boldygoing | Giving the Tour [for losthunter]

Entry tags:

hunter,
ic

Giving the Tour [for losthunter]

It has been a week or two since the Enterprise was in any kind of condition to entertain visitors. A supply run here, a survey mission there, nothing close to casual enough for Captain Kirk to justify setting aside a little time to have a guest aboard, his days taken up by the duties of command. And certainly not out in the middle of deep space, where an unexpected visitor would be more likely to be seen as a stowaway or intruder, no matter if the captain vouched for them or not.

But it has been six months since the crew's last chance for shore leave, so after the debriefings are complete, Starfleet Command gives the slightly weary crew a brief three days off while the ship's systems are inspected and recalibrated. And it's a perfect opportunity to make good on his offer from a while ago.

Jim sits at a shuttle terminal in downtown San Francisco, a gold-shirt in a small sea of red and blue, all Starfleet personnel waiting to be taken up to various starships in orbit or in Spacedock. He knows it might be a few minutes before Hunter arrives, and keeps himself busy reviewing reports on a padd, keeping an eye out for the distinctive tattoos of his invited guest.

[OOC: Image links to replace invalid links below:
Spacedock
USS Enterprise
Warp core
Officer's lounge]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

For Jim, having a familiar presence at his shoulder is second nature, comfortable and familiar. Granted, it's usually Bones or Spock, and Hunter's not in a Starfleet uniform, but it's close enough. And Jim leans back comfortably in the chair, wishing they were out in deep space, exploring the great unknown. "'For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream,'" he agrees, using another man's words yet again, finding the sentiment appropriate as ever.

Hunter glances down at Jim, smiling softly at the sight of him so comfortable in his chair. And he has to clasp his hands together, so he doesn't reach out to tussle his fingers through Jim's hair right now.

"Van Gough. An artist that I certainly admire. I considered myself quite fortunate to be invited to one of the galleries that had some of his works on display. And that they had asked me to contribute a piece to the general viewing area."

Jim swivels the chair a little to face more toward Hunter, looking up at him with interest. "What'd you submit?"

"A large canvas that depicted the bright green eyes of Kendra." Hunter purposely doesn't describe her as the witch right now. "They told me that it had an ethereal look. That one could get lost in her eyes."

Jim smiles a little. "So long as one can find their way back out again."

"That is very true." Hunter has to laugh softly. Due to Kendra's magic, there had been a experience of him actually being 'pulled' into her eyes, and seeing illusions of something that she wanted to tell him. But that story will wait for another time.

He looks around the control room again. Noting all the controls and the different people working at them, he assumes that must be how they fly the giant ship.

"You must have a great team."

"The best," Jim agrees, quiet but proud. "We're still hammering out a few personality conflicts but everyone's damn good at what they do, and I wouldn't trade a single crewman."

"Well those personality conflicts happen in any line of work." Hunter notes softly. It was also nice that so far, they haven't had anyone who really took a 'second look' at him. Hunter is used to people openly reacting with curiosity or surprise to see the prominent tattoos on his face.

"And I am sure none of them would ever trade you in."

Hunter will probably not get too many surprised looks at his appearance while he's here. While there will always be bigots of some kind, no matter where you go, citizens of the Federation as a whole are so used to encountering hundreds of alien species with all kinds of appearances that Hunter's markings barely even register. Any curious looks are more because he's a civilian among Starfleet officers.

Jim smiles a little at that. "When my field promotion was made permanent, over eighty percent of the crew requested assignment to Enterprise. That gives me the youngest crew in the fleet, but we've got that kind of bond you can't get any other way than trial by fire."

"I can't imagine that kind of bond." Hunter has friends, but he doesn't have that connection of people through his work. Sure, he knows most of the gallery owners, but there is no deep connection there.

"The youngest and the hottest crew?" He teases lightly.

"Oh, absolutely," Jim agrees instantly, grinning. "Record-breaking in age and gorgeous looks. Not that I picked my crew based on that or anything, it's just a bonus."

"Gorgeous enough to all be movie stars." Hunter winks playfully.

He is glad that he was able to see this for himself. Even though the ship isn't traveling through space right now, the experience is still one-of-a-kind for him. And especially getting to see Jim in his captain chair. He has a little bit more respect for the other man. And he can see the respect that his crew has for him too. The most amazing thing about Jim's job is that he gets to change destiny. He gets to explore the unknown and make great discoveries.

"Did I tell you that you are amazing?" His voice is soft. Loving.

Jim's glad he's had the chance to show off the Enterprise too. Sure, it might be a bit arrogant of him, but he's proud of his ship and his people, and he's happy to have the opportunity to see someone else appreciate them all.

"You did, but I can always stand to hear it again." He smiles a little, and stands. "Ready to continue the tour?" There is at least one more stop they have to make.

"Yeah..." Hunter takes one more look around the ship. There have been so many things that have inspired him today.

"I hope you saved the best for last." He smiled.

"Of course." Jim waggles his eyebrows slightly, before he turns towards the science station. "Spock, you have the conn."

Spock looks up, and nods. "Yes, captain. Enjoy your leave." He looks over at Hunter also, his face still nearly expressionless, as it usually is. "Enjoy your tour also, Hunter."

"Thank you..." Hunter nervously laughs. He is not used to seeing no expression on a person's face. Especially as a portrait artist, when it is those expressions that inspire new creations. "It was nice meeting you."

Spock inclines his head a little. "You as well."

Jim can tell that Hunter is nervous, though he can't tell if it's just because he's meeting an alien, or if it's because Spock is a Vulcan, particularly. He waits until they're in the turbolift to speak up about it, though, the lift speeding down to deck five. "You all right?"

Hunter runs a hand over his own head, nodding slightly. "My first time meeting someone who didn't show their emotions at all. His poker face must be killer."

"I study faces for a living. I use those little emotions to express myself in my art. And it just threw me a little."

He takes Jim's hands in his. "I hope I didn't make an ass out of myself."

Oh, well that makes sense. Jim squeezes Hunter's hands gently in his own. "No, you did just fine. He's a Vulcan; in their culture, logic is the most important thing, and showing emotion is seen as a lack of self-control. Most people think they plain old don't have 'em, but they do, it just takes a lot to get them to show it. Spock's only half-Vulcan, so I think he's tried to out-Vulcan the rest of his people to prove he fits in."

"I honestly couldn't tell if I was being weighed and judged, or not." Hunter shrugs his shoulders a little.

"You have a great connection with him. Just by non-verbal gestures, he knew what you wanted."

Jim pauses, replaying his memories of their brief interaction on the bridge. "Nah, he was just curious if we were serious or not. I've got a reputation for sharing a good night with all kinds of people, I just don't normally bring 'em home for a visit, you know?"

He's not surprised that Hunter picked up on the ease of communication between himself and Spock, though. "I'm pretty sure some of it's because of the mind meld with old Spock. Makes it easier to read him. And we've been running the bridge together for a year, so I've gotten practice figuring out what he's thinking."

Hunter arches an eyebrow at Jim's assessment of what Spock was curious about. Obviously their connection is quite strong for Jim to know exactly what was going on in the Vulcan's mind.

He isn't phased by the comment about Jim's reputation. And is a little flattered that Jim considered Hunter special enough to bring him to the control deck, when others had not been given the same invitation.

"Mind meld? Is that sort of like telepathy?"

The turbolift door opens, and Jim leads the way through the circular corridor, passing multiple doorways with name placards on them. "Yeah, Vulcans are touch-telepaths. Supposedly they can do longer-distance stuff too, but just with family or bondmates."

"So, my concern he was trying to read my mind was all in my head." Hunter chuckles.

Jim laughs out loud too. "Where else would it be?" he teases.

They don't have to walk very far before they reach a door whose nameplate reads JAMES T. KIRK, CAPTAIN. It slides open as it detects the assigned occupant's approach, revealing the captain's cabin.

Jim's quarters are comfortably spacious, divided into two sections by a half-wall. On one side, there is a desk equipped with a viewing monitor, currently powered down, and a chair that's bolted to the floor. This side of the room also holds a low table and a couple of chairs, a multi-level chessboard still displaying the end of a game in which the black king is checkmated. It's clearly the living area portion of the cabin, intended to entertain visitors or get work done while not on the bridge.

On the other side of the room, half-hidden behind the partial wall, is the captain's bunk, a relatively narrow mattress tightly fitted with gold and black sheets. A bedside table holds a few datapads and the bracelet Jim bought from Hunter, sitting on top of a dogeared copy of A Tale of Two Cities, its pages yellowed with age. A solid silver crate sits against one wall, presumably the one containing his collection of inherited books. The walls themselves are somewhat bare of decoration, though there is a transparent portion of the wall that leads to the outside.

There's another single door in the bedroom side of Jim's quarters, a small panel glowing green where a doorknob would be on an ordinary door, and a set of double-doors further along the wall.

"Home sweet home," Jim says with a smile.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject