Sister Sara
"Well, clearly I'm not at home." Sylphie replied, rubbing the side of her face affectionately over Mako's shoulder. "I've been installed onto this ship's computer by that little kid."
Referencing Sapphire, Sylphie decided to use her otherworldy powers (aka, being a program in the ship's computer) to peer into the ship's head with her mind's eye. Quickly, she blushed and released the tiny Neko next to her, adding, "That kid is in the shower, doing organic things."
Before Sylph could clarify, Daziel entered the bay of Sister Sara with his trouser-sack slung over a shoulder and waved at the two of them as he deposited the bag next to his chair at the head of the conference table. "Well, hello, darlings!" Was the cheery greeting, followed by the executive approaching to plant his hands on his knees so he could lean closer to the two of them, smiling at Sylph. He'd already looked her up using his computerized brain and ascertained her full nature, however, nonetheless the recently revealed-to-be-Neko businessman played it dumb, kindly entreating her with a, "And who is this adorable little thing?"
Sylph blushed, and moved behind Mako again, peering over her shoulder to the executive with another blush, "I'm Sylph, a virtual assistant program." She answered softly, then asked, "You think I'm adorable?"
Daziel smiled even wider and stood again, this time headed for the kitchenette. "Of course you are, my dear girl! Now, come and assist me with dinner, you adorable virtual assistant, you!"
Elijah
Franklin snorted and lifted his flask to Alice before tilting it again for another sip.
"Well, I reckon the tentacle-humper thinks she done her job by killin' all them folks dead and emprisonerin' these here dumbshits. Don't break yer head over it, suger-britches." Franklin explained, trying to assuage the fears of the good doctor, "Hell, reckon the two of 'em did alright keepin' our skins on when the shit were serious. Ain't that right, Chickenshit?"
This last bit, Franklin added while snapping his fingers at Seiji, who'd been otherwise quiet in the corner of their end of the med-bay.
Meanwhile, Niel was doing a little assuaging of his own for Yori. "Ah, you're right. I gotta take a nap so I can come to this meeting or whatever's gonna happen in an hour. As for the M4, I think you'll handle it well enough. I mean, it was made during a different era for Yamataian military technology. A true piece of simple workmanship for what it is, especially when you look at the overdesigned garbage they use these days."
Seasons change, time passes by as the seconds become the minutes becomes the hour... at Sister Sara's conference table.
The meal that Daziel prepared was simply spectacular. While the man was by no means a professional chef, the rations on the ship were easy to prepare and an artful eye could make them especially presentable. Upon smooth white platters were all manners of decadent looking dish, a suptous boquet of textures, colors, and odors which enriched the nose of even the pickiest eater. Open faces sandwhiches of thick sliced chicken, onions, fine melted cheeses and perfectly-wilted greens sat next to generous helpings of bean salad and sliced fried turnips with crispy breading a golden brown which shone almost as a glow in light of Ake's afternoon sun streaming in from one end of the bay. On another platter, baked potatoes exploded from their skins-- slits of cloudy white velvet shiny with metled butter and silken dollops of soured cream. Further over, there was the massive tray of wiry pasta spirals gooped up in a smooth white cheese sauce, flanked on every side with a circle of thick, steaming tuna steaks which were blackened to perfection yet still pink and soft in the center. The seasonings for these foods had been chosen carefully for a gradient-like quality so that as one traversed the table they would find themselves traveling across the tongue from savory to sweet, and that such a journey would be one taken with the nose before the mouth to better educate meal choices. In the middle of these three platters was a fluffy crimson cylinder sprinkled with the soft snow of confectioner's sugar; a red velvet rollcake.
At the head of this freshly-served feast was Daziel, reclining with a book (How To Look Bad and Look Good Doing It: A Man's Guide to Being Impressive in The Work Place Without Losing His Humility, by Evelyn Cagliardi, NepPress, YE 06) and sipping from a steaming tea cup while Sylphie rested on his knee, simulating an adorable nap. As far as clocks go, this was all exactly four seconds before one hour had passed from Daziel's announcement of a meeting in one hour. The first person to arrive at the table was Niel, who wheeled himself in a wheelchair into the bay and resisted the urge to stop at the workbench and see what Yori'd done while he was napping. He pushed one of the rolling chairs out of his way with a passive palm and rolled up to the table, taking in the vastness of Daziel's spread with a look of awe.
"Looks nice, Mister Burton." He said, eyeing in particular the cheesy spirals which rested just out of his reach.
Daziel kept looking at his book, but was polite enough to respond with a subdued, "Not at all, I'm sure, dear fellow."
