Big Mistake

Chapter 5: Art for Arts Sake

Donovan enjoyed a couple of hours just laying back with Serazz, talking. The two spoke of their respective cultures and worlds in an almost comparative manner; with one mentioning a particular quirk of their culture before the other equates it to something of their own. Until the topic of the H'sha Environment Suit came up.
 

"We need the air around us to be of a certain minimum humidity or our skin dries out and it becomes painful to move." Serazz passes a slickened tendril across the man's cheek for emphasis. "The average uplifted species atmospheric requirements are too dry for us, and given the additional need to shield our empathic senses we decided to develop the suits."
 

Donovan nodded in understanding. "I take it most populated worlds have the usual mix of oxygen and so forth?"
 

"Not exactly." he could tell from her tone that she was trying very hard not to flat out tell him he's wrong. "Most races require differing levels of various chemicals in the atmosphere to survive. Fortunately any individual travelling on a Tribunal ship receives nanobot regulators that either produce or convert chemicals to produce the correct levels within the host body."
 

"So I've got a bunch of little robots inside my lungs ensuring my nitrogen content isn't too high? Cool."
 

Serazz looks puzzled until the translation software kicks in. "You humans use such strange terms."
 

"You don't know the half of it." He quips. Realising that might be another phrase he'd have to explain, the man sets his brain in motion to come up with a question for the H'sha. "So, where does one get new clothes?"
 

Serazz looks him over, then blinks as she thinks back to his earlier attire. "There's a H'sha tailor Named as Veruii the Deft in a shop downlevel. She is responsible for the robes the Da'Jen are required to wear." That last reference was shot to Donovan via a raised eyebrow and cheeky smile. "It may take a while, but the result will be well worth it."
 

"I will have to check the shop out sometime, my threads are getting a little... funky." Serazz was giving him that look again. "I mean, they're a little dirty, a little smelly and I have no spares or a way to clean them... I think. Maybe my room has a washing machine."
 

"As much as laying here with you would be a pleasurable way to spend our time, we-" she motions to her still sleeping sisters "should be getting back to work, and no doubt there is more of the ship you wish to see." The H'sha slides off Donovan's belly, landing on the floor a little dizzily as she helps the man up. "Do come back though. This was... exceptional."
 

Donovan grins, stretching. "No fear there, though I may need a bit of time to rest up." He blushes as Serazz picks up on his emotions. "You three sure know how to show a man a good time." The man stands, headed for the door to this small, private room.
 

"I'm glad you had a pleasurable experience." She replies, grinning. "See you soon, Mister Lane." She spoke his name as though it were honey, his libido wanting desperately to turn around and jump Serazz one more time. And Donovan was sure if he did so, she wouldn't mind. 

But given the pounding he had just taken, the man is unsure how well he'd last another round and decides it best to say his goodbyes for now. "See ya later- Definitely, see you later." Donovan emphasises, waving as he stumbles through the doorway towards his locked-away clothes. He passes a couple of H'sha sitting in the common sauna room, this time they turn to look at him with very lustful expressions. Donovan reasons they must have been the ones around earlier and perhaps felt whatever energy of his made it through the walls.
 

He gives them a quick salute before hightailing it to the storage locker. Whipping his clothes on he has one last look at the misty sauna behind him - taking in a lungful of that delicious chocolate air - before sidling over to the door and stepping through.
 

The hub of activity has quietened slightly, but not by much. Using his little information nanobots it only took a second or two to locate the store Serazz had mentioned, the man taking the leap of faith once more as he floats slowly to the bottom level. The door shines with a faint yellow glow from behind, Donovan spotting the source as it opens.
 

At a dimly lit desk near the back of the rather small space sits an H'sha in a rather strange version of their typical suits. Everything appears the same except for the arms, which appear to be just a thin layer of yellow latex clinging so tightly to her limbs beneath they might as well have been sprayed on. And given the level of technology on the ship, Donovan reasoned perhaps they were. A small head with massive eyes turns to look up at the new customer.
 

"Welcome to my business, Human." The voice sounds much older than Serazz, each syllable chosen with specific purpose. "Is there a task I can perform for you?"
 

Donovan is still getting used to the cultural differences in translated phrases, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders why Veruii chose that particular assortment of words. The rest of his mind on the other hand, was paying attention. "I was told you're a fine tailor, and was hoping to get a new set of clothes." He looks down at the sweat-stained top and unknown-stained pants. "I love Ka'len's robe by the way."
 

Veruii grins. "A great deal more than she does I'd wager." She motions him to come closer. Donovan steps forward, taking in his surroundings as he nears the small yellow orb illuminating the shop. Across the walls bolts upon bolts of thread are stacked, some thick and others thin, but all of differing colours so diverse, the man thought there were a few colours there that did not - or possibly should not - exist; a concept that unnerved the artist as well as driving his curiosity to new heights.
 

"Her loss..." is all Donovan could manage by the time he reaches the workspace. Between him and Veruii is a small desk, a foot or so above it a yellow sphere floats, illuminating the space with its soft glow. The desk itself is covered in a shiny orange material, looking almost on fire in the dim light as the H'sha is obviously midway through working it into something interesting.
 

"My services are not cheap," she muses, waiting for a reaction from the man,  and much  to her satisfaction, getting none "but I do not shy from quality."
 

"I would rather pay extra for something of quality than settle for something less just because it's cheaper." Something about that sentence made the man feel uncomfortable, and he was sure the empathic being had picked up on it. He sighed. "I'm up here by mistake, I'm sure the Council got to pack some luggage, but all I have are the clothes on my back, and some credits that an unknown individual has gifted me. I may be sent home tomorrow, or in a week, or in an hour. And if I can do so with some snazzy new threads to remember this place by, then all the better."
 

"The council will have received funds." She offers, looking the man up and down.
 

Donovan shrugs. "As have I, but if I'm slated to be beamed back down soon, I might as well spend what I've got; make the most of the situation."
 

"A good ideal to live by." Veruii nods in agreement. "Arms out." Donovan stands in a T pose, mimicking the H'sha's own demonstrative stance. She looks at his figure then twirls a tentacle. "Turn..." The man again does as he's told. "I would ask what style you are partial to, but I would understand as much of Human fashion as you would of Uplifted."
 

"I'll leave it to your best judgement then." Donovan says smiling.
 

The H'sha, however looks concerned. "Are you sure?"
 

"As long as I can sit down, walk and run in it, and don't require someone to help me get it on and off then by all means, let your imagination run wild."
 

Donovan isn't sure what's brighter; the floating yellow ball or the sparkle in Veruii's eyes. "I shall contact you when it is ready." She holds a tentacle out to him, the man pressing his finger against it as suggested and receiving her contact details in the process. "Until then, I need privacy for work." She nudges him for emphasis, causing a chuckle.
 

"Okay, I'll let you be. And thank you."
 

The small green and gold alien keeps gently pushing Donovan towards the exit. "One should wait until seeing the finished result before thanking the creator." Veruii warns, grinning.
 

"Thank you for taking the time to make it then, and I'll thank you for it separately, later." He waves as the door closes behind him, leaving him once more slightly puzzled in the big red hub of the leisure district.
 

The large form of a hurried Kagash pushes past Donovan more daintily than a being of her size really should, and it sets his mind to thoughts of Meeka and their bet. Leaning against the wall to be out of the way, he asks the information hardware "Is there somewhere on this ship I can get Art supplies?"
 

The internal display pops to life, a small box appearing just below the centre of his vision. 'Four stalls in the Market Hub contain items that may be classified as 'Art Supplies'. Would you like to redefine your search parameters?'
 

"Uh," Donovan squints an eye as he pushes his brain to think over such a simple and trivial question "What about paper and pencils?"
 

'No similar items found.' Donovan huffs in annoyance; he could name dozens of art materials known to humans without finding one in common with any of the alien species here.
 

"Okay, what material would be easiest to acquire that can be marked easily?"
 

'Dond'ral sheeting can be found at Pavol's All-Store.'
 

Donovan nods, mentally storing the name for later. "And what marks Dond'ral Sheeting?"
 

'Numerous items are able to mark Dond'ral sheeting. What level of permanency do you require?'
 

"What's the most permanent you've got?" He asks, getting more frustrated with each new step in the conversation.
 

'Tar Acid will erode the metal surface quickly and is permanent.'
 

Donovan's mind clicks into gear, an idea forming within that he hopes will impress the opinionated Kagash. "Got anything that can be applied to the sheeting that would prevent the acid from affecting it?"
 

'Valen Wax is unaffected by Tar Acid.'
 

"Brilliant! Where can I find the Wax 'n' Acid?" Donovan had hit on a perfect idea, he just hoped he could pull it off.
 

'Tar Acid and Valen Wax can both be found at Pavol's All-Store. Would you like directions?'
 

"Lead on McDuff!" He chimes, grinning widely. The grin turns to a confused smile as he waits for directions to light up the mini-map in the corner of his vision. Realising the phrase might be too much for the translation service to handle, he dumbs it down "Yes, please." The map brightens with a blue line headed the way of the arboretum. "Can you include the service duct Ka'Len and I took yesterday?"
 

An information box pops into view. 'Utilise all public service ducts from now?' Donovan nods in agreement. The map updates, pointing him in the direction of the door to the Market/Leisure Hubs duct. With a determined stride he sets off towards his artistic destiny.
 

After climbing the access ladder and exiting into the market, Donovan makes his way to the indicated store. Unlike the majority of stalls occupying the market, this one is actually built into the wall not too far from the hallway to the arboretum. Sauntering over he comes to the entrance. It appears the shop is separated into two parts. The first is similar to a normal grocery aisle, shelves lined with what the man assumes to be popular products; their alien labels translating to things like Scale Wax, Protein Gum, Muscle Relaxant and so on.
 

The other section simply consists of a bank of holographic displays. Donovan witnesses an H'sha manipulating the coloured shapes, the end result being the opening of a hatch behind the display and a small box being pushed through by hidden machinery. Glancing around the shelves briefly Donovan doesn't notice any of his desired items, so steps over to one of the unused displays.
 

As he approaches, the coloured shapes appear like he'd seen so many other times on wrist mounted devices the various beings on this ship seem to have. Except this time he sees words and symbols clearly displayed on and around the myriad of squares circles, and triangles. Reasoning that only the one operating the display can see the words, he sets about finding the three materials.
 

A search function proves useful and in moments he has all three items located, along with a cloth of sorts that will theoretically absorb the tar, and a stick of polishing material simply known as Grit. Affirming his purchase, the panel slides back to reveal a thin box nearly half his height. Looking at it suspiciously, his display creates a faux X-Ray view; revealing the sheet of metal within and the other four items stacked neatly in their own package at one end.
 

Smiling, Donovan decides to drop Meeka a message to see when she's free. Walking out to one of the Market benches with the package, he struggles with the transcribing process to get across the right sentiment before requesting it be sent. A nervous few moments pass with Donovan trying to distract himself with reading the translated titles of the various stores around him. He doesn't have to wait long before getting a reply.
 

'Meeka: Not required at post. Domicile location linked.' Donovan is unsure if the shortened response is due to a shorthand messaging convention within the culture, or the annoyance of Meeka having anything to do with 'Art'. He hefts the package over one shoulder and heads towards the Kagash's quarters.
 

In a hallway off a part of the Arboretum he hadn't explored, the man came to a halt when directed by his map. Reaching out to knock on the door with his free hand, it instead opens to reveal a somewhat annoyed looking Meeka.
 

"Let's get this over with." She grumbles, motioning him towards a beanbag chair. Unlike his room, this one is significantly less Spartan. Lining the walls are various bladed weapons of many different styles, several seemingly natural in formation. The floor is cluttered with what Donovan can only assume are fitness-related weights and other body-maintenance devices. The nanobots confirm his suspicions and begin listing weight values in more familiar measurements. "Well?" Meeka says, noticing Donovan staring at her belongings.
 

"Right, okay." He says, somewhat flustered. "But I'm just letting you know, I've not used these materials before, so bear with me." She grins at that comment, figuring she's already won their bet. Donovan's not ready to concede so easily. Deciding the subject of this work needs to be personal, he poses a bold question as he takes the seat indicated. "What was your greatest victory?"
 

"Excuse me?" Meeka just about falls into her chair in surprise.
 

"Your greatest victory. The time you felt proudest of your work, or a situation where you proved yourself as a warrior." Donovan was smiling a bastardly smile, the Kagash put squarely on the back foot.
 

Meeka's eyes flit left and right as she tries to locate a specific time within her memory for the artist to immortalise. She nods subconsciously as one such time springs to mind. "The Broken Tooth were tasked with securing a landing zone for the evacuation of Athel Kuras." A galactic map flits into Donovan's vision, zooming in on a purple ball of alien jungle. "I was a... Private," the translation software lags slightly, trying to identify the appropriate human military rank. "and more than half the squad had already been felled by the Coalition of Blood."
 

Another pop up sprang into view. 'Coalition of Blood: A pirate organisation that grew to encompass several civilisations. The Blood War is still in progress despite the Coalition being driven to the outer edge of the Galaxy.'
 

"Most of my squad gave their lives to protect the civilians of Blue Outpost. By the time the rescue ships arrived we had been pushed to the rooftop, but the Coalition leader - Iron Talon - was already waiting. I knew I was no match for him, but the rest of my squad were badly injured from fighting, and I only had to distract him long enough for the ships to arrive." She breathes deeply before releasing a pained sigh. "So that's what I did. For several Dah-"
 

'1 Dah = 8.64 Earth Minutes' the tooltip brought an annoyed stare from Donovan as the story immersion breaks.
 

"He and I fought. We traded blows, and I knew he was toying with me. But eventually the ships arrived. When he realised this he struck me down with a blow to my chest, intending to walk over me to the others. But I stood again. So he struck with his blade. I failed to parry and took the hit," she ruffles fur along her left shoulder to reveal a thick scar beneath "but not before lodging my own blade in his leg." The smile that finally crosses Meeka's all too serious face is empty save for the smallest tinge of pride, showing how much her injury truly affects her psyche.
 

"I retrieve my blade and we strike each other, matching swords until with an almighty snap my blade breaks in half." She motions to the halved weapon adorning the wall above her doorway. "I was knocked to the ground by that blow. With my weapon sundered, I was as good as dead. So death held no fear over me." This time her smile is full of emotion, specifically satisfaction. "I leapt from the ground, one half of the blade in each hand," she holds her arms above her head demonstrating the pose "and buried them in each of his shoulders."
 

Meeka closes her eyes, losing herself in the memory. It takes a few moments, but she eventually comes round and continues her tale. "Two Bahts later, I receive a package from an anonymous sender. Inside is my blade, still broken but newly engraved. The text upon  one half reads 'The only worthy opponent to survive'."
 

Donovan can't help himself. "What does the other half say?"
 

She laughs, raising fluffy eyebrows in amusement. "'You are mine to kill' followed by his emblem. Basically," she says with pride "I'm immune from persecution from the Coalition, with the sole exception of Iron Talon himself."
 

"Sounds like someone has a crush." Donovan lets the sentence escape before his mind can censor it.
 

"A what?"
 

The translation software is obviously having a hard time keeping up with the slang terms Donovan keeps spouting, so he decides to abandon the explanation before he starts. "Never mind." He taps his finger against the still unopened package as he thinks of how to attempt the semi-commissioned picture. With a smile, he begins unfolding the box to reveal the materials within. "Just give me a few 'Dah', and I should have something for you.
 

Meeka starts the session seated, watching the man with a combination of mild amusement and annoyance. But as his hands build in passion - and the tip of his tongue pokes out the side of his mouth - she stands and begins pacing. Each time she tries to get into an angle to see his work he shifts position to deny her. Several times he changes drawing material, from the smeared acid to the stick of wax and back. When he reaches for the Grit, Meeka tries to help so she can see his progress, but he tells her off instead. "Not till I'm done, oh impatient one..."
 

"It's you who's taking too long, human." She quips, slouching back into her beanbag across the room.
 

She doesn't have to wait too long as Donovan pulls out the last clean corner of the cloth to wipe down the metal sheet one final time. Holding the Dond'ral sheeting by the top and bottom, he spins it round to face his client. "So?"
 

Meeka stares at it. She sits up, staring at it harder, her eyes wide and brow furrowed. Then she stands, her face contorted with the sheer emotion powering through her. Donovan gulps as she approaches, but doesn't falter as she reaches out with large, tense paws to take the metal canvas from him.
 

Depicted is a simple and somewhat abstract depiction of an airborne Kagash, blade in either hand leaping toward another figure. During his sketching the man had found images of Iron Talon through his internal display and did his best to do the figure justice, along with that of Meeka. The acid formed a kind of negative space around the two figures, their form preserved by the wax and movement accentuated by the barely visible strokes of acid; a rather red thumb on Donovan's right hand a testament to his devotion to the artistic method.
 

But while her eyes flit between the two strong figures, each defiant in their own unique way, Meeka is repeatedly drawn to the only section of the work that is polished; two streaks emanating from each hand of her likeness. She looks up to the broken blade above the door, then back down to the relief. He had managed to not only capture the shape almost perfectly - contrasting the looser lines used to form both her and her adversary's figure - but he had managed to somehow capture the angles the shards were being held in, adding to the dynamic pose of her purposeful leap.
 

Donovan releases the work to Meeka's grip before standing. "I know it's not much, but I hope you like it." Meeka doesn't respond, her eyes are so full of emotion the man is unable to read which one she is experiencing, only that whatever it is, it's intense. Realising he may have bitten off more than he can chew, he slowly collects the remaining artistic materials and empty box, aiming to reach the door before an act of anti-art aggression is committed against him.
 

"This..." Meeka's voice falters for the first time in Donovan's presence. "This is infuriating."
 

Donovan was not expecting that. "Infuriating?" He asks before clearing his throat. "Infuriating? My works been called shit and average, but Infuriating is a new one-"
 

"This... shouldn't be like this." He slumps, thinking he's gotten too much of it wrong compared to her mental image. "This is just metal, just broken metal."
 

Now the man's interest is peaked. "What do you mean?"
 

Meeka's breathing quickens as her hands shake. "This is just an image. Just you marking metal. But it's not." She shakes her head trying to find the right words. "This isn't what it looked like," Donovan releases the pent up air in a disappointed huff, only to choke on the intake as she continues "but it's what it feels like. No. That doesn't make sense, does it?"
 

Donovan feels concern that he's upset his new friend, so puts the materials down again and steps over to Meeka, putting a hand on her solid fuzzy forearm. "Are you okay?"
 

"You turned me into a mark on Dond'ral," she almost sobs, turning to face him for the first time since viewing his work "and it is the most glorious I have ever been." She carefully takes down the broken blade of her tale, and replaces it with the artwork; gently placing each half of the blade on either side of it. The wall seems to just grab the objects, as though magnetised or made of double sided tape. "Each time I leave this room I see that blade and am reminded of that fight, reminded that every encounter could be my last, and if I push myself I can overcome any obstacle."
 

Donovan doesn't need to be told anymore, realising how much his work seems to have affected the battle hardened warrior. He doesn't need her admittance of being wrong about artists, moving up beside the being several heads taller than he the man wraps a comforting arm as far around her waist as possible.
 

She turns, looking down to him with moist eyes. "I..." Donovan squeezes her in response; not able to shift the muscled mass, but she humours him anyway. He begins to worry about her comments and tries to find a way to comfort her further.
 

"Let's sit." He says, half asking, half commanding. And to his surprise, Meeka does so; right there on the floor. "I meant the chair-" he begins to quip before being pulled down into the giant furry lap. He lands at first on her knee but as she manhandles him Donovan ends up facing her with a leg either side of her waist, her arms wrapped around his back to hold him in place.
 

"You need to tell me why." She demands, eyes burrowing into Donovan's soul.
 

"Why what?"
 

Meeka blinks as she looks back up to the artwork. "Why Dond'ral, why that pose, why..." She takes a ragged breath "...why everything." Her arms hug tighter, pulling the man closer to her four large fur-covered breasts.
 

"Um, well..." Donovan's mind is trying to drag him down one path of thought, but Meeka's emotional state keeps pushing him back to reality. Trying not to eye the mammaries before him he tries to form a coherent response with the least art-speak as possible. "You, you are such a powerful individual, so strong and... and... indomitable." The translation software struggles so he moves on. "To do you justice, the materials needed to be just as resilient. But when you told me your story, everything just seemed perfect. Your cut arm becomes a deep gash in the work; both figures of equal importance just as you two were matching your blows in the fight; your desperation in one final strike matching his determination; the broken blade shining through the haze of battle..."
 

Before Donovan can continue rambling over his choices Meeka pulls him into a deep and passionate hug. Any tighter and he would be clambering for breath, but as the big arms pull him inwards, so does he respond. Barely able to get his hands to meet in the middle of her back, Donovan lays his head on her breast as she lays her chin on his shoulder. "Thank you." She whispers, her words so full of emotion it brings a tear to the man's eye as he squeezes her gently in response.
 

Meeka shifts position slightly, allowing Donovan's lower half to slide down into her lap further, resulting in his slowly growing manhood poking at her belly through his pants. Feeling a little sheepish he turns to face her and is met with a long and broad tongue sweeping up his jawline. Barbed like a cats but not quite as coarse it scrapes along the man's stubble before playfully flicking at his ear, all the while the two figures stare directly at each other. The sheer length and prehensile nature of the monstrous muscle leaves Donovan somewhat dumbfounded, which Meeka takes full advantage of as she licks the other side of his face.
 

He pushes forward as her tongue once again retreats beyond her jowl-like lips and presses a kiss upon them. The Kagash expression for confusion is a rare sight, and Donovan was seeing it in spades over the last few minutes. "So that is the human custom of Kissing?" She mulls it over, Donovan aware from her expression that she seems undecided as to her opinion, prompting him to try again.
 

Pushing himself up to her mouth while pulling her head down to his, the man once more plants a passionate kiss on Meeka's lips. Only this time he does not retreat as quickly, instead opening his mouth slightly and turning his head as his arousal builds. Meeka responds in kind, tilting her head the other way as Donovan's hesitant tongue finds hers.
 

She pushes him away. "You wish to taste my mouth?"
 

Donovan's laughter reverberates throughout the small space. "I've never heard it put that way before." He grins, calming himself. "If you don't like it, then that's fine, I can keep my tongue to myself."
 

"It's not that," Meeka looks at him again, somewhat cautiously. "The concept is just so odd."
 

"You just licked my face." He replies sarcastically.
 

"Which is a very personal custom to my people." She says, half pushing the man away. But Donovan refuses to budge, pulling her head almost uncomfortably towards his.
 

"And so is a kiss." He stares the massive figure down, not wanting his actions or words to be misconstrued. "Humans will kiss someone on the cheek if they deem them a friend, or on the hand to show respect. But a kiss on the mouth is personal." He pushes his face even closer - trying to drive home his seriousness - until their foreheads touch. An act which causes Meeka's eyes to grow even wider. "A kiss on the mouth is about more than respect or friendship, it's about passion. It's about sharing your being - your soul - even if only for a moment, showing the person you care enough to share it with exactly how you feel. And," he gulps, pushing hard for his next words "And I felt we were - are - sharing a moment."
 

"Kagash are not gentle lovers." She says, her voice bursting with a newfound lust.
 

"I figured as much."
 

"The males are very forceful in their need."
 

"I'm different." Donovan states, though trying to sound tough.
 

"Our coupling will not be permanent."
 

Donovan thinks this one over, taking a bit of time for the translation to click in his head. "I have been told my stay in this place is temporary, and so I choose who to spend my time with very carefully." The subtlety of his comment misses the emotionally charged Kagash. "I'm here, in your room. It's your move."
 

Meeka finally takes the hint and clumsily but passionately presses her face against his, pushing her tongue between his lips as they fall into a deep kiss. Donovan wrestles with her muscle to the best of his ability, but it's strength and sheer size outpaces him until she is lapping at the entire inside of his mouth. The strange sensation of those rubbery barbs against the roof of his mouth causes a flutter of panic within the man's heart but it's soon pushed aside from the rapidly increasing erection below.
 

She finally pulls away from her soon-to-be lover, her tongue pulling at his lips as it withdraws. 

"Basic human anatomy was part of the information we were given upon departure for your planet," Meeka's voice is softer and lower, almost purring "but there were some parts left out. The races on this craft were specifically chosen for many reasons, but one of the primary ones was to do with our social habits." A large furry paw begins to run its way across Donovan's back, claws making small circles as it goes. "The four Tribunal races all partake in what is known as 'practice reproduction'."
 

The man nods in understanding. "I think I heard someone mention that before."
 

"Good, then you may know that as such we consider reproduction with other species an enjoyable experience despite the inability to procreate." The claw's circular motion pulls at Donovan's dressing gown, the beige fabric slowly pooling near his shoulder blades. "Know then, that it was the Tribunal's decision upon our arrival that we should abstain from any such contact with your people given the similarities in societal behaviours between us have been misunderstood," Meeka's grin turns "unless of course, we are provoked..."
 

"Yeah," Donovan admits, looking down to his stomach full of butterflies "I doubt many of my people would be of the right mindset to allow themselves to lay with a non-human." The paw had finally pulled up the back of his robe, and claws were now lightly grazing the small of his back, eliciting a gasp and moan of pleasure. As he turns to once again look into Meeka's eyes, he smiles. "But as I said before, I'm different."
 

"So you are." A  broad tongue quickly shoots out to flick the man's nose as Meeka chuckles, her stomach undulating against Donovan's now hardened member. Feeling the protrusion she uses her wide paw to push his body harder onto her own, the man almost losing his head between the top row of firm but malleable mammaries. "This should be interesting."
 

"Interesting how?" Comes a muffled response from Meeka's bust.
 

"Kagash males have a very long, but very thin organ due to the cold climate of our home planet. Yours is shorter," Donovan turns bright red, not that Meeka could tell given his current position "yet wider. The Shylar are normally too thick for my people to take, and the H'sha, well..."
 

"I'd imagine that slime'd take a while to get out." He jests.
 

Meeka's chuckle vibrates through the man. "You only make that mistake once. Gotta say though, it was quite the experience." She shakes her head, lifting Donovan to bring his face even with hers. "Time for a new one." Placing the man on his feet she turns over. Preparing to present herself to him, she motions for him to disrobe, which he does with great speed leaving the items piled on the floor at his feet.
 

Donovan's eyes widen as the ivory fur before him parts in a most peculiar way. Between Meeka's legs a flap of fur-covered skin the size of his hand peels away, attached at the top of her mound it opens like a landing gear bay to reveal black flesh beneath; moist and hairless. His cock twitches at the sight of this alien snatch, the shape not too dissimilar from an anus though considerably more puffy and teardrop-shaped with the peak at the base of the now fully open covering.
 

"It's for protection in the cold," Meeka offers, looking back to see the man staring at the skin flap "and to guide the more hapless of our kind to the right place." She adds with a snigger.
 

"Quick question," he takes a few steps towards the puckered hole, his cock resting gently at the entrance as he feels the heat radiating from it "how long do your people usually take to mate?"
 

The question was not something Meeka had expected to be asked, but after a moment of consideration she lets out a sighed estimation "Anywhere from a Ponn to a couple Dah. Why?"
 

'1 Ponn = 1/12 Dah = 43.2 seconds' Donovan glares at the little triangle in the corner of his vision, but it doesn't turn the tooltip off until he tries to look beyond it. 

Regaining his composure he answers with a grin. "Good, that'll give me just enough time for round one."
 

"Round one?-" the words were barley out of her mouth when Meeka feels Donovan's cock slam home. She lets out a moan from the intrusion, which given it's guttural nature sounds to the man more like a moo than anything else.
 

Buried to the hilt barely halfway into the dark tunnel, he could feel rings of muscle massage his cock, pulling him deeper into the well lubricated but tight hole. The sensations start at the base of his cock and roll backwards an inch or two before being grabbed by another muscle while the first gently strokes back along the length to its start. To Donovan it feels like he is fucking a gigantic, wriggling caterpillar.
 

Grabbing her hips he withdraws before once more impaling Meeka's slickened pussy on his man pole. She moans again, louder this time and with enough force that it reverberates all the way down her body to the twitching intruder. Now it's Donovan's turn to moan as he feels himself drawing close already.
 

He turns his single thrust approach into a more piston-like affair, withdrawing a decent distance as the barely-ridged walls clamp down on his thicker than average member before pushing forth with speed, aided by Meeka's lustful muscles. Her lubrication builds quickly, ensuring the two are sliding with little friction but maximum sensation within moments.
 

"Donovan..." She moans, deep and needy. "Sunt me..." The translation processors run overtime to pick up the colloquial slack. "Sunt me Donovan, sire me." The words click into place, causing the lustful confusion to turn to lustful conviction. He picks up the pace, each thrust demanding her attention as his well girthed rod proves effective at finding both of their most sensitive of buttons.
 

Donovan reaches his peak, and with a final grunt he pushes himself deep within Meeka. Both figures seem frozen in time as they reach their own climaxes together, a near silent moan shared as the man's seed pours forth. Grasping for a better grip on her body, a hand finds its way to one of the smaller furred breasts, squeezing it as more an instinctual response than any conscious decision.
 

"Ooooohhhhmmm..." Meeka releases her silence in the form of a guttural growl, so bestial it causes Donovan's prick to jump and throb within her despite its recent satisfaction. Another few seconds of lust-fuelled moans at the man's touch and she pulls forward, allowing the semi-hard member to slip free with a small gush of their combined fluids before being covered almost immediately by that flap of skin and fur. Turning around she eyes the gooey mess and pads over to it on all fours.
 

"That was-" Donovan can't finish his sentence before Meeka's broad tongue is running up the sensitive length of his cock. The rubbery barbs start their sensuous assault with his well used balls, scraping over the nodules with grace and curiosity as she savours his taste and scent. The tongue is wide enough to wrap around both golf ball-sized orbs and still meet at the top of his shaft, creating a numbed tunnel that encapsulates and slides its way up to the tip.
 

As the cum-laden tongue reaches Donovan's sensitive glans it squeezes, massaging every last drop of human seed from the turgid member. Convinced she has it all, Meeka maintains eye contact with the man as she withdraws her tongue slowly, swallowing sultrily  before licking her lips. The sight brings renewed vigour to the man, his cock inflating once more to the notion of of more alien nookie. But despite this reaction, he pauses to think as his face adopts a concerned expression.
 

"What is wrong, lover?" She says concerned.
 

"Body is willing, but I'm not sure I have much left to-" he perks up, sudden realisation striking him as he glances at his dressing gown and the vial of fermented fruit within. "Never mind." He quickly ruffles through the beige material before finding the berry. Sliding it from its container he pops it in his mouth, much to the amusement of his lover.
 

The alcoholic tang hits hard, the subtle flavours of kiwi trying their best to overpower it as he chews on the iridescent fruit. A few seconds of savouring the taste and he swallows, the effects - as before - almost immediate. He feels a strange heat flow through his nethers, the flesh rising to full mast once more as his testes churn with purpose.
 

Donovan's surprised and somewhat content expression makes the Kagash chuckle. "A gift from Ka'len?" She asks, a wry smile painted across her face. Donovan nods, smiling. "Lucky you, I shall have to thank her later."
 

Meeka turns again, facing her rump towards the man as the flap of skin once more pulls away, this time revealing a creamy surprise; Donovan's seed still lining her tight hole. But he places a hand on her hip and tries to push her to the side. "No, something different this time." She looks back quizzically as he makes a twirling motion with his finger. "Roll over, on your back."
 

Meeka does what is asked of her, albeit with an expression bordering between confusion and caution. Once on her back, Donovan finds one of the few cushions in the room and pushes it against her rear. Taking the hint she lifts her arse up, allowing the material to be placed under her, elevating her nethers from the floor by a decent margin. Then with a bit of suggestion he moves Meeka's legs so her knees are straight up and feet are at the base of the cushion. "What-"
 

"Just let me know if this feels good. If not, we'll do it your way." He interrupts, waddling forward on his knees until his hardened cock lines itself up once more. With a gingerly shove, Donovan buries himself inside Meeka, his cum providing the perfect lubricant to get him as deep as possible in one stroke. The pair moan as they realise how much deeper he got in that one push.
 

"Yes. Keep doing that..." Meeka's tongue is lolling out the side of her mouth as her eyes roll back in pleasure. Donovan - not being one to disappoint - withdraws and thrusts again. The ridges he barely felt on the underside of his cock before now quite present as they grind against his cock head. He picks up the pace, punctuating every pistoning motion with an animalistic grunt as his partner moos her appreciation.
 

With both hands tightly grabbing Meeka's waist for leverage, Donovan gets an eyeful of her four glorious breasts bouncing before him in time to his thrusts. The sight causes a throb in his member, and a boost to his strength, ploughing the alien pussy with increased vigour. Meeka begins to lose it, her tunnel clamping down on the man as he repeatedly slams his length into her well-lubed hole.
 

Donovan's strokes become quicker as his breath staggers, leading the Kagash impaled upon his member to grin madly as she grabs his forearms with her massive paws. "Give me your seed!"
 

His response is wordless and immediate. The deep booming voice commanding him to come inside her is more than enough to drive Donovan over the edge. Thrusting as hard as he is able, the man paints her deep tunnel with his newly formed spunk. Jets of it shoot forth, each warm blast causing Meeka to twitch with pleasure as her own orgasm washes over her in waves. Each throb of Donovan's cock sends a ripple of pleasure through both lovers, eventually breaking down their self control.
 

This means that with his member still loosing it's creamy seed within Meeka, Donovan falls forward; his arms slipping from the orgasmically distracted Kagash's grip as he face plants into her heaving bosom. The now unoccupied paws slide over his back and downwards, holding his arse in place as the last few throbbing pulses empty into the spasming passage.
 

There the two lovers lie, panting from their exertions, the sensation of Donovan's cock still twitching inside Meeka causing the two to gasp occasionally. He grabs her shoulders, using what little strength he has left to pull his way up the massive Kagash frame. His member pops free of the warm tightness they were both enjoying and rubs against the skin flap as it moves up the otherwise furred body.
 

"Donovan..." Meeka moans, collecting herself "Most species do not mate more than once in a single session." A contented moan reverberates out from the larger pair of breasts. It's translation uneeded by the Kagash as she grins, one of her hands ruffling Donovans hair playfully in response. "It is something I will be experiencing again."
 

The direct statement brought a sense of realisation to Donovan as it dawned on him exactly what he'd gotten himself into. It's not that he hadn't thought before about what Meeka's attitude might be, but he hadn't honestly expected this. Kagash anatomy was much larger than a humans, and he had been under the impression she would be disappointed by him to some degree. But apparently even his average girth was enough to drive her to wanting more.
 

If it weren't buried between Meeka's glorious mounds, his bright red face flush with pride would have been easily read. But needing her own form of approval it was up to the Kagash to inquire directly, something Donovan was wondering if she would ask  "Was I better than a human?"
 

Her wording was far from what Donovan thought she'd use, but he didn't need time to think. Raising his head enough to move his jaw properly, he stares up into the huge questioning eyes of Meeka's bovine-like face, her tongue's tip just barely poking out from behind her lips. "You're in a different league entirely." He pants, sighing as a confused expression spreads across Meeka's face. "The translation thing can be a real bastard sometimes." She nodded, intrigued and unsure by what his previous statement meant.
 

Donovan shifts himself to sitting atop Meeka's lap, legs draped over her side as he slides his hands down her muscular arms to the furry paws at their end, gripping them as best as possible given the difference in size of their respective digits. "That was a far more intense and enjoyable experience than I can ever remember having back home." The man watched as a smug satisfaction grew from the confused expression before him.
 

"Then you are prepared to mate again, before your return?" The response from Meeka was less a question and more a statement as she motioned for Donovan to get off her.
 

He obliged, nodding. "Gimme a while to recover and you've got yourself a deal." He grins, arching his back as vertebrae pop back into place. His clothes are flung at him, wrapping around his head thanks to the Kagash's aim. He puts them on, a wry smile across his face as she raises her eyebrows mockingly.
 

"Perhaps get Ka'len to prakka more berries first." The translation software again kicks into gear, listing the process known as 'prakka' to be similar to that of fermentation when making alcohol, except done under greater atmospheric pressure and using a kind of meaty sugar.
 

"That," Donovan exclaims, slipping his pyjama shirt on as gracefully as one can after such a workout "that is a guarantee."
 

Meeka stands, giving the man a firm pat on the shoulder as she gazes back up to the recently completed artwork above the doorway. "Leave me, I must meditate on your-" she stumbles, knowing the word but not wishing to speak it "art."
 

Donovan flicks the back of his robe up to the back of his neck, smiling as he steps towards the door. Without another word, he salutes the Kagash, leaving her staring above him as the metal slides back into place, leaving him alone in the empty, silent hallway.
 

The last hours events finally caught up to the man as he lets out a long sigh. "I just got a Kagash to appreciate art..." He thinks about the absurdity of that comment, knowing so little about these races he couldn't tell whether that was an accomplishment because the species as a whole disliked the notion of art or whether it was just Meeka. Regardless, Donovan felt a pang of pride within him for having done as such, prepared to step off towards some more exploration.
 

"Messieu Lane!" The sudden outburst of sound was shocking enough, let alone the accented declaration of the man's name. Donovan whips around to see the bubbly face of Dr. Ensoleillé Janvier waving at him from the other end of the corridor. He blinks in bemusement before smiling and waving back, his feet had purpose now and drew him closer to the only human he'd seen in close to a day.
 

"Doctor Janvier." He grins, looking the woman over. Adorning her lab coat is an eclectic assortment of trinkets no doubt picked up from the various shops in the market, most seeming to serve a similar purpose to the small badges and pins charities would sell, though offering holographic or moving images instead of just a picture or words. Her hair has also been braided, interwoven with a material that looks like gold-tinted glass.
 

The two embrace briefly, the French scientist far to excited with her exploration and findings to contain herself. "How are you? How's your stay? Isn't this whole place amazing!" Donovan had heard the term 'giddy as a schoolgirl' before, but this was the first time he'd actually seen what such a phrase would describe. "Everyone is so friendly and helpful."
 

He runs a hand through his ruffled hair, not convinced any amount of immediate personal grooming could better his appearance. "Friendly is a good word for it." He grins sheepishly, hoping the phrasing wouldn't open up unwanted questions. "I'm a bit peckish, up for some lunch?"
 

"You mean afternoon tea?" She quips, eyebrow raised.
 

"Is it that late already?" The little clock on the internal display flicks to life, and given a little bit of puzzling in his currently frazzled mental state he figures out the time. "Fair enough. Afternoon tea it is."
 

Janvier looks past him to the hallway beyond, naught but accomodation in this section. "Is you're room down here?"
 

Donovan's mind raced for appropriate phrasing that wouldn't expose his recent sexual antics but still remain as truthful as possible. "I was commissioned to do a piece of art for one of the Kagash on board. I just handed it over." He motions to the blank space down the hallway where the door to Meeka's room is. "Though I didn't expect her reaction to the piece to be quite as emotional as it was..."
 

The look of slight concern on the man's face brings many questions to Ensoleillé's mind, but she blinks them away to be discussed later. "Walk with me." She offers her arm to Donovan, and he takes it gladly as the two fall into step walking back towards the market. "I have had little time to explore this ship properly," she sighs, albeit smiling "what with all the meetings with the tribunal."
 

"How’s that going?" Donovan inquires, his curiosity over the reason for everything happening suddenly thrust to the fore again. Then he remembers the reason he hasn't been told. "I suppose I haven't been given clearance yet."
 

Dr. Janvier grunts unimpressed. "The Major is a shit." She clears her throat as Donovan can't help but smirk, the comment more direct than Ensoleillé had intended but descriptive enough for the man to understand.
 

"That well eh?"
 

The French woman pulls her arm away, turning to face Donovan as they come to a halt. "As far as he's concerned, you being here is a big mistake."
 

"Well," he sighs "can't fault him on that logic."
 

A quick fist buries itself in the shoulder of his robe."No! Don't think like that! You are here for a reason. You'll see." Dr. Janvier smooths the fabric back over as a kind of apology or at least acknowledgement of her outburst. "Prove to the council and Tribunal that you're worth keeping around."
 

He smiles cheekily. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that? You're all scientists or military advisors or whatever. I'm a- well..." Donovan shrugs "an artist... I suppose."
 

"The Tribunal informed us you have been making friends, no?"
 

"In a manner of speaking." The words were no sooner out of Donovans mouth than he was regretting them. Trying not to stumble into badly phrased admissions, he collects his thoughts and continues "I've chatted with some of the races here and they all seem pretty easy to get along with. Learned quite a lot of customs and stuff."
 

The doctor's eyebrows go up at that, her professional interest peaked. "Such as?"
 

Donovan offers his arm this time, as he motions for the two to continue toward the market. "Where to start..." He squints one eye in concentration "well, the H'sha tend to colonise marshy worlds, and their expression 'what river brought you here' - or something like that - is related to when a river would flood and carry their raft-like nests downstream to another area and those living there already would want to know what the newcomers purpose is. They're pretty spiritual, so if they end up somewhere due to a flood or something, then they tend to stay because of 'God's will', pretty much."
 

Dr Janvier nods in approval. "I suppose religions everywhere have similar tenants."
 

"Doesn't surprise me. I do want to ask them more about their religion, waiting for the right time though."
 

Donovan is softly elbowed in the ribs "What else have you discovered?" A curious smile breaks across the woman's face as a plan begins to emerge.
 

"Well, the N'gaa have a traditional board game called Tolbek that's kinda like Go or Othello where they used to use their own scales as pieces but now just use computer displays. The Kagash don't seem to like art, given both Meeka and the Kagash at the Tribunal’s reaction... I really should look into that." The tooltip within his display brings up a long article on Kagash beliefs concerning art, which he dismisses instantly.
 

"The Da'Jen come from an entirely different plane of existence, and when they arrive here they must make a physical body to store their essence in, known as the Aether. The two on board are sisters and they chose almost identical appearances, but..." He chuckles, much to Janvier's curiosity "it could've been more appropriate than what they ended up with. Oh," he looks over to the chestnut haired beauty in his arm "did you know they have Tacos here?"
 

"I did see that sign, I thought it was just a translator issue."
 

"Nope. Actual, factual Tacos. The Shylar that runs it even wears a sombrero and poncho. Though the real meat ones are expensive, but damn well worth it."
 

Once again, the doctor stops and forces Donovan to face her. "Tacos. Earth Tacos." The disbelief in her eyes was only overpowered by the shock in the rest of her face.
 

"Yep. Turns out some Shylar rocked up at Tribunal central a couple hundred years back, started a Taco stand along with a siesta-like attitude and it grew from there. Only a handful of chefs have been trained in the art of taco making, and it's an honour to have a Taco stall on your ship. Gotta love it. I mean, Tacos; a high-class meal? Who’d have thought." The man laughs heartily at the ridiculousness, hoping to get Janvier to break from her current state.
 

It works, a snicker building quickly to a polite cough. "Tacos." Donovan nods. "In space."
 

His response is spoken like the title of a B-grade film from the fifties. "Tacos. In. Space." He throws caution to the wind and wraps an arm around the still stunned woman's shoulders, squeezing her in a friendly way while stretching his other arm out before them dramatically to add to the silliness of the situation.
 

Ensoleillé looks at Donovan wryly, but does not shrug him off. He lowers his gesturing arm but retains his grip on her shoulder. "Aside from those tidbits, everything else I've chatted about is probably stuff you got in your portfolios or whatever Vvvuuuula... might have given you..." The black Guvaan's name is barely remembered by the man as he hesitantly continues. "Not sure how much you've been told, the tour she gave me was pretty brief to say the least."
 

"Every part of this ship was shown to us," Janvier recollects as she begins walking once more, starting gently enough to allow Donovans arm to stay where it is as he falls in step "but not for much time. Just enough to see then -whoosh!- off to the next room."
 

"Saw more than me I'd wager." Donovan jests.
 

"Oui, but you have... 'conversed' more with these people than any of the council." She sighs, seemingly more annoyed than tired "Suresh spends each hour in Engineering while Marian, Richard and the Major keep to their rooms and read."
 

"Read. They're in space, on an Alien spaceship the size of a town and they're reading." Donovan is astounded at his fellow humans reactions.
 

"I've been doing similar," she admits somewhat hesitantly, "we have little time between tribunal meetings, so I go to the Arboretum."
 

"Fair enough, that's a much nicer place to read. But still." He rolls his eyes behind closed lids. "There are so many people here, so much to do. I take it you broke from your reading for a bit to get that done?" He gestures towards the fantastical glass-like braiding within the Doctor's hair.
 

"Cest Magnifique, no?" She slips from his shoulder hug to twirl, beaming with the kind of happiness one would associate more with an elated child than a woman. "I am an Anthropologist," Dr. Janvier says smiling, though her expression changes back to that of exhaustion. "I'm here to study these species histories, scientists back home want to know how they've evolved and where they came from. All their records are in this database, I just have to read them."
 

"I take it today's activities are a break from the norm for sanity's sake?" Donovan quips.
 

"Of a sort. I've read about these people, about their past, but not interacted with them. I do not have the time." Her smile fades as the reality of the situation returns. "I just wanted to speak with them, see what they are like in person."
 

"I think the lab coats back home would understand if you took a more hands on approach to the situation. I mean, we have plenty of info on Ancient Rome but nobody knows how to speak Latin. Are you much of a linguist?" It kills Donnovan not to make the 'cunning linguist' joke, but he felt at this stage it would probably just fly right over the French woman's head.
 

"Marian- Dr. Katsaros is a Linguist. She is less reading and more listening and learning to write.” Dr. Janvier blinks, looking away for a second as her thoughts click into place. “You- you haven't been told of the council's uh, professions, have you?" Donovan shakes his head in response. She walks him through the last bit of hallway and over to a bench at the edge of the market, seating him next to her as she takes a deep breath.

"So the Tribunal requested myself and Dr. Bhatnagar attend because from their research I am the closest to a xeno-anthropologist humanity has,” She stumbles a little over the unofficial term but continues “and Suresh has managed to develop technology they wish to research.”

“Yeah, it was… uh, about an Aether battery, or generator or something? Right?” 

“Oui. The Da’jen need Aether to survive in this dimension.” Somehow saying it aloud shocks the woman a little, as though she never really thought about how huge of a statement that was; the knowledge and evidence of not only another dimension but a being from it as well. She shakes the thought from her mind and continues. “Suresh has been working on a prototype, apparently it gathers Aetheric energy in an entirely different way than the uplifted ones. It’s only half as powerful as the one on this ship, but his new design is so much more than that.” She flashes Donovan a smile, proud of her fellow human’s work.

“Oh, yes.” She remembers what they were talking about. “Dr. Lee is an Astro-no-met-rical Mathematician,” She sounds out each syllable, trying to get it right out of respect “He was brought in to advise the rest of council about the scale and severity of the situation.” Dr. Janvier’s eyes go wide as it’s clear Donovan picked up on those descriptors. “I can’t say what,” She beat him to the punch “but we’re talking really big news.”

“So Dr. Lee is there to ‘layman’ the sciencey stuff?” Dr Janvier nods, realising that would have been a much better way to put it. “SO let me get this right; Dr. Bah-, Bat, uh…”

“Bhatnagar. Dr. Suresh Bhatnagar.”

“Suresh is here because he created what’s considered advanced tech for the...  Uplifted?” She nods again. “You’re here to help translate customs and cultures back and forth?” more nodding “Dr. Katsaros is here to translate; I’m assuming in case the translation software doesn’t work properly or something?”

“They made it clear a translator would not be needed but the UN decided Marian would be good to have to make sure that what we say is what we mean.” Dr. Janvier sighs, shrugging. “One man’s greeting is another man’s insult.”

“Fair enough.” Donovan looks out into the market, the flurry of activity dying down as the hours grow late. “So you four make a lot of sense. What’s the Major got to do with it?”

The doctor cracked her knuckles, obviously tense. “Major Jeffries.” She practically spat the name. “The Tribunal requested five human experts. Dr Bhatnagar and myself were named, but they left three vacant positions to be filled by a military advisor, mathematician and one other of our choice.” She sighs. “Due to having the largest military, America demanded one of theirs to be sent. Initially they wanted all three to be American, but were bargained down to one.”

“And he was the one?” Donovan looks back to the doctor quizzically. “Dude looks like he’s been demoted to a Private. Couldn’t they find anyone more interested?”

The doctor mumbles something derogatory about ‘privates’ before clearing her throat. “Apparently they threatened him with a desk job if he didn’t.” She smiled shallowly “But at least him being uncomfortable here is some sense of reward for having to put up with him.”

“Schadenfreude. In. Spaaaace!” Donovan did the bit with his arm outstretched again, as though gesturing to the landscape before them. It gets a laugh from the doctor, which is what he was aiming for. But her laughter is broken by a curious expression.

“Sorry Messieu Lane, the Tribunal have called the afternoon’s meeting a little early. I must go.” Dr. Janvier stands, dusting herself off to uncrease her lab coat as Donovan rises with her out of politeness. She turns to face him, giving him a hug. “It’s good to have an adventurous spirit like you on board. Get the others here to see a normal human and not just us official types.”

Donovan smiles, bowing slightly. “And it’s good you official types aren’t all boring, for the same reason.” He placed a hand on hers as she turned to go. “Seriously. I think the council needs your good attitude; if not to counteract the Major, then at the very least to show we humans actually have things like compassion, humour and wit.”

“Thank you.” The doctor says, squeezing his hand back in return. “Let us catch up later.”

“For tea.” Donovan replies as she takes off for the Tribunal chamber

“Pour le thé!” Ensoleillé shouts back at him, pumping a fist in the air victoriously.

The man stands in the slowly dissipating market, alone again. He sighs, smiling. “What is there to do here in the afternoon?” He asks the nanobots, then groans as a massive list of activities begin to scroll past his vision. “Well that’ll keep me occupied.” He mutters sarcastically, trying to return the list to the top.