[closed to Angela]

[first_donoharm]

How had he ever roped himself into this? As he accompanied Angela to the lowest level of the Enterprise to board the starbase at which they were docked, he asked himself again and wondered just how far he'd let himself slip. Angela, for her part, was all smiles; she'd tried talking to him a few times on their turbo ride down, but he just glared

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[setphasersto]

Angela was terribly pleased with herself. She needed time off the ship and she was sure Bones did to, whether or not he would admit it to himself. She was going to make him have fun, even if she had to force him to. The ensign hadn't fully decided how going shopping with her would be fun for him, but she would figure it out.

She grinned at him as he listed the options. She had not even bothered to look at a map of the place, banking on the fact that Starfleet's bases were pretty standardized. But Angela would humor him and let him play navigator. "I can wait on eating. Let's just head for the Promenade."

Though it wasn't her Starbase, Angela felt a little bit at home. She liked the way it was filled with all sorts of interesting people and new things to look at. The Enterprise was nice, but in a very different way

[first_donoharm]

Bones had never been to a station, for obvious reasons. Though they weren't exactly popular places for vacationers even if Jocey had wanted to drag him off-planet. As such, he'd taken it upon himself to familiarize himself with every aspect of one. Though, as far as man-made objects in space went, he was much more comfortable with a starbase than a ship. McCoy wondered if he might even be able to relax a little-- but then he remembered who he was with, and sighed.

"Alright," he agreed easily. It wasn't as if he needed anything, after all. "A dress? For the upcoming mission, you mean?" Bones frowned deeper. "I won't need anything for that, will I? Jim didn't mention-- my dress uniform will be appropriate, right?" The last thing he wanted was to shop for himself. It had been at least four years since he'd bought clothing for himself. Hell, he didn't even remember what his sizes were. "I know they have a Clothiers onboard. They could probably help you with whatever you needed."

[setphasersto]

She shrugged. "Oh! The mission. I hadn't actually though about that, because I did bring a nice one from home in case we had to go anywhere important. I was thinking more something fun. For parties and my own amusement."

Angela shook her head to his question. "No, you shouldn't need anything unless you want something nice - otherwise your dress uniform should be fine."

The ensign continued to chatter as they headed for Clothiers. "Have you ever been on a station before? I miss it sometimes. So many different people and species coming in and out of the station all the time, and there was so much to explore." Angela flashed him a grin. "I remember when we first got back to Earth just being totally blown away by all those normal Earth things like grass, and the ocean, and wind because I just didn't really remember it. We hardly ever went planet-side as a kid and the fake stuff totally doesn't compare."

[first_donoharm]

"Of course you haven't," Bones replied, trying not to roll his eyes. At times, it felt like he and Spock were the only ones who thought in advance about missions. After the disaster that was their first mission, though, McCoy was surprised the entire ship wasn't committing their assignment to memory. He supposed there were few who took the death of one crew member and the near-death of another as hard as the CMO, except Jim of course.

"Good. I haven't needed clothes since I left Georgia; I hadn't intended to start now," he told her honestly. "No, I've never been to a space station before. Not that big a fan of space; I've always tried to avoid huge vacuums that can kill me, actually." The terror and panic managed to sneak into his voice despite his best efforts. Taking a few calming breaths, McCoy diverted the subject.

"You're really missing out, then," he said, thinking about Georgia during all its seasons, a wistful expression overtaking him.