Ensign Quentin Beck - Twinsies

[Dekas]

I got a good laugh out of this one from @Quentin Beck. It's amazing. I love Beck. I love him so much.

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((Quentin's Quarters 0111 - Deck 14 - USS Ronin))

 

There was something satisfying about having the room to himself.

 

Sure, it was only a temporary thing, at least until some new Ensign was assigned or someone else needed a new roommate, but it had been a very long time since Quentin had the freedom to walk around naked in his own quarters, and he was relishing the opportunity. When he wasn't on duty and wasn't wrapped up in some personal project, he was often in his quarters spending his time catching up on some reading while completely in the buff.

 

The thing about laundry in the 25th century - it wasn't really a thing. Not on a Starfleet ship, in any case. Uniforms and personal clothing went through normal routines of wear and tear, sometimes worn over multiple days depending on department, but ultimately at the end of its life cycle, the clothing would be tossed in the recycler and a brand spanking new set would be replicated instantaneously. No need for change purses or laundry detergent, no loud machines to maintain, no need to worry about getting out stains except maybe on any carpeting lining the deck plates.

 

Today, Quentin was at the end of the life cycle of… pretty much all of his clothing. He cleaned out his closet, including the unmentionables, and planned to replicate a new set of everything the next time he was getting ready to leave the room. There were several events he planned to attend in preparation for the Big Day™, not to mention checking up on some of the work he'd been doing on their way to Ferenginar, but he'd decided replicating the clothes could wait until after a nice, long sonic shower and a hot cup of coffee.

 

Although the secondary bunk was still mounted in the room, it had been morphed into an office setup of sorts; he'd moved the mattress against the wall and used a trio of deckplates to create a sort of desk for him to sit, completely separate from the usual desk mounted against the wall. The desk was covered with several sets of tools - engineering, medical, artistic, and even a few items that were, more or less, improvised, and littered around those tools were other little things with which he was tinkering. Some stroke of brilliance he'd have in the middle of the night would lead to the development of something that wasn't quite working but was almost there. A few things meant to be attached to another thing he was tinkering with that was too big to keep in his quarters.

 

Stuff like that.

 

And, of course, Alice lounged where she liked.

 

So he didn't really know there was a problem with his replicator until it was too late to do much about it. When he'd ordered the cup of hot coffee, the replicator had produced a mug overflowing with cocktail shrimp with a distinct lack of cocktail sauce.

 

He was puzzling over it, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, when the comm chimed. 

 

Lorana: =/\= Lorana to Beck =/\=

 

Looking up, he sighed and set the mug in the recycler before crossing over to his desk to hit the comm. He was not wearing his combadge as he didn't really have a place to pin it at the moment.

 

Beck: =/\= This is Beck. What's up, gorgeous? =/\=

 

Lorana: =/\= I was wondering if you'd like to visit Ferenginar? I have some old entrance passes to the Sacred Marketplace =/\=

 

His brows lifted and he smiled, leaning a hand on the desk and laying the other on his hip, crossing his ankles and nodding.

 

Beck: =/\= That's a big ten-four, Lux. I was thinking about heading down there anyway, it'd be even better to have you on my hip. =/\=

 

Lorana: =/\= Don't worry I don't think they throw people off the tower of commerce anymore =/\=

 

Quentin blinked, his face falling for a moment.

 

Beck: =/\= That was a thing? I always figured that was just a turn of phrase… maybe I'll replicate a parachute, just in case. =/\=

 

Lorana: =/\= Okay, well I have to make a visit to Sickbay beforehand but meet you in an hour? =/\=

 

There was amusement in her tone, which left him feeling relieved. Their interaction in the Science Lab had been confusing, to say the least, but they seemed to have mostly moved past it. She'd called him for a second date, after all.

 

Beck: =/\= It's a date. I'll see you in Transporter Room Three in an hour. Beck out. =/\=

 

He should've replicated his outfit right then - he'd fully intended after their discussion to wear this slick, waterproof white suit that he'd worn only a handful of times before that he thought would make him look particularly handsome. But he'd decided freshening up was more important, so he went through a slightly deeper rigamarole than usual to clean himself up. He knew her nose would be particularly sensitive, so he didn't apply any kind of extremely aromatic aftershave, but he used a very, very subtle sandalwood scent after getting rid of his five o'clock shadow.

 

Quentin took extra time to comb out his mustache, applying a light oil to keep it healthy, and he winked at himself with a set of dual finger-guns about ten minutes before he was supposed to meet Luxa at the transporter pad. He made his way back into his quarters proper to replicate the suit.

There was another problem with the replicator.

 

The suit was not made out of cocktail shrimp, thankfully. However, it was a very trim, faux leather red catsuit that was not really suited to his measurements. It even had delicate, miniscule little crystals sewn into it so it would shimmer and glow as he walked, plus a matching hooded cloak he could wrap around himself.

 

He replicated it about three more times before he gave up and finally just instructed the computer to adjust the sizing to match his. There weren't shoes with the original outfit, and he didn't think the white Derbys would match, so… he tried the replicator one last time.

 

((Transporter Room 3 - Deck 09 - USS Ronin))

 

Quentin was only three minutes late when he entered the Transporter Room, but his cheeks were flushed. He'd wobbled his way down the corridor to the turbolift from his room, practiced walking in a circle a few times while it was moving to Deck 09, then seemed to have figured out at least the basics of high heels by the time he arrived. At least well enough not to break his ankle in the process, but it had been quite the show.

 

He gawked when he saw Luxa was there wearing the exact same thing, all the way down to the cloak, then he shot a murderous gaze over his shoulder at the closed doors to the corridor.

 

oO Ooooh, Is'Kah, you little… this means war. Oo

 

Quentin cleared his throat and shifted his weight to one foot, looking her over. Then he offered his lopsided smile and sighed.

 

Beck: Well, this is embarrassing, I picked out this number just for you.

 

Lorana: Response

 

Beck: ::shaking his head with a sigh:: Oh, I had a problem with my replicator. Didn't know it was a problem until I was practically out the door, so I tried to make do.

 

Lorana: Response

 

Beck: Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery… or so I hear, anyway.

 

He flashed her a grin and sighed again before motioning to the transporter pad and stepped up onto it with her, reaching behind him to pull a little at the backside of his outfit.

 

Beck: Does this thing ride up a little on you, too, or– no, of course not, yours fits a lot better. Looks a lot better, too, quite frankly, but I don't have your figure, either.

 

Lorana: Response

 

He shook his head and grinned, motioning to the transporter operator, and the Ronin dissolved from his view.

 

TBC/Tag

 

Ensign Quentin Beck

Medical Officer

USS Ronin NCC-34523

A238810SA0