[Snip] First Form, yet again
“Later” couldn't come fast enough. It was strange - for some weeks, leading up to his shuttle ride off Varsfeldt, he'd had no urge whatsoever to seek out new company, and had in fact dreaded the demands of meeting new people. Now, not only did he have some honest curiosity about what had brought Sulik, so different from himself, into the same service, he also had a far more primal want welling up stronger with each passing hour.
He managed to get through his shift without entirely losing focus on what he was doing. But it was harder than such had ever been before. Hell, he couldn't ever recall feeling this kind of physical urge for Flint, and that was more than a little disconcerting... briefly, until giddy excitement overrode the anxiety.
A particularly well-singed fighter got both of them liberally stained with soot and smoke residue, and shelved initial plans to meet at that same lounge right after shift; instead, it was decided that they'd take an hour to freshen up and meet at a smaller lounge, in the same barracks block where Sulik was assigned - by happy chance, one that had actual, live cooks in attendance rather than a synthesizer. Drevin had never been quite so eager to strip down and get to the showers in his own barracks, scrubbing soot out of his fur with a will and working free a little more fur than had been strictly “loose” in the process.
It didn't go unnoticed. Farlin was leaning against the wall right beside the door to the showers, and caught his shoulder on his still-damp way out. “Hot date?” the squirrel asked softly.
Some measure of guilt for the physical bias to his own hopes for the evening collided with awareness that he hadn't actually said where he was going to be; and while the code of conduct didn't require him to account for all his off-duty hours as long as he kept his 'pad close to him and turned on at all times he wasn't either at a scheduled post or in his own barracks, that didn't mean skulking around like it was a big secret was a good idea. He flushed.
But Farlin cut off his stammering attempt to explain with a wave of his hand, giving a light pat to the shoulder he'd intercepted. “Relax, it's all right. I just want to be sure, after you were looking so shell-shocked the other day, that someone isn't taking advantage of things.”
“No, Sir,” Drevin insisted. “He would've put off saying anything to be sure, but...” He shrugged. “I found out by accident, and it didn't seem worth hiding after that.” Which made it seem like a lot more thought had gone into this encounter than actually had done, but it was the honest truth.
“Well, then. So long as you know your own rights and protections - I'm not going to insult us both by suggesting you couldn't quote them, I know you've been studying, but actually knowing them, feeling them, is sometimes another matter. Anyway, if anything unusual comes up, I'll buzz your 'pad.”
Which was as gentle a reminder as Drevin could have hoped for about that part of the regulations. Sure, he'd already known it, but if he had forgotten, it was about the most delicate way he could think of to be reminded without making it look like a reminder. “It's still at half-charge, sir. Should be good for another day yet, definitely for a sleep-cycle or so.”
“Good man.” One last clap to his shoulder, and Farlin stood. “Knock 'em dead, huh? And let yourself be happy for once. Maybe even proud. You've earned that much.”
He managed to get through his shift without entirely losing focus on what he was doing. But it was harder than such had ever been before. Hell, he couldn't ever recall feeling this kind of physical urge for Flint, and that was more than a little disconcerting... briefly, until giddy excitement overrode the anxiety.
A particularly well-singed fighter got both of them liberally stained with soot and smoke residue, and shelved initial plans to meet at that same lounge right after shift; instead, it was decided that they'd take an hour to freshen up and meet at a smaller lounge, in the same barracks block where Sulik was assigned - by happy chance, one that had actual, live cooks in attendance rather than a synthesizer. Drevin had never been quite so eager to strip down and get to the showers in his own barracks, scrubbing soot out of his fur with a will and working free a little more fur than had been strictly “loose” in the process.
It didn't go unnoticed. Farlin was leaning against the wall right beside the door to the showers, and caught his shoulder on his still-damp way out. “Hot date?” the squirrel asked softly.
Some measure of guilt for the physical bias to his own hopes for the evening collided with awareness that he hadn't actually said where he was going to be; and while the code of conduct didn't require him to account for all his off-duty hours as long as he kept his 'pad close to him and turned on at all times he wasn't either at a scheduled post or in his own barracks, that didn't mean skulking around like it was a big secret was a good idea. He flushed.
But Farlin cut off his stammering attempt to explain with a wave of his hand, giving a light pat to the shoulder he'd intercepted. “Relax, it's all right. I just want to be sure, after you were looking so shell-shocked the other day, that someone isn't taking advantage of things.”
“No, Sir,” Drevin insisted. “He would've put off saying anything to be sure, but...” He shrugged. “I found out by accident, and it didn't seem worth hiding after that.” Which made it seem like a lot more thought had gone into this encounter than actually had done, but it was the honest truth.
“Well, then. So long as you know your own rights and protections - I'm not going to insult us both by suggesting you couldn't quote them, I know you've been studying, but actually knowing them, feeling them, is sometimes another matter. Anyway, if anything unusual comes up, I'll buzz your 'pad.”
Which was as gentle a reminder as Drevin could have hoped for about that part of the regulations. Sure, he'd already known it, but if he had forgotten, it was about the most delicate way he could think of to be reminded without making it look like a reminder. “It's still at half-charge, sir. Should be good for another day yet, definitely for a sleep-cycle or so.”
“Good man.” One last clap to his shoulder, and Farlin stood. “Knock 'em dead, huh? And let yourself be happy for once. Maybe even proud. You've earned that much.”