The thick mud mask gave an audible crack as Bale turned her head minutely to reach the long curling colourful straw that rose out of the fizzing pink liquid. As she shifted precariously close to cracking the mask, she caught a glimpse of Nevaeh Stroyer in the corner of her eye. A few feet away, the woman reclined on a long lounger in apparent bliss, her face a similar dark stone facade of thick, plaster-like mud.

“He said he didn’t want to get tied down.” Bale hissed as her mouth gaped like a fish for the long straw that hovered just out of reach of her lips. “I was like, Kurt… It’s a ship of a hundred people. Do you really think you have that many options?”

She smacked her lips together in frustration, the transparent straw tantalisingly out of reach.

Stroyer kept her eyes closed for just a split second longer than she had to, and used the additional time to figure out whether she was here for relaxing – or the gossip. Deciding that it was the latter, she turned just enough to remain comfortable and looked at Bale.

“Men.” she stated simply, as if that explained everything. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without-… no never mind that. Utterly useless.”

“On our last date,” Bale took a deep breath, the frustration becoming a slow simmer beneath the surface. “He called me four different names just between the soup course and the fish course.”

“Excuse me? Yeah. He’s basically just keeping his options open. I’d tell him to get lost and then … I don’t know, what’s that other guys name? Brad? Looks like a Brad, anyway.”, Stroyer mused.

“Burr’Rad.” Bale intoned as her lips finally caught the straw with a wet smack. With a long slurp, she pulled the remainder of the pink liquid into the tube, sending it cascading around its gravity-defying curves towards her waiting and already well lubricated throat.

“Thankyou Davin.” She offered the waiter who stood at her side a wide smile as he lifted the drink back onto the side table, the slender glass comedically small in his shovel palms as it joined several other empty receptacles. A slight nod and a toothy smile later, he and his well-oiled muscles stepped back out of sight.

“Everything takes so long with him and I just can’t remember all the bloody rules the Kretassans have.” She flipped onto her side where she could give Stroyer her full attention, any attempt at keeping the mudmask in place departing with the oiled hulk. “I dropped some muffins off to him on his double shift the other day and then had to perform a full 15-minute ceremony apologising for my louche behaviour.”

“The question you have to ask yourself” Stroyer said “Is if there is actually something you like about him. And if that’s worth the effort. Oh, and if Burrraaad is single.”

Neveah, in the meanwhile, was asking herself why she didn’t have drink. Or a muffin, now that Bale had reminded her that those existed.

The blue-haired lieutenant let out a snort of frustrated air that shook the mudmask, sending spidering cracks racing around her lips and eyes. Her romantic choices were somewhat limited aboard Daedalus, perhaps even doubly so now she was officially the ship’s operations officer. Still, Captain Mellasitoxx and Commander Sehgali had seemingly managed to make it work. Until it all came crashing down during their recent mission to K-74.

Maybe they weren’t quite such a good example.

“Is it even worth it, Neveah? All the dancing around, wondering if he’s interested, trading secretive looks across the warp core? Do I just keep expecting it to turn into a Dixon holonovel?” Bale narrowed her eyes as a smokey club erupted from her imagination, photonic wisps of smoke pouring out from oversized cigars, each lit seductively by beautiful, heavy-lidded vixens in evening gowns.

“I just want someone to light my cigar,” she muttered despondently.

Wasn’t that what they, ultimately, all wanted? Neveah rose from her lounger and equipped herself with neon-green beverage before she joined Bale in the pool.

“I am sure” She started “That there are enough individuals aboard the Daedalus who would love lighting your cigar. And it doesn’t always have to be the same person, either.”

Bale feigned a shocked face, her eyebrows flying into her hair line as he jaw dropped to the depths.

“Naveah!”

“Perhaps you need to stop running after him.” the blonde suggested. “Show him that you have other options. Get your cigar lit by his best friend and see what happens.”

Bale’s eyes narrowed as her pupils disappeared into her frowning eyebrows, a missing piece of the conversational jigsaw thwarting in her mind.

“I thought you were his best friend?” She finally announced, her naivety shining like a beacon through her mud mask.

Neveah raised a delicate, mud-mask-laden eyebrow and offered a half-smile. “You, Bale, are so right.”

Bale’s face turned pale white, even beneath the dark facemask, the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. Neveah was smart, and fun, and interesting, and exciting, and mysterious. She was also regularly in friendly spats with their mutual acquaintance and Bale had no interest in becoming the next source of ‘debate’.

“I think that might be…” She hesitated, hovering at the cusp of offence and self-defence. “Confusing for everyone involved, I wouldn’t want to offend Burr’Rad.” She allowed a slight sigh of relief to escape her lips, hopeful she had navigated the awkward moment.

 Disappointed and perhaps a little annoyed, Neveah’s haughty countenance cracked. “Lighten up, Bale. What’s he going to do, tell you to perform another apology dance? Have some fun for a change.”

“I can do fun!” Bale’s mind suddenly went blank; she used to be fun. She was confident she still was, most days at least. “I can’t come up with a specific example right now.”

They sat in silence for several seconds, a long moment of awkward tension lingering between the two as the nearby water fountains burbled, the trickles of water sniggering against Bale’s ears.