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Lt Commander Foster - Pin The Tail

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OOC: I was trying to figure out which quotes were my favourite and realised I just love this entire sim.  Wyn is hilarious and cute.  My favourite miniature Andorian doctor!




((Virixis IV))

He was laying in a hammock.

He liked hammocks.  His dad had a hammock back in Pepperel, which he had expressly told Wyn to not ‘play around in’ and therefore it was exactly Wyn’s favorite thing to play around in.

They were also tremendously comfy.

He was sitting there, half drowsing, half awake, just enjoying the calm of the day and petting Triberius, because of course he could get a pet sitter for all of his tribbles, but this stupid little monster snuck into his bag.  Besides, it was a strange little hybrid and he didn’t trust anyone else to tend it.  So here the tribblecat was.

He was purring contentedly in the sunlight, proof positive that he could be an angel at times as much as he could be a monster, like any good feline creature.  Generally those times coincided with when he was asleep.  He had pushed Wyn to a near sleep state, but Wyn’s ever empty stomach was keeping him awake.  He should go get dinner, but he was comfortable here and Triberius was purring.  It was a terrible conundrum…

DeVeau: =/\=Wyn?=/\=

He recognized the voice on the other end.  Alora.  And her tone was wavering, filled with pain.  He shot up from his hammock as if jolted with electricity.  Triberius protested loudly.

Foster: =/\= Alora, what’s wrong? =/\=

Immediate doctor mode engaged.  He was on his feet and Triberius was being hauled back into to his very cushy habitat.  Of course how could he have a habitat if he snuck into Wyn’s things?  It might have been a planned sneaking.  An allowed sneaking even.

Not important right now if someone was in pain.  His antennae curled forward listening for more clues.

DeVeau: =/\=Can you come? Please?=/\=

Foster: =/\= what’s wrong? =/\=

Immediately searching for more information as he grabbed a medkit.  Triberius made his dismay known by farting noxiously in Wyn’s direction before fluffing a new bed with a haughty huff.

DeVeau: ::Swallowing.::  =/\=It’s...it’s classfied.  Please...come?=/\=

Oh no.  Not that.  That was the thing she contacted his Dad about.  Crap.  He started to gather his things, stuffed them in a bag and hustled.

Foster: =/\= I’ll be right there. =/\=

He located her from her commsignal and rushed out of his room, hair mussed, white button down and jeans – hardly decent doctor’s attire, but it would have to do.  With any luck there would not be any blood, but whenever was he lucky?

Out of the resort proper and into the pathways that led to the cabins.  He was quick on his feet from too many nights of running to forget his nightmares.  And running because he liked it.  And running because it was good exercise.  There were many reason to run.  This was one of them.  He wasn’t even out of breath when he came to the darkened, cabin.

His antennae twitched.


Popcorn?  French fries?

He almost was suspicious.  Almost.  He was trying oh so very hard to train himself to not be paranoid.  He was not paranoid. 

He was a little paranoid.

Still, he opened the door, medical bag slung across his shoulders and let his antennae do the sensing.

Oh no, something was up.

Foster: … Alora?

He called out halfway between a fully innocent lamb that had totally and completely fallen for it and a paranoid grumpy twit who was starting to suspect something was up.

The lights came on and he instinctively took a step back, shielding his eyes.  But they were mercifully dim as they popped on but didn’t flare.  Rue must have hinted at his light sensitivity.


Blackwell: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WYN! ::She said in time with Alora::

Yael: ?

His jaw dropped and he just stopped, frozen for a moment as a deep shade of navy colored his cheeks.

Was running away a viable option?

No, idiot, it was not.  This was a nice thing.

An embarrassing nice thing.

Was hiding a viable option?

No, idiot, it was not.  This was a nice thing.

So maybe standing frozen was a viable option.  Ok, that was a compromise, it would do until some words dribbled out.

Foster: … thank you?  ::No, don’t make it sound like a question, idiot.:: Thank you!  ::That’s better.  Next time don’t smile like your lips are being stretched, but you’re getting there.:: I didn’t expect…

Now that was the honest truth.

DeVeau: You don’t think we would forget, would you?

Blackwell: He probably forgot himself ::And winked gently to the Andorian:: But Happy Birthday Wyn

Yael: ?

He was recovering now and he had adopted that roguish, somewhat jaded, kinda charming mask.  It was a comfortable persona, it worked for him.

Foster: Gotta admit, Rue, it’s easy to forget your own birthday when you Dad threw a dart at a calendar and said ‘yep that’s the day we’re celebrating’ because no one kept records on a primitive iceball…

This was true.

His eyes adjusted and he dared a step in.  Rue waved her hands as if she was a game show hostess and revealed a table full of…


Ok, food.  He was coming to terms with this.  This was a nice surprise party for him, which had certainly surprised him, he was totally embarrassed but also very hungry and these were friends, so he couldn’t be mad (well, maybe just a little mad) and he had to remind himself to be happy and

Shut up and eat, Wyn.

Everything will be happier and less maddening if you eat.

His stomach growled an agreement.

Blackwell: We have sweets, fruit, healthy treats, not so healthy treats...and of course drinks. Just a quiet night, with friends.

Foster: Ok, I like that.  ::he said in a soft voice, almost like a child.::

Yael/DeVeau: ?

Foster: Of course I’m hungry.  I’m always hungry.

Well, maybe not always, but most times.  With an overactive metabolism, it wasn’t hard to devour three meals per day and still be seeking snacks.

And he was past supper.  Oh yes, he was hungry.

Foster: ::Looking to Rue as he neared the snack table.:: You did this for me?

Blackwell::She walked up and was the first to offer a friendly hand towards Wyn, putting an arm around his shoulder, and smiled reassuringly:: Yup - we did this...for you.

He leaned into the touch and took in a long deep breath.

Foster: Thank you.

This time with 110 percent fewer weird smiles.  Improvement!

Yael/DeVeau: ?

Blackwell: Well first….why don’t we have some drinks ::a quick waggle of brows:: and enjoy ourselves!

Foster: I can get down with that.  ::He nodded stuffing a slice of apple in his mouth.::

Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ?

Foster: No, I ran here!  Triberius was quite cross.  ::He shook his head:: He was keeping me hostage in the hammock.

Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ?

Foster: Of course I brought him.  I left the tribbles back home…  But he comes everywhere.  He’s special… like a rash, you know.  I can’t get rid of him.

Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ?

More food was grabbed and munched while the others were talking.

Foster: I mean as long as we don’t play pin the tail on the birthday kid, I’m pretty OK with whatever.  Maybe one of those terrible movies Rue loves?

Yael/DeVeau/Blackwell: ?


Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Chief Surgeon
StarBase 118 Ops

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