08-17-2025, 01:29 PM
Amila barely noticed the bartender placing her drink in front of her. She knew this time with Ameen couldn't last long. He'd need to mingle with the guests, take command of the event. She didn't know when she'd be able to steal another moment with him, and she wanted to be present, savoring the seconds to see if any of them could will away some of the awkwardness they had been feeling.
As he leaned in toward her again she felt her heart skip a beat, the energy between them taking her back to the night they spent in Syria, then out on the water. He spoke keeping his voice low, creating a small bubble just for the two of them amidst the growing noise of the lounge. She was wrapped up in it. Wrapped up in him.
"Yeah, 'strange' is putting it mildly," he murmured, a wry smile touching his lips. "I feel like I'm trying to follow two sets of regulations at once: Starfleet's, and whatever this mission's unwritten rules are."
Amila deflated a little. He hadn't said anything that hadn't been on her mind as well. It had been at the forefront since she first reported to him as the Commanding Officer of the mission. It was the reason that it was strange between them. Awkward. She had just let herself hope that for a stolen second that they could forget about regulations and rules. She didn't mean to do anything inappropriate in front of the growing crowd, but just to think - if even for a moment - that they weren't walking on some dangerous precipice.
When Ameen took a small sip of his brandy, Amilla reached over and touched the base of her martini glass. She still hadn't touched her drink. He continued, speaking to her gently, less like a Commander, and more like something else even though he still spoke of work. "But... I'm glad you're here, Amila. Seeing you handle the preparations for this dinner, taking charge... it's been the one part of the last few days that's felt... right."
He let the comment hang in the air, a simple, honest statement. It was as much as he could say, here and now, but he wanted her to know.
Amila nodded, acknowledging the compliment as she took a heavy breath. She then shrugged, brushing the accolades away.
"You know, you were all on open comms for a bit when the Mediator first arrived. Torok turned them off when it seemed like things were turning awkward," she admitted. "But from what we heard, it was clear a lot of our preparations needed to be scrapped. I knew you and the F-O had bigger picture items to think about, but from a practical standpoint we still needed to start from the beginning. Parties are easy - and the staff did all of the work."
This though, standing here not being able to say what I'm really thinking about, is not so easy, she thought.
She reached for the stem of her glass, picking it up and finally taking a sip. She turned toward the crowd, breaking the bubble they'd created, though the tension between them remained, the pull she felt toward him undeniable in any sized room, regardless of the distance between them. "I suppose our guest of honor wants to show up fashionably late so he can make an appearance," she quipped. "He seems like the type." Amila turned only her head back toward Ameen and dropped her voice to a low murmur, "You were the 'tall, dark and handsome,' he was referring to, I take it?" She asked, her mischievous grin back along with the sparkle in her eyes.
==Tag Ameen==
As he leaned in toward her again she felt her heart skip a beat, the energy between them taking her back to the night they spent in Syria, then out on the water. He spoke keeping his voice low, creating a small bubble just for the two of them amidst the growing noise of the lounge. She was wrapped up in it. Wrapped up in him.
"Yeah, 'strange' is putting it mildly," he murmured, a wry smile touching his lips. "I feel like I'm trying to follow two sets of regulations at once: Starfleet's, and whatever this mission's unwritten rules are."
Amila deflated a little. He hadn't said anything that hadn't been on her mind as well. It had been at the forefront since she first reported to him as the Commanding Officer of the mission. It was the reason that it was strange between them. Awkward. She had just let herself hope that for a stolen second that they could forget about regulations and rules. She didn't mean to do anything inappropriate in front of the growing crowd, but just to think - if even for a moment - that they weren't walking on some dangerous precipice.
When Ameen took a small sip of his brandy, Amilla reached over and touched the base of her martini glass. She still hadn't touched her drink. He continued, speaking to her gently, less like a Commander, and more like something else even though he still spoke of work. "But... I'm glad you're here, Amila. Seeing you handle the preparations for this dinner, taking charge... it's been the one part of the last few days that's felt... right."
He let the comment hang in the air, a simple, honest statement. It was as much as he could say, here and now, but he wanted her to know.
Amila nodded, acknowledging the compliment as she took a heavy breath. She then shrugged, brushing the accolades away.
"You know, you were all on open comms for a bit when the Mediator first arrived. Torok turned them off when it seemed like things were turning awkward," she admitted. "But from what we heard, it was clear a lot of our preparations needed to be scrapped. I knew you and the F-O had bigger picture items to think about, but from a practical standpoint we still needed to start from the beginning. Parties are easy - and the staff did all of the work."
This though, standing here not being able to say what I'm really thinking about, is not so easy, she thought.
She reached for the stem of her glass, picking it up and finally taking a sip. She turned toward the crowd, breaking the bubble they'd created, though the tension between them remained, the pull she felt toward him undeniable in any sized room, regardless of the distance between them. "I suppose our guest of honor wants to show up fashionably late so he can make an appearance," she quipped. "He seems like the type." Amila turned only her head back toward Ameen and dropped her voice to a low murmur, "You were the 'tall, dark and handsome,' he was referring to, I take it?" She asked, her mischievous grin back along with the sparkle in her eyes.
==Tag Ameen==