"-That's my property! You can't just steal it, I-" Disaché is ushered out into the hallway by the firm hand of Lieutenant Commander H'litaj Tis, and as soon as they clear the doorway, the door swishes shut behind them, cutting off any more scathing words he might have for the medical officer who decided she could simply confiscate his research materials.
"This is absurd!" he shouts, his mane fluffing progressively further out of order with his irritation. He jerks away from the grip on his shoulder - or tries to, ow, ow. Okay, so maybe some of the fluffing is a threat response. "Don't touch me! I can walk on my own."
The hand on his shoulder lifts, and Lt. Commander Tis continues in her duty to 'show Mister Amenone to his new quarters' (aka 'Get him out of my Sick Bay he's giving me a headache'). It's not a long walk from Sick Bay to room 4E, but it's enough to bump into someone, especially with debris in some of the corridors and the turbolifts misbehaving.
Room 4E
This is supposed to be his room? It's so... small. And sparse. And- wait, are those multiple beds? Stacked on top of each other? Is he supposed to be sharing these tiny quarters?
"This must be a mistake," he says out loud.
Later
Disaché sits sulkily at the computer console in his room, belligerently sending complaints to the command staff and demanding personal meetings. He refuses to be treated like- like- like someone unimportant. Never mind that the captain and her officers are probably busy dealing with the fact that the ship's a mess, lost in space, and picking up mysterious passengers.
Observation
On Deck 7, Disaché has finally found something to not complain about. He stares silently out at the startlingly clear view of space. It's not a screen or a projection, but a legitimate window. He reaches out to touch the clear surface, and it feels... a lot like metal.
"Fascinating..."
IA ships don't have windows. The only human vessels he knows of with windows had thick blast shutters to protect them. There was nothing quite like this where he came from, and more than anything else - more than the talk of transporters, or nobody having heard of his species or the Istiff Alliance - this finally drives it home that he's, well, very very far from home.
Disaché | OC | OTA
"-That's my property! You can't just steal it, I-" Disaché is ushered out into the hallway by the firm hand of Lieutenant Commander H'litaj Tis, and as soon as they clear the doorway, the door swishes shut behind them, cutting off any more scathing words he might have for the medical officer who decided she could simply confiscate his research materials.
"This is absurd!" he shouts, his mane fluffing progressively further out of order with his irritation. He jerks away from the grip on his shoulder - or tries to, ow, ow. Okay, so maybe some of the fluffing is a threat response. "Don't touch me! I can walk on my own."
The hand on his shoulder lifts, and Lt. Commander Tis continues in her duty to 'show Mister Amenone to his new quarters' (aka 'Get him out of my Sick Bay he's giving me a headache'). It's not a long walk from Sick Bay to room 4E, but it's enough to bump into someone, especially with debris in some of the corridors and the turbolifts misbehaving.
Room 4E
This is supposed to be his room? It's so... small. And sparse. And- wait, are those multiple beds? Stacked on top of each other? Is he supposed to be sharing these tiny quarters?
"This must be a mistake," he says out loud.
Later
Disaché sits sulkily at the computer console in his room, belligerently sending complaints to the command staff and demanding personal meetings. He refuses to be treated like- like- like someone unimportant. Never mind that the captain and her officers are probably busy dealing with the fact that the ship's a mess, lost in space, and picking up mysterious passengers.
Observation
On Deck 7, Disaché has finally found something to not complain about. He stares silently out at the startlingly clear view of space. It's not a screen or a projection, but a legitimate window. He reaches out to touch the clear surface, and it feels... a lot like metal.
"Fascinating..."
IA ships don't have windows. The only human vessels he knows of with windows had thick blast shutters to protect them. There was nothing quite like this where he came from, and more than anything else - more than the talk of transporters, or nobody having heard of his species or the Istiff Alliance - this finally drives it home that he's, well, very very far from home.
Not that he really had any place he called home.