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Feb. 6th, 2013 01:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pointyspacepiratePamela hated being inactive.
She'd always been like that growing up. If she didn't have a project to work on she would make one. Her secretary had always commented that she was wound so tight that some day she'd snap in half. Pamela would just chuckle and remind the young man (Who she had hired based on his organizational skills second and his tight behind first) that idle hands weren't making anyone money.
But she was a long way from the corner office she had so proudly lorded over the board of directors in her company. A long way from those backstabbing, underhanded, sneaky, ruthless demons in suits who would fire their own mother, on her birthday, so long as it got them a little higher in the company.
Here her office was much smaller. It didn't have a window but it had an elaborate picture wall that could show her landscapes of many different planets with the push of a button. And instead of those immoral weasels that she herself had hired at some point to help her push her business to the top, these days she was working with decidedly more trustworthy and reasonable clients.
Pamela was the Business manager for a crew of Space Pirates.
Not just any Space Pirates either, but some of the most infamous Pirates in the galaxy. She had been kidnapped by them and forced into servitude by their captain. Captain Puck had long come to terms with the fact that while she was decent when it came to tactics, and her willpower was undeniable. But when it came to the finer points of organization, and financial management she was lacking. And while she was a proud woman she was also exceptionally greedy. In the end avarice won out and Puck agreed that Pamela was needed.
And so here she was at a job she never applied for and she felt herself falling into the same bad habits. Working till her eyes refused to focus. Standing up and feeling stiffness in her back and fingers. Her stomach felt like it was devouring itself. She'd missed dinner again. That in itself was a feat because the Ship's cook was VERY insistent on people eating well.
Pamela sighed and finished the last of her coffee. The liquid did little to fill her belly but the dark haired woman didn't want to confront the cook about why she hadn't come down to dinner. One thing would inevitably lead to another and then she'd be interrogating the cook about why she hadn't filled out a supply list for the kitchen.
Just as she was about to surrender to her hunger pains however there was a rapping on the door. Pamela froze and knew immediately who would be on the other side. He always was very precise about how he handled himself around her. Measured. Controlled. Everything down to the way he knocked on her office door when he knew she was working.
A burst of activity as she smoothed out her work clothes and switched the wall screen to a mirror so she could give herself a once over. To her dismay the hours of working at a computer screen had left her with dark circles under her eyes. The weeks in space were starting to have a toll on her complexion washing out the color. She felt decidedly drab and reflected that she would have never allowed herself to fall so far behind in personal upkeep. To let the board of directors see her like this would have been professional suicide. They would smell weakness. They would-
A sharper knock on he door snapped her back into the moment and she ran her fingers through her hair to try and tame it before switching the screen back to a landscape of a city skyline. He was getting impatient. But she smirked turning to the door, after the years she'd spent apart from him he could stand to wait another minute.
A third time and she finally opened the door from the button on her desk. A slender dark skinned elven man stepped into the room holding a box. As usual his suit was immaculate, crisp and clean without a stray hair or speck of dust. His hair was shiny with product but still looked as soft as silk. He had it combed into a pompadour which was painfully out of fashion on her planet but he assured her where he came from it was a sign of class and status.
"You missed dinner." He greeted her bluntly, his dark eyes burning into her. Appraising her.
"Hello to you to." She shot back and turned her gaze from his eyes to the paperwork she'd last written. "Unlike some people around here I have alot of work to do. I figured I could have something later."
A cheap shot but she wasn't on her game yet. He was the weapons specialist for the ship so his duties were no where near as constant and demanding as her own. Instead he filled his time with with a strict training and meditation regimen which left him with a trim and fit form that she could admire through his custom tailored suit.
He sniffed in disdain and placed the box ontop of her papers. It was shiny and black lacquered box tied with a gold thread. She turned her best piercing gaze on him but he deflected it easily by turning his head and pretending to admire a plant that one of the crew had given her as a welcoming gift.
Abandoning her efforts to set his hair on fire with her mind she undid the strings from the box and lifted the lid revealing a packed meal of rice, some unidentifiable form of meat in a tantalizing smelling glaze, some fresh chopped vegetables and two stuffed dumplings. It wasn't the standard takeaway meal that the ships cook would prepare which led to her questioning him. "You made me Dinner?"
Turning his unimpressed gaze back to her he spoke barely moving his lips but somehow his voice came out clear and dry as a bone left in the desert. "You always allow busywork to distract you from what's really important. If you starve yourself you're useless to the crew. And the Captain does not suffer useless people."
Despite the manner he had responded she couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth starting in her chest and spreading to her limbs. Rather then argue with him she took the chopsticks he had supplied in the box and began to eat. After the first few bites he took a seat across the desk from her watching her eat as though he was sure the moment he left she'd stop and go back to work. She paused to reach into the cupboard behind her and draw out a pair of glasses. Nothing as ornate as the crystal she had in her old office but they would do. She set them down on the desk and waited patiently.
He glanced at the glasses then to her, refusing to acknowledge her silent request as long as he could. But the staring contest could only last so long before he sighed and begrudgingly drew a flash out from the inside pocket of his jacket. From it a liquid the color of tree bark flowed into each glass and she smiled appreciatively. Then she pretended not to notice how her smile made his dark cheeks burn darker.
The two silently toasted their respective glasses and sipped while she continued her enforced meal. Once the box was picked clean she placed the lid back in place.
"It was very good." A measured compliment. She couldn't afford to give him too much. They had too much history between them for her to completely forgive him. He was the whole reason she had been stolen away from her comfortable fast paced life and dragged out into the darkest parts of space to work for known criminals.
"I know." He answered in that solid self assured manner. "Don't make a habit of it. You're expected to socialize on occasion or the crew will force themselves upon you." While his words sounded dire and threatening she knew the truth to be they would simply drag her away from her work to play silly games and participate in whatever foolish time wasting non-sense the less focused members of the crew had come up with.
He rose from the chair after draining what was left in his glass, apparently having said all he was willing to say. But something caused Pamela to reach out and take hold of the cuff of his jacket. It stopped him and he turned to look down at her in her seat. A single perfectly groomed eyebrow rose questioningly. A hint of annoyance flashed in those dark eyes. He had not planned for this, could not predict what she had in mind.
She rose from her seat till she was eye level with him. "Thank you." It was a moment of letting down her walls. An unplanned moment that even surprised her. Maybe it was the satisfaction of a full stomach, or the hum of alcohol melting away the tension in her muscles. But it felt...necessary.
Yes...yes it was simply protocol wasn't it? She wasn't going to forgive him so quickly. Not over a simple boxed dinner and some booze.
His face was placid, questioning. He was trying to figure out her motive for the gratitude. It was like they were playing a game of chess and she'd sacrificed one of her pieces, but he couldn't predict how it would benefit her in the long run. When he became frustrated in trying to find the deeper meaning in the words he responded with a very simple, "You're welcome."
And there it was. The two of them in this little office. Barely a closet compared to the sheer size of the ship. It gaze a feeling of isolation, like they were the only two living beings in this little four walled universe. Outside that door was a vast emptiness. But here they had each other and what felt like a lifetime of memories. Painful memories.
What else was there to say? A list of suggestions ran through Pamela's mind like a scrolling news feed but nothing seemed right. While he was a man of few words she could tell he too was seeking out just the right sentence that would put him on top in this unspoken competition.
Finally she released his sleeve and they stood in silence for another awkward moment. The energy in the room had gone from stifling to barely a pulse. "You can keep the box." He broke the silence with a sentence that landed with all the grace and dignity of a file cabinet falling over. It made her cheeks burn and she snapped back with "What a gracious gift. I shall treasure it forever."
That was enough to have the walls go back up. He nodded, and stepped to the door sliding it open. As he stepped through it Pamela felt a pang of loss. A dull ache in her chest. The same dull ache she had lived with for years after they separated. Having forgotten it in the brief time she had been on the ship it stung that much sharper in return.
Before he closed the door he spoke once more, barely audible but she caught it all the same.
"Don't stay up too late. It's bad for your health."
And the door was closed and he was gone. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and sank back into her tall backed executive chair. Suddenly the heat from the alcohol seemed to overwhelm her and she undid the first couple buttons on her blouse.
"Damn that man." she muttered to herself closing her eyes. All the tension and stiffness from working was gone and replaced by a tangle, a tightness in her stomach. She knew now that no more work would be accomplished tonight.
So what could she do to be productive? She was loath to let the night pass by while she idled. But her mind was far from her actual job.
Instead it was following the dark skinned, well dressed man back to his quarters. It was carefully and meticulously undressing him and guiding Pamela into a fantasy she had refused to indulge herself with for at least a year.
Deafening silence filled her office. And with another muttered curse she surrendered to these thoughts. With the push of a button her office door locked.
The lights dimmed.
And leaning back in her chair she closed her eyes to draw forth memories of a time she had lied to herself about. Times that she claimed she'd forgotten. The two of them under the stars. Together in every sense of the word. Not competing. Completing one another. Perhaps she dared even to dream that they could have that again.
There in the darkness Pamela allowed the fantasy to free her and give way to emotions she had left inactive for so long.
Because Pamela hated being inactive.
She'd always been like that growing up. If she didn't have a project to work on she would make one. Her secretary had always commented that she was wound so tight that some day she'd snap in half. Pamela would just chuckle and remind the young man (Who she had hired based on his organizational skills second and his tight behind first) that idle hands weren't making anyone money.
But she was a long way from the corner office she had so proudly lorded over the board of directors in her company. A long way from those backstabbing, underhanded, sneaky, ruthless demons in suits who would fire their own mother, on her birthday, so long as it got them a little higher in the company.
Here her office was much smaller. It didn't have a window but it had an elaborate picture wall that could show her landscapes of many different planets with the push of a button. And instead of those immoral weasels that she herself had hired at some point to help her push her business to the top, these days she was working with decidedly more trustworthy and reasonable clients.
Pamela was the Business manager for a crew of Space Pirates.
Not just any Space Pirates either, but some of the most infamous Pirates in the galaxy. She had been kidnapped by them and forced into servitude by their captain. Captain Puck had long come to terms with the fact that while she was decent when it came to tactics, and her willpower was undeniable. But when it came to the finer points of organization, and financial management she was lacking. And while she was a proud woman she was also exceptionally greedy. In the end avarice won out and Puck agreed that Pamela was needed.
And so here she was at a job she never applied for and she felt herself falling into the same bad habits. Working till her eyes refused to focus. Standing up and feeling stiffness in her back and fingers. Her stomach felt like it was devouring itself. She'd missed dinner again. That in itself was a feat because the Ship's cook was VERY insistent on people eating well.
Pamela sighed and finished the last of her coffee. The liquid did little to fill her belly but the dark haired woman didn't want to confront the cook about why she hadn't come down to dinner. One thing would inevitably lead to another and then she'd be interrogating the cook about why she hadn't filled out a supply list for the kitchen.
Just as she was about to surrender to her hunger pains however there was a rapping on the door. Pamela froze and knew immediately who would be on the other side. He always was very precise about how he handled himself around her. Measured. Controlled. Everything down to the way he knocked on her office door when he knew she was working.
A burst of activity as she smoothed out her work clothes and switched the wall screen to a mirror so she could give herself a once over. To her dismay the hours of working at a computer screen had left her with dark circles under her eyes. The weeks in space were starting to have a toll on her complexion washing out the color. She felt decidedly drab and reflected that she would have never allowed herself to fall so far behind in personal upkeep. To let the board of directors see her like this would have been professional suicide. They would smell weakness. They would-
A sharper knock on he door snapped her back into the moment and she ran her fingers through her hair to try and tame it before switching the screen back to a landscape of a city skyline. He was getting impatient. But she smirked turning to the door, after the years she'd spent apart from him he could stand to wait another minute.
A third time and she finally opened the door from the button on her desk. A slender dark skinned elven man stepped into the room holding a box. As usual his suit was immaculate, crisp and clean without a stray hair or speck of dust. His hair was shiny with product but still looked as soft as silk. He had it combed into a pompadour which was painfully out of fashion on her planet but he assured her where he came from it was a sign of class and status.
"You missed dinner." He greeted her bluntly, his dark eyes burning into her. Appraising her.
"Hello to you to." She shot back and turned her gaze from his eyes to the paperwork she'd last written. "Unlike some people around here I have alot of work to do. I figured I could have something later."
A cheap shot but she wasn't on her game yet. He was the weapons specialist for the ship so his duties were no where near as constant and demanding as her own. Instead he filled his time with with a strict training and meditation regimen which left him with a trim and fit form that she could admire through his custom tailored suit.
He sniffed in disdain and placed the box ontop of her papers. It was shiny and black lacquered box tied with a gold thread. She turned her best piercing gaze on him but he deflected it easily by turning his head and pretending to admire a plant that one of the crew had given her as a welcoming gift.
Abandoning her efforts to set his hair on fire with her mind she undid the strings from the box and lifted the lid revealing a packed meal of rice, some unidentifiable form of meat in a tantalizing smelling glaze, some fresh chopped vegetables and two stuffed dumplings. It wasn't the standard takeaway meal that the ships cook would prepare which led to her questioning him. "You made me Dinner?"
Turning his unimpressed gaze back to her he spoke barely moving his lips but somehow his voice came out clear and dry as a bone left in the desert. "You always allow busywork to distract you from what's really important. If you starve yourself you're useless to the crew. And the Captain does not suffer useless people."
Despite the manner he had responded she couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth starting in her chest and spreading to her limbs. Rather then argue with him she took the chopsticks he had supplied in the box and began to eat. After the first few bites he took a seat across the desk from her watching her eat as though he was sure the moment he left she'd stop and go back to work. She paused to reach into the cupboard behind her and draw out a pair of glasses. Nothing as ornate as the crystal she had in her old office but they would do. She set them down on the desk and waited patiently.
He glanced at the glasses then to her, refusing to acknowledge her silent request as long as he could. But the staring contest could only last so long before he sighed and begrudgingly drew a flash out from the inside pocket of his jacket. From it a liquid the color of tree bark flowed into each glass and she smiled appreciatively. Then she pretended not to notice how her smile made his dark cheeks burn darker.
The two silently toasted their respective glasses and sipped while she continued her enforced meal. Once the box was picked clean she placed the lid back in place.
"It was very good." A measured compliment. She couldn't afford to give him too much. They had too much history between them for her to completely forgive him. He was the whole reason she had been stolen away from her comfortable fast paced life and dragged out into the darkest parts of space to work for known criminals.
"I know." He answered in that solid self assured manner. "Don't make a habit of it. You're expected to socialize on occasion or the crew will force themselves upon you." While his words sounded dire and threatening she knew the truth to be they would simply drag her away from her work to play silly games and participate in whatever foolish time wasting non-sense the less focused members of the crew had come up with.
He rose from the chair after draining what was left in his glass, apparently having said all he was willing to say. But something caused Pamela to reach out and take hold of the cuff of his jacket. It stopped him and he turned to look down at her in her seat. A single perfectly groomed eyebrow rose questioningly. A hint of annoyance flashed in those dark eyes. He had not planned for this, could not predict what she had in mind.
She rose from her seat till she was eye level with him. "Thank you." It was a moment of letting down her walls. An unplanned moment that even surprised her. Maybe it was the satisfaction of a full stomach, or the hum of alcohol melting away the tension in her muscles. But it felt...necessary.
Yes...yes it was simply protocol wasn't it? She wasn't going to forgive him so quickly. Not over a simple boxed dinner and some booze.
His face was placid, questioning. He was trying to figure out her motive for the gratitude. It was like they were playing a game of chess and she'd sacrificed one of her pieces, but he couldn't predict how it would benefit her in the long run. When he became frustrated in trying to find the deeper meaning in the words he responded with a very simple, "You're welcome."
And there it was. The two of them in this little office. Barely a closet compared to the sheer size of the ship. It gaze a feeling of isolation, like they were the only two living beings in this little four walled universe. Outside that door was a vast emptiness. But here they had each other and what felt like a lifetime of memories. Painful memories.
What else was there to say? A list of suggestions ran through Pamela's mind like a scrolling news feed but nothing seemed right. While he was a man of few words she could tell he too was seeking out just the right sentence that would put him on top in this unspoken competition.
Finally she released his sleeve and they stood in silence for another awkward moment. The energy in the room had gone from stifling to barely a pulse. "You can keep the box." He broke the silence with a sentence that landed with all the grace and dignity of a file cabinet falling over. It made her cheeks burn and she snapped back with "What a gracious gift. I shall treasure it forever."
That was enough to have the walls go back up. He nodded, and stepped to the door sliding it open. As he stepped through it Pamela felt a pang of loss. A dull ache in her chest. The same dull ache she had lived with for years after they separated. Having forgotten it in the brief time she had been on the ship it stung that much sharper in return.
Before he closed the door he spoke once more, barely audible but she caught it all the same.
"Don't stay up too late. It's bad for your health."
And the door was closed and he was gone. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and sank back into her tall backed executive chair. Suddenly the heat from the alcohol seemed to overwhelm her and she undid the first couple buttons on her blouse.
"Damn that man." she muttered to herself closing her eyes. All the tension and stiffness from working was gone and replaced by a tangle, a tightness in her stomach. She knew now that no more work would be accomplished tonight.
So what could she do to be productive? She was loath to let the night pass by while she idled. But her mind was far from her actual job.
Instead it was following the dark skinned, well dressed man back to his quarters. It was carefully and meticulously undressing him and guiding Pamela into a fantasy she had refused to indulge herself with for at least a year.
Deafening silence filled her office. And with another muttered curse she surrendered to these thoughts. With the push of a button her office door locked.
The lights dimmed.
And leaning back in her chair she closed her eyes to draw forth memories of a time she had lied to herself about. Times that she claimed she'd forgotten. The two of them under the stars. Together in every sense of the word. Not competing. Completing one another. Perhaps she dared even to dream that they could have that again.
There in the darkness Pamela allowed the fantasy to free her and give way to emotions she had left inactive for so long.
Because Pamela hated being inactive.
