After Mission One Before Mission Two

[KendleRJ]

Nav smiled, the whisper of it crossing her lips. "Of course, Lieutenant," she said, and sent it to the Chief complete with her recommendations right that moment. She was sure that the work she'd outlined would be assigned elsewhere, and that she would be relegated to the tedium that she knew was coming. At least there had been the heady rush of planning. "Consider it done."

Her head was buzzing with some beer, and she really felt the need to do... something. She gave a last look at TK; stern, stoic and distant. "Enjoy the party, Lieutenant," she said, and picked up the last two bottles off the table. "Here. I had a few extra."

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"You have a good night then."

It seemed that the party was destined for blandness... until she turned around and ducked flying buffet table bits and watched with the horribly slow motion that was brought on by a mixture of liquor and adrenaline... "Keth?"

Her voice was quiet... shock on her face and in her posture. Until sausages pelted her in a rain of mini meat monstrosities. "Keth?" she said, louder as she watched the supersonic unravelling of a massive kitty... She turned slowly back to TK, and had a feeling that this was going to be very, very bad...

Why though did she have the overwhelming urge to giggle?

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[T-Prime]

[Sjet]

"KKkkkkkeeeeettthhhhh????"

Well thats how it sounded to Keth's ears. He'd watched as the small cocktail suasages had flown through the air in slow motion, and then exploded in small meaty eruptions against the walls and Nav. Why hadn't she just moved out of the way of the really slow moving projectiles? And why was she talking in such a slow and steady tone of voice, stretching out each syllable painfully. Keth looked over his shoulder, and saw that McGuffin was still rolling across the floor and sending people flying in small arcs.

Something was very, very wrong with everyone. Now Keth wasn't a scientist, in fact if all truth was known he wasn't much of anything really. In fact he was a poet, and a little bit of a song writer on the side but that was more a hobby. His medical training for when he joined Starfleet was more for his own knowledge base, and because humans tended to have a lot of accidents around him it made sense to know how to put them back together again. That had been a lot of fun, but also incredibly boring. But now he wished he'd studied the sciences or something, because this slow motion dance party was getting weird.

And now amounts of half minded haiku's would going to save him.

Keth slowly reached out to hold Nav's shoulders to keep her calm...

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Keth lunged forward, eyes so dilated he looked like a Japanese anime character having a aneurysm. His grip was as gently as could be expected, and the dislocation that should have happened never did fortunately as he began to speak. Well he tried to speak, a lot of the words were said in a sort of slurred flurry of words, and every now and then the universal translator just gave up and what came across was a chirpping chorus of purs and high pitched growls. One such growl caused a drinks glass to shatter, sending a delicious single malt to the floor.

But the gist of the clearly excitable, and utterly terrified Keth was thus: Time dilation, black holes, tractor beam equipped cocktail snacks, human levitation, TK's toupee, and something to do with the price of rice in China. All of this got through the mix of English, Huanni, and a metric crap ton of spittle that just went to show the Huanni say it and spray it with equal abanddon.

TAG-Party goers: man the life boats.

Ensign Keth Soban
One Man Red Shirt Killer
USS Legacy

[KendleRJ]

Nav was held immobile in an iron grip, her feeble human reflexes that she had thought were better than most, and had already been tested before with the Huanni, had looked like a drunken attempt at avoidance. She was held, staring at Keth as he coated her in a thin layer of his own saliva. She was wide-eyed, unsure as to what to do, so instead grabbed his face and turned him to look at her. His eyes were rolling, discombobulated round dinner plates, pupils dialated as though he were drunk. Or stoned. Or... both. If he didn't wind down soon, there would be more mayhem, murder and complete insanity... and Ensign Keth Soban, newly recruited to Security, might ever remain on the wrong side of the security shielding.

He was afraid; that was clear, so Nav did what she thought was right, and spoke clearly enough for him to hopefully hear and understand her. "Keth," she said, trying to break into the unending stream of consciousness. "Keth!" she said again, louder this time, watching his focus slide over her like a dog on skates. "Slower... speak much slower," she said, unable to match his own rapid speech pattern, and instead tried to keep her voice soothing and low. Her hand went slowly to his head, and she began petting it, like she would have done had it been his much smaller counterpart back on Earth.

"Calmly," she said. "Take deep, even breaths," all the while her hand moving with a gentle rhythm, despite her shoulders in his near iron grip. She had no idea what would happen next, and hoped that more appetizers wouldn't be involved as miniature weapons to be hurled at fellow crewmen. Those sausage rolls with toothpicks would hurt like a... well, she didn't relish anyone wearing them like a meaty pastry pin cushion...

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[T-Prime]

There it is. TK observed to himself. As benign as the hug may have been intended, it was still technically assault, and with Keth's current mental state things had a high possibility of going down hill very fast.

With an almost inhuman degree of accuracy, given the poor ballistics of the projectile, the contents of TK's mug found itself splashed directly in Keth's face. He had debated throwing the mug as well, but decided that shards of broken glass could in no way improve the situation.

TK hesitated for just an instant to see how Keth would respond to the tactical delivery of the alcoholic beverage before pressing the attack.