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Ensign Ian O'Connor - Gotta hand it to ya

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My godness here @Ian OConnor nailing the best humour every time. You rocks mate!







[[ Room 020202, Deck 2, USS Ronin, In Orbit of Ferenginar]]


Ian was wide awake, just lying on his bunk. He could hear Tzim-Shah below him, trying to be quiet and not wake Ian. He played along for now pretending to not be disturbed.


Ian had really been trying to avoid his Tellerite roomie since returning from being released from sick bay. He didn’t really feel much like talking in general but Tzim-Shah had lost his arm “for real.” Ian felt awkward around the man. He struggled with thoughts of comparison. How could he feel this way when his roommate’s plight had been so much worse? He felt guilty about that and about not being a better…


oO shipmate?, co-worker?, friend? Oo


Ian wasn’t really sure how to define their relationship. They actually hadn’t spent a ton of time together since Ronin’s relaunch. Opposite shifts and different friend sets had them going in different directions most often.


They did have a mutual respect/truce/cold war thing, at least in the sense of Tzim-Shah not wanting to truly kill him. Ian had tried to lighten the mood early on and it didn’t go over well, at least not at first. Eventually, Tzim-Shah went with the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” approach and the two have traded small pranks back and forth since.


Ian chuckled to himself thinking of all the lettuce dishes and pirate clothes Tzim-Shah had programmed the replicator to spit out for Ian as well as his own pranks like pig-squealing door alarm and mud shower. Despite how angry Tzim-Shah might get in the moment, Ian was always relieved that things between the two never went too far. Ian stared across the room to the proof of that to where the Miss Piggy poster still hung.


Tzim-Shah had stood up, scratching the hair on his chest and as he turned to pick up the prosthesis, he found that his roommate was awake.

Tzim-Shah: What's up lettuce-face, you can't sleep?

O’Connor: Not really. Just wallowing away in self pity. ::He smiled:: Ok, maybe not that bad. I really just can’t get comfortable.


Tzim-Shah: Bah, been there, done that. ::There was a brusqueness in his voice that masked empathy. :: Do you want me to give you a hand?


Shah said this while waving the still unattached prosthesis, that greeted the Orion hybrid dismally with a bunch of mechanical and hydraulic crunching noises.

O’Connor: Nice, how long you been ::makes air quotes:: “holding” on to that joke?

The Tellarite sheepishly shrugged as he adjusted the device on his shoulder and then turned to head for the door of the shared bathroom.

Tzim-Shah: Your loss, it's a premium arm, the best of Tellar Prime's medical technology. Engineers are all insufferable sourpusses, but they really went all out on this one.

O’Connor: I’ll keep it in mind but only if I get to customize the color. You think hot pink would clash with my “lettuce face” complexion? Anyway, you game for grabbing some food?

Tzim-Shah: Nope, count me out kid, enroll Breeze if you need a sidekick.

O’Connor: Maybe, but what important endeavor would keep your snout out of the food troth? It’s prime slop day.

The sound of the sonic shower came on and amidst the buzzing sound came the answer.

Tzim-Shah: I have a date!

O’Connor: ::smiling:: Well, the universe never ceases to amaze. Who’s it with? I want to make sure I spell the name right on the sympathy card.

There was no reply as either Shah didn’t hear or chose to ignore the quip.

End of scene for O’Connor



Ensign Ian O’Connor


USS Ronin NCC-34523




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