(Untitled)

[russiainwention]

[A wild Chekov appears! He's obviously expecting to be somewhere else, though, because when he unfreezes from the beaming position, he glances around in shock before promptly..... swearing up a storm.]

Zat ill mannered, delusional Cossack vith horrible taste in- [flips open communicator promptly]

Wery funny, Scotty. Now beam me to ze right planet

Comments

[obsidian_tailor]

Not quite.

[russiainwention]

AH.

[Hey, give him a minute, not even Klingons had facial ridges yet in TOS.]

Vhat in ze name of-- not qvite, not qvite vhat?

[obsidian_tailor]

Is something the matter?

[russiainwention]

Vell, I am.. somevhat lost, and...

Just vhat are you?

[veryfortunate]

I am afraid I have not seen him.

[russiainwention]

Haf not seen-- ... Lady Amanda?

[veryfortunate]

Hello, Mr. Chekov.

[hates_promotion]

Chekov?

[russiainwention]

Keptin! [.... whoa.] ... Keptin?!

[hates_promotion]

Yes, it's me.

[victoryofthecho]

Lost, are you.

[The bald young man is leaning with his back to the wall in quasi-calm, arms folded, eyes following Chekov and lingering on the uniform's insignia]

What a pity.

[russiainwention]

[BAH. Chekov doesn't like your attitude so far, sir.]

Yeah, vhat's it to you?

[victoryofthecho]

[twitch of his mouth at the accent. It's weird to him, and so he's curious, but he's trying to disguise it, not willing to reveal any weakness.]

You wouldn't be alone. [loose gesture to Chekov's uniform, almost friendly, but still a bit too intense] You're with the Federation? What's your name?

[starfleetdata]

Ah. You have apparantly arrived through the transporter as well. Not that it seems to make a difference, but it is worth noting.