Folding his casual clothes neatly in a drawer, Lester changed into his work clothes, which made him look like a refugee from a coal mine. Work in the engine room had ruined more pairs of pants than Lester cared to replace, and he was forced to come up with a system that was easier on his wardrobe, or come to terms with the idea of living with a film of grease over every item of clothing he owned. Careful to seal and lock the door to his bunk behind him, Lester took the short distance to the engine room at a trot. If Eli was still set on hunting down Fluffy, Lester didn't want to get caught in the hallway and conscripted into the posse.
At the same time, Mansi slipped out of her room. She was feeling restless for some reason, edgy, and wasn't sure why... No, wait. She knew. It was that bastardly, frog-humping hundan that took Bianca, and this stupidly slow way of setting about to rescue her. She locked her bunk and turned, intending to head to the exercise room to start her daily exercise routine when she saw Lester. Her jaw tightened, but she went on her way anyway.
Lester slipped into the engine room and closed the door behind him, so he could turn up the volume on his music without drawing heat from Eli. As he grabbed a wrench and shuffled under the engine, Lester reflected on how most of the things he did lately were done with the goal of avoiding Eli's wrath--not because he had any fear of the captain. Eli was, after all, an overgrown schoolyard bully with a spaceship, and like all bullies, they fold under the right kind of pressure. Lester preferred not to antagonize him needlessly because dealing with Eli was more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps, he concluded, it was time to explore other employment.
Mansi paused outside the engine room. She'd taken a detour, with only a vague purpose in mind. All she knew was, she didn't like tiptoeing around people, or the silent treatment or any of that roundabout nonsense. No, her way was more the I'm-gonna-scream-in-your-face-and-maybe-punch-you sort of way, after which she was usually perfectly amiable.
Not that she was looking to punch Lester. Not really. She knocked.
"Come on in!" he shouted over the booming crescendo of Beethoven's Ninth.
Mansi slipped the door open. "You got taste, I'll hand you that," she said a little loudly in order to be heard.
"Thank you," Lester said from his position under the engine. "You can turn it down if it's a bother to you."
Mansi turned it down. It wasn't a bother, but loud music rarely left room for conversation, volume-wise. She stood there for a moment, arms crossed. She wasn't going to talk to a turning engine.
Lester's arm appeared and reached blindly for a ratchet. "Is there something you need?"
"Yeah."
He waited to hear what that was, still reaching for the tool.
Mansi knelt and pushed it towards him. "Workin' together's gonna be a chore if we keep ignorin' each other like this wouldn't you say?"
Lester took hold of the wrench but didn't pull it under the engine right away. He was silent for a moment, considering this piece of information. "We're ignoring each other? I wasn't aware."
Mansi briefly considered taking the wrench from him and hitting him over the head with it. She took a deep breath instead. "Never mind," she said shortly, her tone cutting, and stood up to go.
Lester slid out from under the engine and sat up. "Who's walking out on the conversation now?"
Mansi turned back, her eyes hard. The nerve! "Oh, so you can do it, but I can't?"
"Yes," he replied, deadpan. "It's part of my cunning plan to piss you off by comforting you after a very bad day, and then giving you some space. Clearly, my diabolical plot came to fruition."
She stepped closer. "You. Walked. Out. On. Me. There was no politeness involved." His words had softened her some, however.
"You didn't ask me to stay." Lester wiped the grease off his hands with a rag.
"You didn't give me time," Mansi retorted.
"Forgive me for not psychically deducing that leaving a room would completely destroy our friendship."
Mansi raised an eyebrow. "Going a bit overboard, ain't ya? Who said anything about friendship destroyed?"
"I'm not the one seeking someone out to upbraid them for walking out of a room prematurely."
Mansi sighed and took a step backward. "Fine." A pause. She bit her lip. "It was just--" She shook her head. "You know what? Forget it." She attempted a little smile to show that she was letting it go. She mentally shrugged. It wouldn't kill her to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Lester stood up and tossed the greasy rag over an exposed pipe. "It's just that what?"
She shot him a sideways glance. She opened her mouth and closed it. Even in her head it sounded whiny. "Eli did the same. Just before you did." She said it as matter-of-factly as she could.
"Eli's a hundan," he replied matter-of-factly.
She smirked, "That make you one, too?"
"Eli's rudeness is usually premeditated. I'm guilty of not reading your mind correctly. I promise never to do it again." Lester reached into a storage unit and pulled out a canteen. He took several long swallows.
Well, now. She gave him a genuine smile this time, "Xie xie, Lester."
"Anytime," he said, although he had no idea what she was thanking him for.
He was a dear man, this Lester. Mansi leaned forward to plant a kiss on the cheek.
Clearing his throat, Lester shuffled backward a bit awkwardly, out of range. "I should..." He scratched the back of his head. "You know, get back to work."
Mansi rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a prude. It's just a kiss. Ain't like I'm askin' you to sleep with me." A beat, "Although, you know..." Inside her head, she was laughing.
"I'm not being prudish. I'm just..." Lester held his hands out with a two foot gap between them. "Platonic space."
"Lester. That is prudish."
"Just don't want you to get the wrong idea. Which is something I have a knack of giving to you."
Mansi's eyebrow shot up, "Were you the one givin' me a kiss on the cheek? And while we're at it, didn't you never learn that a kiss on the cheek is platonic?" She was mildly irritated, mostly because there was a vague implication that she was throwing herself at him; and also because she couldn't believe they were having a conversation on the finer points of kissing.
"Buddha on a dirt bike!" he groaned in Mandarin. "I give up. From now on, all conversations to you will be submitted in writing to prevent confusion."
"Too much paperwork." She stepped forward and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek, then turned to leave, all in one move, so as to not give him time to react. "Get over it."
"Is that an order?"
"If it helps, yeah."
"Then run off and tell Eli I'm being mutinous. Because I'm not gonna." Lester turned his back to her and picked an engine part off the floor.
Mansi rolled her eyes again, "Suit yourself," she said, and headed out. The exercise room had waited long enough.
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Folding his casual clothes neatly in a drawer, Lester changed into his work clothes, which made him look like a refugee from a coal mine. Work in the engine room had ruined more pairs of pants than Lester cared to replace, and he was forced to come up with a system that was easier on his wardrobe, or come to terms with the idea of living with a film of grease over every item of clothing he owned. Careful to seal and lock the door to his bunk behind him, Lester took the short distance to the engine room at a trot. If Eli was still set on hunting down Fluffy, Lester didn't want to get caught in the hallway and conscripted into the posse.
At the same time, Mansi slipped out of her room. She was feeling restless for some reason, edgy, and wasn't sure why... No, wait. She knew. It was that bastardly, frog-humping hundan that took Bianca, and this stupidly slow way of setting about to rescue her. She locked her bunk and turned, intending to head to the exercise room to start her daily exercise routine when she saw Lester. Her jaw tightened, but she went on her way anyway.
Lester slipped into the engine room and closed the door behind him, so he could turn up the volume on his music without drawing heat from Eli. As he grabbed a wrench and shuffled under the engine, Lester reflected on how most of the things he did lately were done with the goal of avoiding Eli's wrath--not because he had any fear of the captain. Eli was, after all, an overgrown schoolyard bully with a spaceship, and like all bullies, they fold under the right kind of pressure. Lester preferred not to antagonize him needlessly because dealing with Eli was more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps, he concluded, it was time to explore other employment.
Mansi paused outside the engine room. She'd taken a detour, with only a vague purpose in mind. All she knew was, she didn't like tiptoeing around people, or the silent treatment or any of that roundabout nonsense. No, her way was more the I'm-gonna-scream-in-your-face-and-maybe-punch-you sort of way, after which she was usually perfectly amiable.
Not that she was looking to punch Lester. Not really. She knocked.
"Come on in!" he shouted over the booming crescendo of Beethoven's Ninth.
Mansi slipped the door open. "You got taste, I'll hand you that," she said a little loudly in order to be heard.
"Thank you," Lester said from his position under the engine. "You can turn it down if it's a bother to you."
Mansi turned it down. It wasn't a bother, but loud music rarely left room for conversation, volume-wise. She stood there for a moment, arms crossed. She wasn't going to talk to a turning engine.
Lester's arm appeared and reached blindly for a ratchet. "Is there something you need?"
"Yeah."
He waited to hear what that was, still reaching for the tool.
Mansi knelt and pushed it towards him. "Workin' together's gonna be a chore if we keep ignorin' each other like this wouldn't you say?"
Lester took hold of the wrench but didn't pull it under the engine right away. He was silent for a moment, considering this piece of information. "We're ignoring each other? I wasn't aware."
Mansi briefly considered taking the wrench from him and hitting him over the head with it. She took a deep breath instead. "Never mind," she said shortly, her tone cutting, and stood up to go.
Lester slid out from under the engine and sat up. "Who's walking out on the conversation now?"
Mansi turned back, her eyes hard. The nerve! "Oh, so you can do it, but I can't?"
"Yes," he replied, deadpan. "It's part of my cunning plan to piss you off by comforting you after a very bad day, and then giving you some space. Clearly, my diabolical plot came to fruition."
She stepped closer. "You. Walked. Out. On. Me. There was no politeness involved." His words had softened her some, however.
"You didn't ask me to stay." Lester wiped the grease off his hands with a rag.
"You didn't give me time," Mansi retorted.
"Forgive me for not psychically deducing that leaving a room would completely destroy our friendship."
Mansi raised an eyebrow. "Going a bit overboard, ain't ya? Who said anything about friendship destroyed?"
"I'm not the one seeking someone out to upbraid them for walking out of a room prematurely."
Mansi sighed and took a step backward. "Fine." A pause. She bit her lip. "It was just--" She shook her head. "You know what? Forget it." She attempted a little smile to show that she was letting it go. She mentally shrugged. It wouldn't kill her to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Lester stood up and tossed the greasy rag over an exposed pipe. "It's just that what?"
She shot him a sideways glance. She opened her mouth and closed it. Even in her head it sounded whiny. "Eli did the same. Just before you did." She said it as matter-of-factly as she could.
"Eli's a hundan," he replied matter-of-factly.
She smirked, "That make you one, too?"
"Eli's rudeness is usually premeditated. I'm guilty of not reading your mind correctly. I promise never to do it again." Lester reached into a storage unit and pulled out a canteen. He took several long swallows.
Well, now. She gave him a genuine smile this time, "Xie xie, Lester."
"Anytime," he said, although he had no idea what she was thanking him for.
He was a dear man, this Lester. Mansi leaned forward to plant a kiss on the cheek.
Clearing his throat, Lester shuffled backward a bit awkwardly, out of range. "I should..." He scratched the back of his head. "You know, get back to work."
Mansi rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a prude. It's just a kiss. Ain't like I'm askin' you to sleep with me." A beat, "Although, you know..." Inside her head, she was laughing.
"I'm not being prudish. I'm just..." Lester held his hands out with a two foot gap between them. "Platonic space."
"Lester. That is prudish."
"Just don't want you to get the wrong idea. Which is something I have a knack of giving to you."
Mansi's eyebrow shot up, "Were you the one givin' me a kiss on the cheek? And while we're at it, didn't you never learn that a kiss on the cheek is platonic?" She was mildly irritated, mostly because there was a vague implication that she was throwing herself at him; and also because she couldn't believe they were having a conversation on the finer points of kissing.
"Buddha on a dirt bike!" he groaned in Mandarin. "I give up. From now on, all conversations to you will be submitted in writing to prevent confusion."
"Too much paperwork." She stepped forward and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek, then turned to leave, all in one move, so as to not give him time to react. "Get over it."
"Is that an order?"
"If it helps, yeah."
"Then run off and tell Eli I'm being mutinous. Because I'm not gonna." Lester turned his back to her and picked an engine part off the floor.
Mansi rolled her eyes again, "Suit yourself," she said, and headed out. The exercise room had waited long enough.
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