Bored or Stalking

Posted on Wed Feb 2nd, 2022 @ 10:09am by Captain Reuben Gregnol (Mirror) & Evanna Belyaev

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: Imperial Palace
Timeline: 2397
9413 words - 18.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Gregnol had been around the room once and had decided that the pompous attitude of the Lords, Ladies and Lieutenants of the Terran Imperial Palace was why he stayed as Imperial Starfleet Captain instead of taking up the offer of joining the Empress in one of the positions there. It did not suit him at all, an hour into the buffet meal and he was desperate to get back to his ship and go hunting for the rebels, he needed many answers especially if Jeassaho was alive.

The stop from the Empress was leaving him climbing the walls though you could not tell from the look of him. The man was still calm and composed but underneath the surface, a fire was raging. He could see that most of his crew were mingling out of trouble so he moved towards where he saw the Science Chief standing alone under one of the marble pillars dotted around to give the impression of being on a planet palace.

“Are you bored or stalking, Lieutenant?” He wondered observing her.

"Are those the only options?"

Her tone, whilst never insubordinate, carried a lilt of amusement that flirted with familiarity. Like so much of the woman's personality, it contradicted her posture, still elongated upwards with shoulders squared and chin lifted. She didn't appear to be particularly perturbed by her solitude, likely having secured it willingly as a means of deterring the attention of those she preferred not to invent pleasantries for. On a purely aesthetic level, Evanna tended to attract admiration but even a black widow looked enticing at first to potential suitors.

Her blue eyes lifted to meet his.

"Studying," she offered as a compromise. "It didn't feel overly wise to ingratiate myself too deeply, there still seems to be some consternation about Smithson's absence." As there would be. Some quite powerful people no longer had an easily-manipulate lackey.

“Studying. How scientific.” Gregnol almost snorted into his wine and shook his head. Of course, there would be a concern and hurt feelings around Smithson. He had been running an operation under his nose so in his mind Saa had done him and everyone else a favour.

“Of course there is anxiety. These people have it in abundance constantly in the presence of people wanting to take their treasures and that is before the Empress is mentioned. They like to play more mind games than Interrogators.” The Captain commented with a shake of his head. “I would be more surprised to find them not anxiety ridden. I put someone in place, not of their choosing. Smithson was there when I took over the Fenrir.”

As a concession, an attempt to mingle, Belyaev had been nursing her own wine glass for the best part of the last half hour. She took a sip now, one of very few judging by how much of the deep red merlot still filled the glass, and watched her Captain over its rim.

Her Captain.

It would have surprised most people who knew of her, (nobody really knew her or were in a rush to claim so), that Evanna quite...liked...Gregnol. He had conviction and the balls to follow through and had seemed to master the political dance out of sheer desperate stubbornness than any innate talent for it. Reading between the lines of his face now, it amused her that he seemed no more enamored by these smokescreens, these bells and whistles, than she was. Both of them, in their own ways, were potential wedges jammed into the Imperial clockwork; he was just a far bigger wedge. He was also responsible for her elevation and the subsequent quagmire she'd spent the first part of the evening extracting herself from.

They had expected her to be frothing at the loins for an opportunity to betray him. Thus far, they'd been...disappointed.

It was, of course, why he'd brought her along. A display of domination that also became the carrot dangled in front of the donkey's nose. Bait. It had also been a test of her loyalty but Evanna didn't begrudge him that much, at least. Slowly lowering the glass, the statistician licked a droplet of red wine from the corner of her lips and turned her gaze to the room.

"Then let them sweat."

The words, spoken in a language only the pair of them understood, grazed the boundaries between subordinate and superior but it didn't seem odd from a woman who seemed to have set up camp there permanently.


“Oh, they will be. They have no idea who you are. Who you are loyal to. They have been shaken by many of my crew this evening.” He replied in the same language smirking as a waiter did a double take unable to understand them. He was pretty sure that the elaborate game of this whole party was a way for Nelania to remind them all who was in charge despite her age. Why would she bring her former personal bodyguard and himself on board if it was not to remind them? She was not a fool and knew how to play both the old guard loyal to her father's ideals and the younger members wanting changes to further the cause. Gregnol just watched her back unblinking.

“Can you see the redhead in the corner who is watching us?” He glanced at the woman who was all fire in appearance with red hair and green eyes with a glass raised as she just stared back. The Russian had always found it ironic that her appearance had always reminded him of a fire burning out of control since she was regent of the coldest planet Gregnol had ever had the opportunity to spend time on.

“She is the Lord Regent of Andoria. She hates me and wants me in equal measures. I turned her down just after the burning of a Betazed and she has spent the whole evening stalking me.” He admitted pointing out several other people around the room who were all watching unafraid that they were being observed doing so.

"I did think she was overly polite to me."

That Belyaev herself better resembled a creature of ice and snow possibly hadn't helped avoid the seething vitriol dressed up as cordiality. Her eyes darted between faces as his rumbled Russian accent afforded each of them an identity for her mental catalogue. Most of them had sought her out, several of them had been very forthright in demanding who she was, and the rest had attempted to ingratiate themselves whilst simultaneously trying not to trip over their own clumsily disguised distrust. Several had tried their hand at propositioning her.

She'd been very controlled.

The second sip of wine was unprecedented but it smothered a faint smile at his expense. "No aspirations for regency then?" Across the room, the lithe blonde's piercing gaze matched the glowering embers of the other woman, unflinching and without intimidation. It radiated with perfect clarity that the red-head was not pleased to see Gregnol otherwise occupied, by his own choice no less, but Evanna had stared down far greater challenges than a petulant regent who wasn't getting their own way.

“No.” He stated simply taking a deep gulp of his drink as he thought about it. The vodka was good but it did not burn enough for him. “I would miss too much and there are rebels that I want to bring to justice first.” It was not as simple as that but it did not need to be proclaimed to her or anything. “Do not stare her down. Let’s not cause a scene.” Gregnol laughed.

A slow blink broke the tether; a glance upwards at him, slyly beneath lashes, cemented Evanna's compliance. "I have spent this entire engagement avoiding scenes," she admonished gently, though as the only person in the room to understand the cadence of her tone, Gregnol was unlikely to mistake her guile as anything more than a light tease.

"Telling off your Captain, detka." He said amused as he saw the sly look. Anyone else would already have her in an agony booth but he knew deep down it was nothing more than a tease, she was a tease. The Andorian regent finally decided to take matters into her own hands and came over.

"Captain Gregnol it has been too long." She said in her polished accent. She was a lot younger than she looked up closed, the makeup and older style of clothing giving her the look that was required of someone who controlled a planet before her hair was grey. She was a politician and a ruthless one at that.

"Mellicent, it has... You have not met, this is my science chief, Lieutenant Belyaev." He introduced putting the thoughts straight back onto his companion.

"We met briefly. It's lovely to speak with you again."

Was this a staring contest? Surely looking elsewhere would have been construed as rude, though meeting the fierce gaze directly with ice beams probably wasn't going to limit the build-up of friction. Evanna's accent, as well as her tone, was provocative purely because it resembled his; another coveted connection to match the breach of subtlety in his my. It was surprisingly airy, however, a shift away from her usual coiled serpent towards an attempt at actual...pleasantries. The chameleon shifted her patterns, not out of any particular deference for the over-entitled woman looking down her nose at her, but interestingly enough, for him. For their intent here. For a lack of making a scene. She even smiled. It was sure to infuriate.

The woman made a small noise at the my but plastered her own smile on her face and drank a deep sip of her wine. “Yes, dear pleasure to meet you again. Do you mind us having a private conversation without your science chief? I need a military mind for a moment to help me with a little Andorian problem.” She soothed over the bitterness that was just on the edge of her polished accent. It was not British but it was not quite anything else that Gregnol had managed to pin down.

That one, Evanna left up to Gregnol, though there was a very subtle turn of her shoulder to bring her somewhat parallel to his stance. They weren't touching, she stood just enough to the front of him to avoid it, but it ensured they were both facing the woman as she attempted to drive in her wedge. Fundamentally, Belyaev would follow whatever her Captain stipulated without much care to take offence or concern herself with bruised egos, but she likewise wasn't moving until he ordered it.

The man took in a deep breath and smiled wider Ashe realised where this was going to go. He was going to have to play dirty. “I am sorry, Regent, but I and Evanna were just going to leave for a walk. I want to show her the Imperial Palace as we are going to be here for a few days. We can meet tomorrow for dinner if you send a message to my yeoman.” He suggested putting a hand on Evanna’s back to push her past the regent.

“I will, Captain,” Millicent said narrowing her eyes just a little. “Tomorrow twenty hundred.” She instructed.

It wasn't very often Evanna was used as a direct line of defence; the front-line was not her natural habitat. Something about it tickled her. It was fortunate enough that she moved ahead, it meant that the glance upwards to catch Mellicent's barely-concealed snarl was a moment shared privately between the two of them and couldn't possibly have earned any criticism from a certain Russian who, if Evanna had to judge, was not as against starting scenes as he made out.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips as the hand against her back guided her out of earshot.

"You have impressive reflexes under fire." A return to russkiy yazyk gave her tone back its natural husk.

He did miss the shared look but he was not thick; he knew how women played games with a lot more subtleness than him. Tomorrow he would have to play the dinner on her terms no matter what. “I am the Butcher of Betazed, of course, I have impressive reflexes.” He countered as he guided her past crew and court members as if it was a normal occurrence. His pace was not quick but he had a reason to get out of the chamber for a little while so he was taking it.

A perfunctory response; it got its message through. A fluidity that surrendered no gracefulness drew Evanna's hands to settled behind her, cupped together in a stance of relaxed respect that ensured they moved from the space as Captain and subordinate to any distrustful enough to mark their disappearance. The retreat into formality drew her back a little behind the veil, silent and observant and clever enough to know when she needed to wait for her superior officer to set up their next move.

The pair moved out of the room eventually with no more stops and made it out into the antechamber where they had arrived. He moved his hand from her back without comment allowing her to move where she wanted.

“Get out.” He barked at a pair of crewmen who were not from his that were using the space to make out. The male looked over about to argue but stopped himself as he saw who was standing there barking out orders to him. He grabbed his companion without argument and went back inside the party. “Young fools.” He muttered to himself.

It took a lot to make Evanna laugh. One might imagine that any success would only produce a kind of schadenfreude, or self-congratulatory snicker, because to the unimaginative and unobservant, she seemed just the type. Usually, it was more because she simply didn't need to express things outwardly that were perfectly well-preserved within the confines of her mind, where they could neither condemn nor confuse. Her mind, an impressive fortress of intentional architecture for one without the biological predisposition to outwit the telepathic regime around her, contained a lifetime worth of amusement, delight, small pleasures... Her features, delicate and lovely, so often betrayed none of it.

She stood, waiting for him, hands still clasped behind her back, very visibly not laughing. He'd been young, once. She wondered if he recalled.

The man watched the pair leave before turning his gaze back on the woman watching the emotions flicker across her face before she settled on something. He frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that, detka. Making out in an antechamber is not treating your partner with respect. This is the imperial palace, there are so many better places.” He muttered shaking his head. He would have never treated Jeassaho like that.

"It appeared consensual."

The scientist's veneer slipped back into place; chin upwards, features placid, the absence of even a flicker at being continually chastised as an infant. Her observation offered more as a suggestion than a correction, was perhaps indicative of a generational divide after all; where he saw lack of respect, Evanna only saw the thrill of risk, of boundaries, tested. There was a privilege to his opinion too; not everyone had the luxury of better places.

Away from the crowd, though arguably not free from scrutiny, Evanna's gazed wandered to consider details she had failed to notice during introductions. Assuming their tour was nothing more than Gregnol's escape route, the blonde expected no official commentary but, instead, took several wandering steps to meander around the architecture herself. As if to offer fleeting consideration, her hand grazed the stonework where the pair had pressed against each other but didn't linger.

The man snorted but stayed quiet just watching her for a long whilst letting her do as she wished. He did not want to go into how he felt there was very little consensual about their world. There was almost always some type of power play between people, always an alternate motive for connections. Love did not exist anymore.

“I really did not mean to just show you an antechamber. If you want the tour that is, Lieutenant.” He finally spoke up offering to show her more of the palace. It would be boring just to go there and just see nothing more than the throne room and ballroom. There was so much more to the floating city.

All the more reason, her pragmatic side would have argued, to celebrate frantic trysts wedged in between official duties but Evanna had already dismissed the pair, finding no purpose in speculating about the exchange of bodily fluids between irrelevant parties. Love, as far as Russian beauty was concerned, might as well never have existed. She'd never found any particular use for it.

From across the short distance, regarding the enigmatic officer peaceably, Evanna cast a final glance to the fretwork and crossed back to join him. "Yes," came the unexpectedly direct response. "If you are offering." The tiniest inflection, perhaps a simple blip in translation, favoured emphasis on the 'you'.

He heard the infliction and inclined his head to indicate he was offering but it was up to her. “I am.” He replied holding out a hand to her. When she gave her hand, he moved it put it on his arm in a gentlemanly fashion. He knew how to treat a guest and companion, especially in the imperial palace when all eyes camera and real were on them.

They moved from the antechamber to a large corridor that seemed to stretch on forever. It had been a long time since he had walked that way, the last time had been when he had been trying to impress an engineer when he had thought love not foolish and before he had made a name for himself for mass murder. He had been a security chief trying to impress a young engineer who was the most sensual creature he had ever met. “This is the main corridor for the whole palace, everything runs off here. In the daytime, it is nothing but chaos and people.”

She's all numbers and statistics. Pretty head but a viper's mind. You'd have better luck seducing a tricorder.

A lifetime of fleeting condemnation and dismissal trailing behind her, Evanna fell into the formal gait, with its inherently misogynistic imbalance, with surprising ease. Most couldn't separate the scientist from the woman, the officer from the person, which was mostly the orchestrated design of Evanna herself. She had Imperial Fleet Poster Child stamped all over her demeanor most days; that she could so naturally take a man's arm and bring her other hand to settle atop the one gripping him lightly to form the expected loop was...probably fortunate.

The walls had eyes.

"And now it is just chaos without the people." She took care to speak in Standard; she had the wherewithal to understand anything else would attract attention.

“Sometimes. Though right now I feel like it is calm. Maybe it is the calm before a storm but still calm compared to the usual chaos.” He said patting her hand once before he carried on leading her to a large observation lounge that looked down onto what could be described as a park in the process of being landscaped. People were working away below despite the lateness of the hour but to the slaves below it looked like daytime thanks to the lighting which made Gregnol wince at the brightness for a moment before his eyes adjusted.

“One of the new parks the Empress is building to make the palace more homely for herself.” It must be boring to constantly be on a ship even if it went all over the Terran Empire.

Tiny little prickles, little puzzle pieces hurling along her synapses. Belyaev regarded the project with a scientist's gleam, a habit as much as any underlying necessity that left her with the assumption that she was always an extension of his own sensor array. Anything familiar? It was too much to expect, in the world, they occupied, that someone like Gregnol would indulge in the sheer simplicity of a tour. There were layers because there were always layers, provisions for opportunities that may or may not present themselves. Observe, categorize, store. His own personal tricorder.

An entire habitat inside a ship. What a novel idea.

"It's beautiful."

An uncommon sentiment, if only because it served absolutely no purpose. Aesthetics had surface value.

The Captain shrugged just a little at her uncommon use of words. He supposed when it was ended it would be beautiful but for now, it was just what it was unfinished. It did not stir anything in him really other than the interest he had in people watching. “I thought you would appreciate it due to your little project on my ship. Whilst your project is beautifully bringing the dead back to life, this will one day be completed to a grander scale just like the rest of the palace .”

Her project. True by a technicality, though Evanna's previous work had been copious amounts of data compilation and analysis with very little input into the labour-intensive aspects of creating a viable ecosystem. That she had to take a closer interest in all aspects now was his fault but Belyaev was at least a different source of perspective. She had very little romance in her soul for restoring Betazed. Casualties were casualties for a reason.

"Bigger and better." It might very well have been the mantra by which they lived. "They're doing quite well," she added, a hitch of amusement buffering the condescension in her tone. "Mine is already producing honey, though."

“Of course, detka.” He said softly, his own amusement evident. “They do not have something that you do on the Fenrir. Honey means you can recreate something important. My favourite booze.” He said brightly as he let go of her arm with a squeeze, moving to look at another observation window.

Honey for the Captain. As a principle, Evanna found the concept amusing. Ingratiating herself with her superiors was not something the young scientist typically found palatable. The kind of groveling, sniveling reverence Reece had displayed during introductions rankled at something so deeply ingrained that it played a pivotal role in her foundation. Russians, if they were proud enough to maintain their heritage, did not fawn over others. Respect, certainly, but tempered by propriety. Control. Composure. A lavish display, such as harvesting honey to secure favour, grated so heavily against Evanna's sensibilities as to be offensive even as a jest. That being said, she was not disappointed that the project had produced a byproduct of such value to Gregnol. She shared his fondness for its fermentation prospects.

It stood to reason, if reason could be to blame, that the Science Chief chose another observation window to lean towards, the scan of placid eyes documenting the movement back and forth of indentured laborers. It hadn't been a conscious decision to separate herself from him, just a natural tendency to favour independence coupled with her own brand of deference for his position. He had moved away first, after all, and despite his insistence on relegating her to the position of a swaddled child, petted on the head by a parent, Evanna felt no compulsion to cling. She craned her neck, her gaze cast towards a point furthest to her left.

"I see they're attempting a natural waterway."

“No surprise. The Empress misses Terra. She is most likely modelling it on the Seine or Severn or something.” He muttered with a shrug from where he stood leaning against the observation window that he was looking down from. It was of no interest to him at all even if the Empress was the leader of the project. It was not something he would ever get something out of so it was not worth anything to him other than a stray something to pass a moment. “So what are your plans for the rest of the evening?” He wondered.

He had the distinction of catching her out without an immediately-manicured response. As much as she'd attended the function willingly and without frustration, Evanna had assumed her only contribution was as a warning, a declaration of his superiority, and had been content to simply abide by the expectations of her meagre rank and reputation until such time as she was no longer needed. That didn't mean to say the blonde wasn't without her own typically-silent agenda, but that had lacked any definition beyond a personal mandate to observe. The lilt of her eyebrows upwards, the turn of her head to consider him a moment before responding, was almost a trophy. She didn't wear her surprise easily.

A faint smile drew enigma from her eyes. "What would you like me to do?" That was the point, right? She was here because he wanted her to be.

Gregnol shook his head at her and smirked at the way the surprise for his question hit her. She had expected him to want more from her, more than her mere presence had already done. She had been a way to remind people who he was but also that his crew did not suffer fools and all of them were expendable but it had been achieved hours ago. He did not need to push his own agenda any more than he already had.

“Me? Many things but that is for you to decide, detka. You could leave and go back to the ship or assigned quarters here, we could carry on with the tour or whatever you want to suggest. I am sure there is something on this city-sized ship that has always intrigued you. I have no plans.” That was a lie for the lost part but his plans to look through logs for the information he needed but it could always wait. It had waited three years already.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

Eventually, it would backfire, the flirtation with a familiarity that kept insisting on meeting him at a more level footing than at least one of them likely believed existed. That it was not evidently disrespectful might have improved matters, Evanna held herself inwards far too much to shatter composure in such a blatantly insubordinate way, but her amusement radiated. Inquisitiveness, a scientist's bread and butter, was normally a more private matter but he had legitimately intrigued her. Not insulted. It wasn't being used to insult, his tone held a different quality.

Crossing to approach him, the blonde stopped several feet shy of proprietary's boundary, her brow dappled with a faint frown of pensiveness. She wasn't offended but she was confused. "If it concerns you, I have not worn diapers for nearly three decades." A slight stretch but only just; she had met all her milestones early.

The normally brutal man frowned and looked at her with a confused look before a smirk crossed his features as he realised her frustration. For all their shared languages some words were just not the same or did not have quite the same inflection.

“Your translation of the word is off. I am not calling you babe for being a swaddled infant.” He said simply. “I am fully aware that you have not worn diapers in many years.” He added looking her over in a way that spoke volumes. He was very aware that she was an adult.

Twice-surprised in as many minutes; he had an uncanny talent, it seemed. Surprised, but not shocked, and still not insulted. Amused? A little. Curious?

He had said to explore something on the ship that intrigued her. There had been no stipulation it had to actually belong to the ship.

"The Ukraine has been known to eschew the less formal influences," she agreed, a dancing fire of ice blue watching him intently as he broke gaze to consider her. By the time Gregnol looked back, his Science Chief wore the faintest smirk of her own. "And my time in Novosibirsk clearly left me none-the-wiser." Untrue in so many ways but for the purposes of the conversation, it would suffice. Evanna held his gaze, unflinching and unabashed. "I stand corrected."

Gregnol stared back at her enjoying this back and forth. He rarely got to do it now other than when Selina was in the right mood or he caught Alexis in a non crazy mood.

“Will have to remedy the lack of being wise so we make sure it does not happen again.” He commented as a courtesan walked by them, using the observation lounge as a pass through. The man did not even look at the others than to nod at the Captain recognising him instantly, and then went through the exit. “You did not answer my question of what it is you want to do yourself. “ he commented when they were alone again.

Present undercurrent aside, there were plenty of responses equally as applicable to her desires that Belyaev was unlikely to suggest. Her interests, the things that inspired her, what this ship presented by way of features to admire and study, would have been considered unusual or, at the very least, uncommon by most. But access to the ship's security infrastructure was not likely to be forthcoming and the opportunity to play around with the operating system, to test its resilience and fortitude and take notes, wasn't going to be a suggestion met with more than laughter. The wheels of a unique mind turned behind her blue eyes but Evanna chose, because it was equally as fascinating, to stay the current course.

"Surprise me." He'd already proven he could. "Show me something most don't see."

“Are you sure?” He found himself saying with a glint of something beneath his eyes. He had spoken about consensual earlier and despite it all, he knew how his position affected people's views. He never wanted something due to that or forcing himself on people, it was not fun in the slightest for him whilst for others it was all that they had about them.

Much like everything about her, the invitation had been a double-edged sword. An intentional innuendo, perhaps, but Evanna had found herself genuinely fascinated by what his natural choice would be. The arch of an eyebrow, however, said just about everything it needed to about his supposition she ever spoke without being certain. He'd been gone from Russia too long if he'd forgotten the women she bred.

"Should I not be?", she countered, pulling back against his tug-of-war.

Genuinely he was surprised by the game they were playing. Most feared him enough to not play it unless they wanted a death wish from some jealous colleagues or truly just did not care. She was not like that at all, every step she had taken had been with his push.

“Without a doubt. I am dangerous, did you not know?” He asked taking several steps closer, putting a handovers hers for a second before tugging on it bringing her into step with him as he started walking.

The actual tug, the implicit strength behind it, actually earned him a chuckle before the blonde fell into step alongside him again, hands clasped around his forearm. "We live in dangerous times. Attempting to avoid it seems not only futile but unrewarding." She spoke without specifics, not uncommon for her, but there was a conviction to flavour the passion of her belief. "I have to die somehow." She did not intend it to be soon. Turning her head to smirk at him from the corner of her eye, Evanna added, "Might as well have it mean something."

The man saw her smirk and nodded. They did live in dangerous times, where a man would burn a planet and billions to win a war even if the planet held his wife on it. It was not the time to think about that, the imperial palace already held her ghost enough. “I think it could mean something.” He mused in Russian as he led them off the main corridor. It would be impossible to get back without knowing the route but Gregnol had no plans to go back for a long time.

Impossible was a strong word for a mind like a steel trap and a total accurate recall of anything numerical or pattern-based. Evanna had her own way of keeping track of her surroundings, she wasn't foolish. Foolish people didn't last very long. But she was likewise mostly unperturbed by any obsession with personal security, no stranger to the thrill of risk or the appeal of the uncertain. In her professional life, she kept an orderly and predictable streamline; her private life held scope for flexibility.

What was possibly considered impossible by some was the ease with which she fell into silence beside him, matching steps with graceful strides that didn't falter even as she cast her gaze upwards towards the masonry once more. Thoughts ran in parallel, the separate processing centres in her brain capable of multiple considerations all at once. Whatever her opinion of the ship's interior design, however, it was not the topic of her next comment. That, instead, came as a soft curiosity as Evanna's attention returned to the path ahead.

"So where exactly are you from?" Intrusive, perhaps, but not an unreasonable interest. The nuances of his ancestry were tucked into the pieces he didn't often leave on public display.

“Terra… Russia.” He answered without hesitation. It was one of his most asked questions of his. Everyone knew that but he gathered she meant the specifics of it all. “Moscow.” He finally said as he input a code on a door and pressed the door release allowing it to open allowing her to go inside first.

The urge to slap him. Russia. He must have caught the look she gave him as she stepped into the room ahead of him. Even Moscow was only marginally better. "I'm aware of your general origins." Oh, was she just? Her eyes toyed with him on the way past; smartarse. "But Moscow. Fitting." The powerhouse, centre of infrastructure and culture; of course, he was raised there.

"What does that mean?" He demanded with a chuckle as the lights turned on revealing a large living area filled with black and gold lighting just like the rest of the ship. It was fitting but Gregnol was not sure it suited his needs, he liked things more silver but he was not one to judge the Empress' decorations. The large living area looked comfortable enough with a huge leather sofa, replicator, terminal and huge window but it was the huge painting of the Empress and her father that filled up the wall opposite the window that stood out.

"You don't seem like a country boy."

Except, he did. A little. There was something rustic about the edges of him, something ground-roots that Evanna couldn't quite put a finger on. It was why she'd asked as if tracing his origins back to inception would somehow provide clarity. She didn't intrude too far into the room, as constrained in her curiosity as always, but she did make it to the room's centre before stopping, part-way between the window and the huge portrait. "You have quite the view." The swinging pendulum of her gaze made it possible she was talking about either or both.

“Does living in London for ten years count as the country?” He wondered if that was more helpful in whatever she was looking for by using the word country. He raised an eyebrow at her looking back and forth and shrugged. “I like all the views I have.” He replied not sure what she was on about but he had three options in his mind. All of them valid - her, the huge painting of the empress and her father or the window looking across the vastness of space where he could see his ship barely against the hull of the Imperial Palace.

The proposition seemed fitting enough. At least the implication drew a smile whilst Evanna's attention eventually settled on the viewport and the ship beyond. Committed, she moved to stand within the window's frame, inclined to view the starscape more with a scientist's appreciation than any artistic preference. "It counts as something," she agreed, a quiet tease amidst her contemplation. "I spent some time there as a child." A sliver of herself, not often offered. Then again, she'd spent time in many places as a child. "It certainly smells like a cattle ranch at times." Caught by an intrusion of light, her reflection smirked.

Reuben moved to stand beside her instead of behind her and watched the scene himself. He had not known that about her but barely everyone knew much about himself. “I cannot say that I noticed that about London. I preferred it to Moscow. Less cold and harsh.” He admitted. His father had been around less so it had been a nicer time for his mother and his siblings.

A shift in her pupils drew focus from beyond to their reflections, a different way of catching his eye without moving. London had been one of her parent's favourite place on Earth, barring Paris which seemed an extension of sorts; an affection that had not been entirely lost on the young Evanna but had since become something of a sour recollection. The insult had been mostly a jest, a reflection of cultural bickering that wasn't much of a surprise given the woman's subtle yet pervasive patriotism. Comradeship ran veins-deep and very nearly constituted the only form of bond or connection the blonde could be accused of having. To most, she was a glacier. Here?

Her reflection smiled at him.

"I love the cold."

Yet she didn't turn away from warmth, not this close, this palatable. Her shoulder, mere inches from brushing against his arm, settled in relaxation.

"Kyiv has a summer at least," she continued, another infinitesimally small piece of herself. Silence hovered, comfortable enough. "Do you ever return?"

“That it does.” He snorted and shook his head quickly. “I have not been back to Terra since I was proclaimed a hero for what happened on Betazed.” It was too much to go back there, everything was like returning to a house you once lived in but it had changed too much but the ghosts of the past still wanted to haunt you.

What happened on Betazed. It was an incredibly succinct way of phrasing one of the most horrific atrocities of the past century. As it happened, it was very similar phrasing to what Evanna would have chosen herself. Everyone had lost something that day; loved ones, business ventures, a sense of balance and the comfort of a level of security nobody had realised was vital until it was gone. No matter how bad things got, your world kept turning. Until it didn't.

She had often wondered what it had done to him, even before she'd met him. A curiosity towards shared sentiment. Being responsible for mass homicide was a strange beast.

Yet, despite the ripe opening, she didn't push. Not now. Moderation in all things, even curiosity. Evanna stared out at the stars for as long as seemed respectful, offering with her silence what most others gave in empty platitudes.

Then she turned to him, a gentle twist without much adjustment for distance, and fixed him with a look of complicated amusement that was fast becoming his alone. "So what did you want to show me?" And like that, she was the cat to his mouse again. It spoke something to Evanna's sensibilities that she didn't put it entirely past Gregnol to invite her to his personal chambers for unorthodox reasons but she was also pragmatic. She angled her chin to compensate for the height difference and held his gaze.

“You wanted something most people do not get to see so you are getting my gentle side.” He said with very little hesitation as he looked back. She had always gotten something akin to gentleness due to his usual fondness for Russian crew members but there was something more about her that was drawing them both together.

That warranted a moment's consideration, thoughts moving like pistons behind disconcertingly pale blue eyes. There was a depth to his response, if it could be trusted to be sincere, that drew a common pensiveness from his companion, always prone to disappear behind the veil of her own evaluation. Contemplation. What was missing was the accompanying distance of self. Belyaev, if you asked any of her crew, was not an available woman. Moments of tenderness, of friendship and camaraderie, were not key aspects of her typically brusque professional approach and if Evanna was out in public, she was the consummate professional almost all of the time. This lent itself to the kind of enigmatic presence where even those who spent the most time with you would have been at a loss to name your favourite colour, your most hated food, what you enjoyed doing in your downtime. Nobody in Sciences believed Belyaev had any downtime and the most common theory was that she slept in her office. Normally, she pulled away from the touchy-feely emotional stuff.

She didn't move. What's more, her eyes studied his, keen to dig to the root of this willingness to shun public opinion. The same betting pool would have favoured Gregnol to be an unfeeling bastard, callously indifferent to the harm he caused if not downright invigorated by it. Evanna had always suspected otherwise.

"A rare treasure indeed." No need to push too hard. "A work of art even."

He shook his head and moved closer until he was against her, his hands on her forearms testing his opinion on her. It was not much different than he had always thought when she had come across his radar to replace Smithson if he became an issue and before tonight when she had practically saved him from a night with Millicent despite how fun it would be.

“I think we are the same in regards to the crew. I think you have the same crew's opinion that you do not care or are too much of a block of ice to have emotions but I think you have much more going under the surface otherwise you would not have come on this tour.” He whispered leaning down to cover her mouth with his.

He was...astute. Difficult to out-think, which in Evanna's sphere of influence made him every bit the rare treasure she'd declared him to be. She was adaptable enough that he hadn't exactly out-maneuvered her but the kiss still made an impact as a thrill along her nervous system that was perhaps beyond what the scientist had anticipated. His complexity made him attractive, he hadn't needed to convince her of his appeal because she'd arrived at that opinion quite a while back. His tact was disarming though, the manner by which he'd chosen to pursue unpredictable enough to add fresh intrigue. Time would tell if her beneath the surface was what he expected, something to be prized or criticised, but Evanna yielded with little more than a palm settled against his chest and that meant something.

The man pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “No?” He questioned not sure if she was yielding or not. He had meant what he said about consent earlier for the horrors in the world that he had done and seen it was important to his self esteem as a man to have it.

And there was that hesitation again, that sense of morality. It had been reflex to settle her hand against him, a brace that provided an unconscious level of self-protection and preservation that hadn't been so much as intention as a natural extension of her wall of privacy. As soon as Evanna made sense of his question, and the impetus for it, she curled her lips into a faint smile and slid the same hand up to settle at the base of his neck, a guide to a kiss of her own instigation to settle his concern. "I wouldn't be here if the answer was no." The murmur brushed her lips against his. He was a gentleman after all.

It was an easy question to ask but her answer reminded him that she knew her own mind. He respected that more than anything else she was a good scientist. The man nodded at her answer as the kiss of her own stopped any words escaping from his lips as he took the kiss deeper pressing her back against the window.

The impact, little more than a light bump, created a fresh thrill. Capitulation didn't scan as one of Evanna's primary traits but there was appeal enough in the seeping chill permeating the cloth of her dress uniform through the window that clashed with the heat of him, his weight enough to pin her in place. One hand buried in the hair at his nape, the other settled along his jaw, a cradle from astonishingly soft skin that betrayed the privilege of her position. A scientist, not a soldier.

It took all his self control not to push her too far too quickly. He was a better man than that in that regard, he did not need to rush. A younger man would already have her in the bedroom but he was not some first year cadet trying to survive enough to take a little pleasure. He was older and seen and done more in her 30 years than men double his age. His kisses trailed from her lips to her neck, pushing her hair away.

She'd done quick. Never one to kiss-and-tell, it was nevertheless probably a decent description of Evanna's sex life to note that brevity had been a key feature. Physical release without connection, frustration and satiation without obligation. It was easier that way, right? Easier to pick up and keep moving, to forge ahead and have no reason to look back. It wasn't a promiscuous habit, she was still meticulously fussy, but the lithe blonde had never had too much to protest when the bulk of her sexual conquest had been a quivering mess of first year cadet still trying to catch a breath as she dressed herself again. It was uncomplicated.

Older men, though. Older men were an indulgence, far less frequent and infinitely more enjoyable. Add to that the power and gravitas of someone like Gregnol and it made sense to slow down and savour the experience. To enjoy the way her pulse fluttered against his lips, and the friction that built when her fingernails toyed through his hair. Shifted weight changed her stance, the curve of the window's pane allowing her to lean back into a half-sit. A second hand dropped to his waist tugged him inwards, her legs either side, to the intimacy of her body moulding into his contours in supple submission; a far cry from her initial conservative body language.

With the submission and invitation to get closer he for a moment bowed to what she wanted before he easily gripped her up, wrapping her legs around him. It was an easier position with their height differences. One of them would always be straining and he was not going to be the one straining. He kissed her hard at the change in position allowing them to be on a much better standing. “Much easier.” He whispered into her neck returning his kisses there enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his lips.

His hands. The position required them to wander places that thawed out any residual tension coiled in her gut. Even without intentional aggression, the movement buffeted Evanna, driving shoulderblades against the glass to grind upwards slowly as he pulled her to his level. She grinned at the demonstration of strength and likewise faltered as the pressure of her legs around him encouraged friction against a far more sensitive ache. Her tongue curled to press against her teeth, an effort not to permit him too much satisfaction, and then released a breathless huff of laughter that tickled the hair at his temple. "A lyev afraid of a challenge?"

“You consider me a lyev?” He held amusement in his eyes as he looked at her. There was so much about her that he found attractive that it was almost a relief to finally act on it. Blondes had always done something for him, it was why he kept Selina around despite her knowing the depths of his soul sometimes. They were different from his ghost and he did not want to be reminded of her even in the dark moments.

"I've seen you prowl." A tease, a flirtation, though not without a grain of sincerity. That he paced like a caged lion seemed less of revelation than the fact that Evanna had noticed, much less cared to observe. It was her own admission of appreciation, the intimation that her current willingness to be pinned against the window of his private chambers was not a new thing. Her arms slid around his neck, draped across each shoulder, the stir of arousal having unlocked a deeper azure as her gaze had heated.

The man conceded that she did in fact have a point in that respect with an incline of his head. “Then you are fully aware that lyev never backs down when they find a female.” He muttered kissing her lips gently. He did not need to be rough, she did not deserve that.

"Nobody has asked you to back down," she pointed out, murmured against his lips because when he pulled this close, his hands relieving the need for the vice of her legs to maintain her grip around his waist, Evanna had to admit to a slight imperfection in her ability to multitask.

“Nope. But just pointing out that I do not back down… ever.” It was beneath him to back down or even consider it an option. Why he was now known as the butcher of Betazed among other less savoury names.

"Then we shall have to make sure we remain on the same trajectory." An angled chin returned the sass to her posture, the very same she had been taunting him with all evening. The tip of her tongue wet her top lip and Evanna smiled around the coyness of its curl. "Neither do I."

As sexual interplay, the battle of wills played out as a tease, a taunt that promised an exchange of dominance if he was inclined to surrender his physical advantage to let her rile him up. On a deeper level, the challenge resonated were arguably much of their mutual attraction originated from. Evanna was no push-over. She did not concede and had, at least it was easy to expect, the intelligence not to present as a soft target. With any luck, they'd never be called to outwit each other but in potential alone, she'd at least make a worthy game of it.

She bent her arms, still draped over his shoulders, so that her elbows rested either side of his neck and toyed her fingers through the hair at each temple. "Why so concerned to point it out though? Do I seem hesitant?" Again, her lips twitched with amusement though her eyes danced with calculated appreciation as Evanna took in the sight of him, his own lips still damp with the taste of her. "I am aware of your stature, Reuben." His name, and her capacity to catch its intended inflection perfectly with an accent built to savour it, was a warm submission. It cut through layers of formality that, arguably, should already have been shattered by their current position.

His serious expression as he had been thinking on how to explain his thoughts broke into an almost genuine smile and he shook his head. She was anything but hesitant as was he but the argument was lost as he could not find the words in Russian or Standard to explain it. "Not hesitant. Does not matter. You are fully aware of who I am." He said with a shrug as he pulled her from the window, just holding her form against him for a moment.

If seeking to enthral her beyond the carnal, certainly activation of her curiosity was a fair tactic. There was a subtext in play that Evanna was still attempting to pin down, something to his demeanor that presented as more in need of an emotional buffer than physical release. Ordinarily, Evanna would have considered herself ill-equipped to nurture, having fled often enough from the enamored longing of potential suitors who had fashioned her into a version of their heart's desire without any consideration of who she actually was. That seemed...unlikely here. If there was one thing she could trust of the man it was to know his prey before acting. With that in mind, whatever it was he needed, apparently he considered her capable of providing it.

And so it wasn't with any deviousness that she unfastened his jacket slowly, a slow glide downwards to let the garment hang open loosely. And it wasn't a calculated seduction that Evanna's eyes didn't move from his as she likewise shed her own jacket, opting to remove it entirely and cast it to lay stretched along the floor. As symbols of their allegiance, their duty and the formality that bore the weight of past deeds, casting her pips aside left only her and whatever he wanted to make of her. Her undershirt, a standard black tank, exposed pale, flawless skin as well as an inherent practicality that even vanity had not interfered with. At a party of women dressed in their finest, Belyaev had chosen not to compete.

And yet look where she was.

Both hands, their long slender fingers stretched upwards, curled around his ribcage, slipped beneath the dangle of his uniform jacket to touch him beneath his uniform. It would take impossible layers to dig deep enough to find where he was just Reuben but excavation was not an overnight pursuit. She hadn't taken her eyes off him and she didn't now, measuring the beat of him as a steady pulse that fluttered against her fingertips.

"Or at least willing to learn." That her response had taken such a pause to connect back was typical of her. She didn't claim to know him fully. His was the only data set she hadn't been able to decrypt in a single sitting.

He did not answer as he shrugged out of the heavy jacket that she had so helpfully opened and dropped it to the floor. No one learned anything when it came to him. He was far too complicated even for one of the smartest women he knew. He did not need to be studied for someone to know that. “You do not need to learn right now.” He replied still holding her gaze as he backed towards where the bedroom was, beyond the living area.

Much like the living area, it was black and gold themed but where a huge couch and living area had been in the other room a bed filled the room and a sunken bath the other end. It was a similar set up in every room he had ever stayed in on the Imperial Palace.

Forced into an uncommonly willing retreat, Evanna trailed fingertips down the curve of his stomach to anchor at his waistband, and grinned. "On the contrary, moy kapitan, there is always something to learn right now."