| Usury Fees |
| Summary: | A convo of sorts after the evening of cataloging has ended |
| Date: | 121 ACH |
| Related Logs: | After Death Patrol |
| Players: |
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CMO's Quarters Genesis - Deck 13
121 ACH 23777 Souls
The quarters of the Chief Medical Officer are a spacious area, with large inset bookshelves holding Medical Texts, Biological works, and papers on advanced surgical procedures. A table surrounded by chairs is in the main section of the room, ashtrays on the table rest beside a few open books. A small personal head is located off the main room through a doorway. A rack and bed is set into a wall, neatly made. In the rear of the quarters is a desk with a locked file cabinet behind it and chairs placed in front of the desk, while behind it is a nice chair with lower back support. A computer terminal is on the desk with a number of security protocols on it to prevent unauthorized access.
Zaharis went 'home' to shower, now sitting at his table with a cigarette burning. A file's open in front of him, and he flips slowly through it without really reading the words.
Not much peeking can be done with the heft of the hatches on board. Your knock either resounds through the corridor or the ghostly whine of the metal moving on metal announces your arrival. It's the latter which heralds Tais, her skin pink from scrubbing, her hair still wet from repeated shampooings. Without preamble, she takes a chair, slipping herself into it, turning so her legs dangle over one of the arms. "That…was not how I wanted to spend my night."
Zaharis tenses subtly when the hatch opens without warning, eyes lifting. It takes a few seconds for him to relax again. "Think I'd be more concerned if you said it was."
Tais breathes deeply of the mentholated smoke, wishing she could slather it on her skin. Her head fits to the laced palms cradling her head as her eyes close behind her glasses in order to force her mind to stop their thoughts. Drawling her thanks, she moves swiftly to lean into him across the desk, "Blow the smoke in my face, Jesse." Yes, a strange request, but by now he should be used to them from her.
Zaharis obliges, as usual. Smoke billows towards her face in a grayish cloud. "Secondhand smoke kills, you know. This is rough on my conscience."
Tais breathes deeply, quickly removing her glasses before the smoke hits the glass. A soft smile parts her lips as she inhales the targeted plume, a delighted sigh extracted from her throat. "Mmm, thank you. You can speak at my eulogy."
"You sure about that?" Zaharis smirks, settling back in his chair and returning the cigarette to his lips. "You know what happens when you give me an inch."
You say, "St. Germain needs a psych eval. Eve cannot give it, Jes." That's all she has by way of work related trivia, "You've never taken a mile in your life. Always cautious, except when you wanted to see me drunk and poor."
"I'll have another psychiatrist take a look at him." Zaharis ashes his cigarette. "I never wanted to see you drunk and poor. You just never listened unless you were."
Tais leaves her glasses off, now residing on the desk between them, "I listened then?" She ponders this appraisal.
"Moreso after you woke up," Zaharis says. "You still owe me for about two canisters of coffee. I might be a nice guy and not charge you interest."
Tais's booted foot swings lazily over the arm, her body once more partially reclining sideways in the chair, "You still never took a mile. But that could have been before I met you. Age and treachery and all that." She looks askance at him in regards to the coffee, "Good gods, how much would interest /be/ on coffee that many months ago? Slavery was only good on Sagittaron."
Zaharis smirks, flicking his thumb against the cigarette filter. "Trying to play your Get out of Usury Free card? Implying that I'm old isn't winning you any brownie points."
Tais waves away the usury with an insouciant wave of her hand, "I'm your indentured servant, Jes. Always will be. You saved my life. You own me."
"No. You own you." Zaharis shakes his head, talking more quietly now. "I only did what someone else did for me once. What someone else had done for him. What I hope you'll do for someone one day. We all deserve to have someone give a damn about us."
Tais sobers at his words, straightening slowly, "I'm aware of that and know that I do. And have. I may tease and cajole, Jess, but I hope you know how your giving a damn for me helped me. I may talk about wanting a drink, but I never want to go back to those days. Nor will I ever."
Zaharis smiles a little, for first time all night. "You know I'll be here if you need me. Though I'm out of coffee, so you might just have to settle for a swift kick in the ass."
Tais shrugs lightly, her eyes slightly out of focus without her glasses, "Six of one, half a dozen of another." Kneeling in the chair, she reaches across the desk for his hand, her expression earnest. "I love you, Jes. I always will because, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you saved my life. I have your back." Her thumb brushes against rough skin, her eyes drawn to it, commenting, "Use more aloe."
Zaharis gives her hand a light squeeze before withdrawing his own. He's never been all that good with being touched. A glance at his scar-tightened hand and he smirks. "Yeah, I know. Been trying. Thanks for that, by the way. It helps more than you can imagine."
Tais knows of his aversion, hell, she has the same one. A testament to never having had sex for her entire 32 years. Still it doesn't stop her from pushing the envelope with him since he's the only one trustworthy enough to hold most, if not all of her secrets. "Glad I could help. Use it or I'll take you down and make you endure skin grafts." Slowly, she returns her glasses to her face, standing to take him in with a gently critical eye. "I want to see your pretty face again."
Zaharis snorts quietly. "Think the ship's got a priority list a few miles long before it hits cosmetic vanity." He smirks, getting a last drag off the cigarette and mashing it out in the ashtray. "But I'm not letting it go to waste, I promise."
Tais smiles gently, turning on her heel as she moves towards the hatch, "You know where I am if you feel the crawling on your skin, Jes. I can scratch a mean itch." Her hair, now dry falls down her back in a silken sheet. "Try to get some sleep."
"You too." Zaharis folds his arms on the desk. "Don't be a stranger, Pom-Pom." His feet are on the floor, ready to scoot the chair back in a hurry if anything comes flying at him.
Tais lets it pass this time and with a salacious wink, she shoulders open the door, closing it with a squeal of protest behind her.
