Snippet #4
Jul. 10th, 2003 05:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveApollo
"Are you coming?"
Apollo didn't glance over, just lifted a hand in an absent wave, indicating they should go along without him. Lying on his bunk, reader in his hands, he was perfectly content to spend his free time actually enjoying himself. Normally, the other warriors would manage to drag him off someplace -- the bars, clubs, places where off-duty pilots could over-indulge and waste their credits on fanciful and immaterial things. Only Boomer ever seemed to understand that he preferred quieter pasttimes to relax with.
"Hey, Ensign?"
He looked up at the question, at the warrior standing at the foot of his bunk. Apollo didn't recognise him, and the press of his jacket said that he was probably newly commissioned. He was probably one of the newest group assigned to the squadron just that morning, Apollo realised.
"Yes?" He tried to sound polite and helpful, when what he really wanted was to tell the young man to go away.
The other warrior smiled, suddenly, and Apollo felt something kick him in the stomach. He sat up, slowly. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
The young man's smile turned amused. "I asked if you knew which club the others headed off to."
Apollo set his reader down. "I'd be happy to show you. I'm headed there, myself."
The other pilot glanced at Apollo's discarded reader, gave him a raised-eyebrow look. Then his confusion cleared. "Are you, now?" he asked, and his voice nearly purred with self-satisfaction. Apollo didn't mind.
He rather hoped to be purring some himself, later.
"Are you coming?"
Apollo didn't glance over, just lifted a hand in an absent wave, indicating they should go along without him. Lying on his bunk, reader in his hands, he was perfectly content to spend his free time actually enjoying himself. Normally, the other warriors would manage to drag him off someplace -- the bars, clubs, places where off-duty pilots could over-indulge and waste their credits on fanciful and immaterial things. Only Boomer ever seemed to understand that he preferred quieter pasttimes to relax with.
"Hey, Ensign?"
He looked up at the question, at the warrior standing at the foot of his bunk. Apollo didn't recognise him, and the press of his jacket said that he was probably newly commissioned. He was probably one of the newest group assigned to the squadron just that morning, Apollo realised.
"Yes?" He tried to sound polite and helpful, when what he really wanted was to tell the young man to go away.
The other warrior smiled, suddenly, and Apollo felt something kick him in the stomach. He sat up, slowly. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
The young man's smile turned amused. "I asked if you knew which club the others headed off to."
Apollo set his reader down. "I'd be happy to show you. I'm headed there, myself."
The other pilot glanced at Apollo's discarded reader, gave him a raised-eyebrow look. Then his confusion cleared. "Are you, now?" he asked, and his voice nearly purred with self-satisfaction. Apollo didn't mind.
He rather hoped to be purring some himself, later.