Data is in the bar with his cat today, occupying one of the booths. Spot is standing on the table with his face in a bowl of (apparently delicious) cat food, next to which is a datapad that his owner is currently studying
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Next time he eats dinner here, Fakir decides, he's just going to order from the waitrats. It's too difficult to carry a large tray of food while watching to make sure he doesn't step on one of the rats.
Meanwhile, if Fakir wants to keep his reputation for grace, he'd better put his dinner down on the nearest table before a disaster occurs.
He doesn't notice until afterwards that someone's already sitting there.
Data is rather surprised when a stranger comes to join him so abruptly, but he is anything but averse to the idea.
"Please do," he replies, politely moving the bowl of half-finished cat food further to the side. He then offers his hand, still holding Spot in his other arm. "Lieutenant Commander Data, of the starship Enterprise."
Spot looks like he is wondering why the petting has stopped. He eyes the stranger suspiciously.
Fakir's seen enough handshakes at Milliways to be familiar with the motion, and he's good at learning moves. He shakes Data's hand confidently. "Fakir, advanced ballet student at Gold Crown Academy."
(There are two chances in three, Fakir thinks, that the next question's going to be "Do you know Duck?")
Fakir doesn't comment on the cat, but his expression softens when he looks at Spot.
Strangely enough, Data has not yet had the pleasure of meeting the hapless redhead. He confirms this fact when he says, "I am not familiar with that institution. Is it an art school?"
Data resumes petting his cat. Spot seems to be ignoring the converstation now.
Duck is bouncing cheerfully past Spock's table when she notices . . . the cat.
!!!!!!!
She reels backwards on her heels - the 'flight' reflex is maybe just a little stronger in girls who are actually ducks - and then remembers a little late that she is a girl now, a girl who is ten times the size of cats (except for Mr. Cat, but that's another story) and promptly tries very hard to put on an air of total unconcern.
She'd be whistling if she could. Alas, she cannot.
Spot notices the woman first, and stares at her so suspiciously that Data glances over to determine what might be the object of the cat's attention. He is rather surprised to discover that he is being watched.
When Spot notices that he and his owner are being watched, he focuses on the person who is watching. His tail whips from side to side, and his fur threatens to stand on end.
Data notices the change in his cat's behavior. "What is it, Spot?" he asks, then glances towards where the feline seems to be looking.
He is distracted by the girl he sees sitting there. "Hello," he greets.
Back in London, putting a lead on his dog is second nature to Tim. Here in Milliways, not so much. Colin's past the point where he feels the need to wander, and usually stays fairly close by -- Even when Tim's ignoring him by way of scribbling madly in his sketchbook.
Today is one of those days. Tim is colouring, and Colin is being lazy by his feet (lately, they both have begun to feel the need to get out of the apartment and away from the mad woman they live with).
Until, that is, a soft mew piques the dog's interest. He gets up to find the source of the strange noise, eventually making his way over to the man and the animal in his arms.
He barks once. He does not mean either of them harm, but rather, just wants to see what the animal is, and why it is in the bar.
The cat mews somewhat loudly, not in a threatening way but as if to say, "Hey, that food on the table is mine. What do you want?" --the last dog Spot met in Milliways stole some of his meal, so he can only assume that this one is after the same thing.
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Meanwhile, if Fakir wants to keep his reputation for grace, he'd better put his dinner down on the nearest table before a disaster occurs.
He doesn't notice until afterwards that someone's already sitting there.
"Can I join you?" Fakir asks belatedly.
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"Please do," he replies, politely moving the bowl of half-finished cat food further to the side. He then offers his hand, still holding Spot in his other arm. "Lieutenant Commander Data, of the starship Enterprise."
Spot looks like he is wondering why the petting has stopped. He eyes the stranger suspiciously.
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(There are two chances in three, Fakir thinks, that the next question's going to be "Do you know Duck?")
Fakir doesn't comment on the cat, but his expression softens when he looks at Spot.
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Data resumes petting his cat. Spot seems to be ignoring the converstation now.
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!!!!!!!
She reels backwards on her heels - the 'flight' reflex is maybe just a little stronger in girls who are actually ducks - and then remembers a little late that she is a girl now, a girl who is ten times the size of cats (except for Mr. Cat, but that's another story) and promptly tries very hard to put on an air of total unconcern.
She'd be whistling if she could. Alas, she cannot.
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"Pardon me," he addresses politely, still petting his cat. "Are you alright?"
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Duck is both fine and brave! Yes! She is totally normal and cats do not scare her at all.
"I mean, why wouldn't I be fine, right?"
Introductions are normal, right? "I'm Duck!"
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The cat mews and cranes his neck a little, hoping to sniff at Duck.
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For the moment, Trudy (flightsuit, her own data-pad, boots up on the table) just watches him, frowning slightly and trying to place the uniform.
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"Hello," he greets politely.
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She hopes not. He's a beautiful thing, and her fingers are itching to pat him.
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"It is difficult to say," he answers finally. "But I cannot think of anything you would have done to offend him."
He thinks for a moment. "I believe that Spot is simply suspicious of most biological life forms."
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The cat probably will be uncomfortable with a dead thing watching.
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Data notices the change in his cat's behavior. "What is it, Spot?" he asks, then glances towards where the feline seems to be looking.
He is distracted by the girl he sees sitting there. "Hello," he greets.
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He is just starting to notice that the girl has an odd respiratory pattern. Odd, in that she does not seem to have one that he can observe.
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Today is one of those days. Tim is colouring, and Colin is being lazy by his feet (lately, they both have begun to feel the need to get out of the apartment and away from the mad woman they live with).
Until, that is, a soft mew piques the dog's interest. He gets up to find the source of the strange noise, eventually making his way over to the man and the animal in his arms.
He barks once. He does not mean either of them harm, but rather, just wants to see what the animal is, and why it is in the bar.
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"Hello," the android greets pleasantly.
The cat mews somewhat loudly, not in a threatening way but as if to say, "Hey, that food on the table is mine. What do you want?" --the last dog Spot met in Milliways stole some of his meal, so he can only assume that this one is after the same thing.
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This in turn alerts his owner, who comes over to retrieve his wandering dog.
"Sorry, mate," Tim says, picking the dog up from the ground. "He's not bothering you, is he?"
Colin, now at almost eye-level with Data, tries to lick him.
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Spot glances up at his owner, as if to say, "What, you're not going to pet me anymore?"
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