knowing that John would slap him upside the head (or TRY to) for sounding like a sap.
He took a deep breath and sipped the wine once more, the scent of the fresh fish and citrus and herby salad filling his senses.
"It wasn't a proposal, Susan, just an acknowledgement that I'd... be honoured if you'd let me do small things, to make you happy. Seeing you smile, your eyes lighting up that makes me happy. I don't know how else to phrase it, really."
He shrugged a little, giving up any pretense at masks and secrets. "I want to be WITH you, no matter what. But I want it to be on your terms."
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For the first six months of her being acquainted with the Ranger seated opposite her, it had been just that, in her mind, that he was asking for. A chance to relax, let down her Russian reserve, and just... take a breath. At the time, even up to the moment of the station's last stand, there was no time, no chance, not to mention she really didn't want to. Susan couldn't trust that this time, it would be different.
Now?
"I promised once that you'd never be alone as long as I draw breath. You may not have heard that, but you know it now"
Susan looked down at her food and shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat. That was a little more along the lines of what she'd expected, rather than the descriptions of ecstacy felt at marriage proposals. Technically, it'd meant the same, but it was a great deal more... personal, and palatable. It addressed her biggest fear, and she had a feeling he knew, her single dream.
She took a deep breath, and finally looked back up, looking him in the eye. She could tell that he meant it, as far as he was in control to make that promise. Susan pressed her lips together in an attempt to smile once more, offered, "Yes, well..." This was an evening of being completely... stumped. She'd been outmaneuvered, and yes... in a way, this could be likened to a skirmish within a campaign, and even she realized it.
"I don't know what my terms are, Marcus." How's that for honesty again? "I'm not some shrinking violet, though, that'll fade without you in the room. I'm not some simpering waif that can't survive until the next time I see you." Though she had admitted that she had missed him in his absence. "But... this is nice." At least there's some encouragement, right? "But please don't promise something you can't deliver." It was almost a plead. Almost. "I can't promise it either. I couldn't promise it a week ago, and I can't now... though now is a little easier than then." But the fact that she had considered it made it more of a tacit promise than spoken.
Susan shifted in her seat once more and noticed that she still held her wine in hand, and that she hadn't yet had any. She glanced back to Marcus and straightened, the glass in hand. She lifted it slightly in the air and cleared her voice softly,
"Dinner, tonight... and the two of us actually sitting down and not bickering is cause for noting the occasion. It's been a long time since I could actually relax without having to wonder if my 'link was going to go off, calling me back to duty, or waking me up in the middle of the night with a report from Alpha Squadron. Granted, you haven't told me anything about what you've seen so far since you were gone today, and all that could easily go out the window, but for the moment... it's us. You and me under the stars with a small fire, and..." Here, her attention flickered towards the food, "this is smelling really good. Thank you."
At the end, she raised her glass in gesture, and once done, emptied the glass before looking a little expectantly at Marcus. Drinking with a Russian, even at dinner, was a dangerous proposition.
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Marcus glanced warily at the wine bottle, noting that they'd barely dented it, then at the empty glass in Susan's hand. "You do realise I'm on duty tomorrow, don't you? I'm supposed to be guarding the TARDIS crew."
With a little sigh, though, and a little raising of his glass "Na Zdoroveye" he said, grinning a little as Susan's eyes widened when he spoke in a flawless Russian accent, then downed the glass in one.
This is going to be painful, come morning... he reminded himself. But so worth it to see Susan happy.
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It was her turn to refill the glasses, and she did so the moment the glass bottom hit the table. She didn't refill his quite so much as she'd done hers, and rather than lifting the glass for yet another toast, she instead put the bottle down and reached for a fork for the salad. Spearing the first bit of greens, Susan asked, "How did your physical turn out there? Everything okay..." But for that whole 'empathic' thing. Once asked, she took the bite of the food, her brows raised at the 'familiarity' of it. What did she think? That hydroponics would have something that was comparable, but taste completely different? Of course, it also had that 'camping' flavour, when everything one ate tasted a whole lot better than if it was eaten 'at home', thanks to the exertions of the day.
The salad was washed down with a half-sip, half-swallow of wine, and another bite was taken. The way it was going, it wasn't going to last long, and neither was the wine...
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He took a forkful of fish "how's the food?"
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Leaning back in her seat for a moment, the wine glass was again taken up, and she paused before finishing it off. Oh, that's good... And, better yet, no more toasts! Not to the host, not to love, not to the fact that birds stilll fly, the ocean still has fish to be caught, damn the Cossacks, and so on... and on... and on. Susan replaced her glass, took up her fork once more, and teased at the fish for a moment, the flakiness showing off the almost perfection of cooking. The quirk turned easily into a smile as she looked to her dinner companion. "You know.... I'm surprised. After spending so much time in space, how did you manage this? Did you have help?" Translation? It's amazing! "I can't imagine you'd have had time on the outposts to do up something like this."
But, more importantly, and she waved her fork to dismiss the question as a new one came in. "What was the ship like?" After all, Susan's never been in a 'First One's ship... and only knowing the Vorlons (and the fact that they forced hibernation while within for humans!), she's got little to no knowledge or real experience of the technology at hand.
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Again, he grinned, eating a mouthful of fish before continuing. "I used to catch fish, with my brother. We'd go out for a weekend, fending for ourselves and it's something you never really forget." He shrugged, spearing a little more salad. He was obviously a thoughtful eater, taking his time and savouring the food, but more than willing to talk as he did so. "We soon learned how to wrap them in leaves and bake them on the stones around a fire. They keep their moisture, since the leaves protect them, but they still have that vaguely smoked flavour."
"What was the ship like?"
Marcus paused, then thoughtfully chewed on his mouthful of salad. He was looking for the right way to describe the miracle he'd seen today.
Pursing his lips, his eyes followed the stream of smoke/steam that rose from the fire into the darkening sky. "Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet.
"You walk through the door and instead of a cupboard, you're in a structure that's so large you can barely encompass it all with your thoughts, let alone words. Larger on the inside than the out, was what the Doctor said. That doesn't really cover it, but when you consider he has gardens, VR rooms... you could say that it's nearly the size of Green sector, and then some."
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Still, the food was more than enough to keep her mind off revenge, if only for the moment, and in between the forks of fish, she refilled her own glass. Third, while Marcus was only on his first. She'd let him off the 'hook', as it were, as he had to return to the ship at one point before the morning. Susan'd never admit it, but she wasn't really looking forward to that.
The ship...
"Imagine the landing deck on B5. That huge area. Then package it within a broom closet..."
The displaced commander stopped, her fork held in the air before she replaced it on the island's makeshift plate. "A broom closet?" Her brows almost disappeared into her hairline in the description. How could it be that big, and still be -- are you telling me, that from the outside, the ship looks to be the size of a broom closet?" She shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the idea. The other First Ones ships she'd seen were, well, SHIPS. Granted, their configurations were a mystery, but they were recognizable as ships. This? Not so much. And, truthfully, she wasn't 'where Marcus was' in regards to 'forgiving'... He'd never responded to her accusations-- only his... she'd left by then. She'd looked, she'd called out to the void, to the rim... and her world was in the process of being utterly destroyed.
Her world out there.
Not somewhere she honestly wanted to be, now.
Some of her thoughts on the matter were displayed in a pressing of her lips, her expression darkening fleetingly before she reached for a glass of wine, the attempt to dispel such thoughts of rising anger, couching the fear and despair she'd felt. The swallow was preceded with the quickest of salutes to the man before her before taken, and a deep breath followed by an audible exhale was given as the glass was replaced. Now, however... she had to tell herself, she was here. Marcus was here. Stephen was here... and everything would be okay.
"How is the command deck laid out? I mean, there's got to be something, right? What sort of power does it use? How much damage did it sustain when it landed? Something that can be fixed?" It's a whole lot easier talking about the physical makeup of the ship rather than those little bits and pieces that once threatened to rear its head. That, and the debriefing of intel was so deeply ingrained that it was part of her, even if she'd only worked with the Ranger for a scant 6-8 months. "The medical facilities? Anything that he'd allow Stephen access to?"
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Chewing on another mouthful of fish, he contemplated what he'd learned.
"It's possible the Doctor would let Stephen in to the med-bay, in an emergency. It wasn't really much more advanced than something the Minbari ships might have, except that it's scans are more detailed, more..." he paused, looking for the right words "complete?"
He sipped his wine, to moisten his throat. "As for fuel, I suspect that it's nothing as primitive as nuclear, and the engine, if that's what it was, seemed more crystalline, so I suspect a new type of power. Quite clean burning, as there was no radiating heat."
He smiled at Susan, happy to talk business, happy to talk about whatever she wanted.
"The console room that I saw has only a few furnishings... mmm. More like Narn aesthetics than anything else. I like the sparseness, but dark coppers, bronzes, those colours get hard on the eyes after a time. It has a large, central column, but I think it's designed to allow for a single pilot, since the monitor could be moved.
"Although, I'm not certain if what I saw wasn't just a telepathic projection of the ship, so we'd feel more comfortable, or not. I couldn't say for sure."
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The food on her plate was little but remnants. Something that never had to be worried about-- Susan usually finished her meals, undoubtedly in the military mindset that one never knew when and what the next would be... if there would be.
"Telepathic projection of the ship?" That was a possibility, and one that wouldn't ordinarily occur to her. But, once mentionned, it couldn't be taken off the table until more information was gathered. "Doesn't sound like there's much, though. I mean, obvious drive systems? Navigation? Weapons?" Even on the White Stars, one of the more advanced ships she's been on, it was obvious (for the most part) what each station was... or, at least, that there were stations that could correspond to those controls.
But, there was something earlier than she'd caught, and only now questioned, and her manner and mien implied that it would harken back to the more personal in that she retook her glass and now sipped the wine. Fourth glass in, strong wine, and she's... relaxed, well on her way to being < 'tipsy'. "You and your brother fishing. On Arisia? I don't recall there being any real lakes or anything there."
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However, he knew that he shouldn't be drinking any more than this third glass, so he nursed it over his empty plate.
Moving slightly, he slipped a plate of fruits onto the 'table', even a few red berries peeking out, giving some much needed colour to the yellow and white flesh of the mango and melon slices. "Cranberries" he answered to her inquisative look.
"Doesn't sound like there's much, though. I mean, obvious drive systems? Navigation? Weapons?"
Marcus shrugged, sipping a small amount of wine. "I couldn't see anything either on the hull, or inside that looked like a weapon. It was like no other ship I've seen before, but really until you see it for yourself, there's not a lot you can get from any descriptions" he hesitated a moment, then leaned forward. "You know, you could always return with me later tonight? I'd appreciate the company." He left it unsaid that most of the TARDIS crew had an over-inflated sex-drive and seemed to him too fixated on frivolous things. But he'd never indicate that either by thought, or deed, to anyone. It wasn't fair, that his own perspective should preclude him making friends with Scott, or any of the others.
"You and your brother fishing. On Arisia? I don't recall there being any real lakes or anything there."
Marcus laughed softly, fingers toying over the rim of his glass. "When your parents own the whole colony, or rather, a sizeable portion of it, then they have a tendancy to spoil their children. Father had a small game reserve, with a large man made lake, stocked with salmon and trout, just for the two of us. I admit I had a slightly privellaged upbringing."
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She listened, however, to the descriptions and was properly confused at the configurations Marcus was describing. No, it wasn't anything like she'd ever seen before either, and she knew that the Ranger had perfect recall and could describe anything he'd seen, right down to the slightest detail. They really did make a good team, which was probably why the Captain and Delenn had kept throwing them together to work. She just never wanted to admit it, and only now, was it beginning to dawn on her as to why he'd always shown up when she was asked to do something, or conversely, her aid was sought when needed by him.
Susan's smile relit at the confession of being spoiled as a child. It's what kids should be, honestly... as long as they have a grounding in reality. She really was still a little surprised at his taking on the mantle of massive responsibility that are is the Ranger life. "That must have cost a pretty penny. I haven't seen fish since, well... years. Just shipping them in must have costed thousands of credits." Thousands... More money than, well, she'd see in her lifetime in one place. Not that she minded, really-- but it would have been nice to have some semblance of a... discretionary fund.
Still, there was nothing there behind her smile other than the pleasure of company. Another sip was taken, and one more before she exhaled, the look very much as if some silent decision was made. Of course, it was nothing earth shattering, at least for any that may not know her as well as Marcus. "Are you going back tonight?"
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He sheepishly raised his eyes to hers.
And almost promptly lost himself in her gaze.
Falling silent, he watched her, thoughts vanishing as he wondered to himself about the future they may have. "I know you're going to be busy here, but..." he stopped, with a soft cough as he forced himself to sip from his wine and look away for a moment. When he turned back, his momentary lapse of control was gone. His keen eyes sparkled with unsaid truths that he was only just now learning to speak.
"I will miss you."
He said this with nothing more than a simple shrug.
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