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⸻ 𝐻𝐴𝐼𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐹𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐼𝐸𝑆 𝑂𝑃𝐸𝑁.
𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 / 𝘰𝘤 & 𝘥𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 / 𝘢𝘶 & 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 / 21+
To be fair, Andorian ale has a helluva kick.
“ Is it the kick that causes your breath to smell like an old lady fart being pushed through an onion ? ” The statement was, by and far, a jaded exaggeration.
Nyota’s dialectal daggers were more a reflection on her mood soured equally by matters both personal & professional and then that itch of irritation being flared at the Captain’s inebriated need for close-talking. With an abundance of downtime while the Enterprise underwent routine maintenance — there had also been an abundance of close encounters of the Kirk kind. Which normally were welcome. Lately, however, the Lieutenant hadn’t cared much for the company of anyone beyond her own thoughts, duties, and headset.
But conversely and despite the acidity of Uhura’s reply, she turned to Kirk, posture needle straight, with the ghost of something passing as a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.
She thought of apologizing, but swigged her tepid beer and decided against the notion; given it would have been an unequivocal lie and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura was a great many things, but a liar was not one of them.