Five Liters
"You are stalking my engineers."
"Mm? What?" Wilco looked up. "No, I'm not."
"You are," the male snow rabbit stated, making a bit of a face. He padded forward, tilting his head. "You have been in here for the past eight minutes."
"I'm just looking around. You know ... "
"You are the helm officer, correct?"
"Yeah ... "
"Who is piloting the ship?" It was just after the noon ... of the Arctic's first solo day in space.
"I'm on my lunch break, I'll have you know," the flying squirrel replied, doing a bit of a head-bob. Behind them, the pale-blue and lavender-colored warp core swirled and hummed. And various furs went about their duties. There were two levels to engineering, and lots of colorful consoles on the walls. As well as plasma conduits going to warp nacelles.
"Our lunch breaks are an hour long. If you wish to get a proper meal, I suggest you head the mess hall before ... "
"Is she in here?" Wilco whispered, looking around.
A blink. "Who?"
"Her. Her ... that kangaroo rat. I saw her come in here."
A squint. "I do not have a kangaroo rat on my staff."
"Really?"
"Really," said the snow rabbit. He was the chief engineer. His name was Alabaster.
"Oh." The flying squirrel's whiskers twitched, and his nose sniffed (in consternation). "Hmm. Well ... I thought I saw her come in here," he said quietly.
"What are you even doing on E-Deck?"
"Well, I saw her go into a lift on B-Deck, and I ... the computer said she came down here, and I KNOW I saw her come into engineering."
"Then you WERE stalking ... "
"I'm not a stalker!" the flying squirrel claimed, shaking his head, and starting to move for the door. "I'm totally not."
"If you wish to know the location," Alabaster stated, "of the 'kangaroo rat,' simply ask the computer."
Wilco bit his lip, a bit sheepish. His angular ears swivelled. "Hadn't thought of that," he admitted.
"No. No doubt your 'male instinct' got in the way." A raised brow.
"Hey, you're one to talk, Mr. Buns. I know about snow rabbit mating habits. Huh? Yeah. Yeah, so don't ... talk to me about 'male instinct' ... "
"What are you implying?"
Wilco, flushed, frowned. "Don't knock me for needing to breed and mate ... you're breed-a-holics."
"So, you wish to breed her? This 'kangaroo rat'?"
"I think I wish to ... " He trailed. And took a breath. "I think that's none of your business," he said smartly, "Mr ... "
" ... Alabaster."
" ... Alabaster," Wilco finished.
"And you are?"
"Wilco. I'm an ensign ... " He squinted at the snow rabbit's pips (his ranking insignia). " ... um ... lieutenant-commander?"
"Yes." A step forward, and a tilt of the head. Waggle ears waggling. "And for future reference, ensign, rabbits are not 'bunnies,' and I do not enjoy being called 'Mr. Buns' ... understood?"
The squirrel bit his lip, looking to the floor. "Uh ... yes, sir," he mumbled, and took a breath, and looked back up. "Sorry?"
A raised brow. A bit of an eye smile. "Apology accepted. And I do hope you find your femme."
A bashful, little smile. "Thanks."
"But ... "
"Mm?" Wilco raised his eyes, ears swiveling.
"I order you to eat lunch first. The pursuit of love is tiring. If you do it on an empty stomach, she'll outpace you." A continued eye-smile. "You'll need the energy."
A brighter smile from the squirrel. "Alright. Thank you ... sir," he added, nodding, and giggle-squeaking a bit, and bounding out of engineering. For the mess hall.
Alabaster just shook his head with neutral, controlled amusements. "Rodents," he said, and walked back to some consoles. To soothe his engines.
Beep-a-beep.
Beep.
"Slow us to impulse," Aria said, getting out of her chair. She eyed the viewer carefully. As the stars stopped their steaming and became twinkling, stationary (somewhat) dots again. "An escape pod?"
"No. Bigger than that," said the skunk at tactical. His name was Jinx.
Aria turned her head. "Then what is it?"
"A shuttle. A small transport ... something. Looks like an engine failure."
Aria looked back to the viewer. The small ship was leaking something. Was adrift. "The result of an attack?"
A shake of the head from the skunk, who replied, "No. Looks to be a natural systems malfunction."
"I see," the snow rabbit whispered, ears waggling above her. "Survivors?"
"There was only one fur on it to begin with, and he's still alive."
"Species?"
The skunk hesitated, biting his lip.
Aria turned again, repeating, "Species?"
A sigh. "Arctic fox."
Arianna, at helm, turned at that. As did the substituting helm officer (also a snow rabbit). Aria got a bit stiffer.
"Uh ... he's in critical," the skunk said, "condition. Uh ... should we bring him aboard?"
Aria's eyes burned a bit. Until she finally blinked them, looking around. To the floor. To the viewer. And to Arianna. Who had an equally steely gaze.
"Aria ... "
Still, no response.
"Captain? Didn't we sign, like, a peace treaty with them ... I mean, the snow rabbits did, and we did, and ... you know? We'd be going back on ... "
" ... bring him aboard," Aria whispered. She swallowed. "But," she added, at a whisper, "assign a security detail to him."
"But he's injured. He's no ... "
" ... threat enough, even maimed. Assign the detail. Inform the doctor." She turned and met Jinx's eyes. "Understood?"
"Aye ... yes," he whispered.
Aria turned her attention back to the viewer. Letting out a breath.
"No luck?"
Wilco looked up. And saw Ross.
"I'll take that as a no," the vole said.
The flying squirrel sighed. "Well, I checked the computer. She's in her quarters. I guess she's on the night shift. So, she sleeps during the day." Pause. "I must've imagined her going into engineering ... "
"Your mind's just over-active.."
"Probably," Wilco said, poking at his salad with a fork. And he looked up. And out the window. "We're out of warp," he observed, with low-key tone.
"Yeah, I noticed. When do you have to be back on duty?"
"Thirty minutes."
"Time enough to eat a good meal." The meadow mouse gave his friend a nudge.
Wilco managed a weak smile. "Yeah ... "
"Look, just leave her a message, you know? On her personal computer. Send it to her quarters, or just tape something to her door, the old fashioned way ... there are only forty-odd furs on this ship. It's not like she's unreachable."
"Well, if the computer hadn't confirmed she was onboard, I would think I was insane." Fork-tines pushed into salad. And he brought some to his muzzle, and opened, and ... chew-chew. Crunchy and moist. "Mm." A swallow. "But, yeah, you're probably right ... or maybe I should jump camp outside her quarters when I get off duty this afternoon."
A small giggle-squeak from Ross. "That would work, too, I guess."
The flying squirrel smiled back, taking another bite of salad, and reaching for his water glass. Taking a gulp, and then swallowing, and then saying, "What if she says no? When I finally get to talk to her, I mean?"
"You mean ... about being mates?"
"Yeah. What if she says no? What if she's already mated?"
"Well, she's probably not ... I think most of the 'warm-blood' furs that accepted this assignment were single. Else they wouldn't be this far away from home."
"How do you reason?"
"Well, when you're mated and have a family, you don't join a snow rabbit ship in the edges of known space. You stay somewhere ... safer."
"Ah." A nod. "Yeah. Mm ... " A breath. "Alright, so she's probably free, but what if she says no?" he asked again.
"We all gotta breed twice a day ... "
"Well, we can 'breed' with our paws, Ross. Or we can paw each other off." Which he and Ross had done before ... it was common practice for furs to simply paw together, as friends (when time was an issue, or mates were unavailable; or just as a social activity).
"I'm sure she'd find you more attractive than her or anyone else's paws," the meadow mouse said gently, smiling.
A flush.
"Just don't get involved with her ... because you need to breed. Don't yiff with her until you know it's love."
"How will I know it's love?"
"When you melt inside," was his response. "Just give it a few days, okay? You're looking for a MATE, not a 'breeding partner' ... and, on a ship this small, if you end up with a broken heart, it's gonna be hard to get over it."
A little nod. And, nearly finished with his salad, the squirrel reached a paw across the table. And took one of the mouse's paws. And squeezed it. "Thanks," he whispered. "For lookin' out for me."
"No problem." Ross squeezed back.
"We've got a problem ... he needs a blood transfusion," said the doctor, a bat. Like all male bats, his fur was a baby-blue. Periwinkle in color. Same with his eyes.
"Then give him one." Aria stood, with guarded posture, in the door of his office. Which was open-aired. Aside from a clear, window that 'roomed off' part of it. The snow rabbit's eyes were on the unconscious predator, who was on a bio bed. A light-blue sheet going halfway up his bare, white chest, covering his lower half.
"That's the thing: he's not compatible with the 'warm-blood' furs," was the bat's response. His name was Barrow. "He's an ice-fur, and being such, he needs BLOOD from an ice-fur." A pause. The bat hugged his winged arms around himself, looking a bit submissive. "I've, uh, asked EVERY snow rabbit on the ship."
Aria's ice-blue eyes met his sky-blue ones.
"They all said no." And a sigh. "You're the only I haven't asked yet ... "
Aria gave no immediate response. In fact, her physical posture indicated hesitation. Reluctance. Gave away her response.
"Captain ... he needs this NOW. I'm talking within the HOUR." Barrow's voice was at a whisper. As if to heighten the urgency. His eyes implored with her. His tongue licking at his fangs. He swallowed. "Captain?"
"He will die, otherwise?" She took a step or two out of the doorway. A tiny bit closer to the fox. And stopped.
"Yes," was the whisper. The doctor coming up behind her. "He'll die."
Aria was deathly quiet. And turned around like an ice-floe. "I was raped by the Arctic foxes. More than once ... " She hesitated. "They ... took me. Knotted to me. Against my will. I was stuck to them ... stuck, in pained, disgusted pleasure, while they derived bliss from me, and breathed their hot breaths on my face. And, when I had to, I killed them." She remembered the blood on her paws. Red blood on white fur ... left vivid marks.
He stared at her.
"It was war. I was a soldier. I was defending my home and my species ... I did," she whispered, "what I had to do." All the subterfuges, all the lies. All the risks. All the pain. "But them? They," she said, almost hissing it, "went BEYOND moral reproach. They were feral in the worst way. They took so much FROM me ... from all of us. I will not have my blood inside that thing." She quivered. Her inability to express emotion keeping her from looking raged, but the way she was twitching, and the way her nose and whiskers were moving (at the rate of a mouse, almost), it was obvious her control was being strained.
The periwinkle bat tried to appeal to her. "Your mate is a devout Christian. I know you're one, too. How can you NOT do this ... Aria ... Christ granted YOU forgiveness, and you're REFUSING to grant this fox the same thing? That's ... contrary to how you're supposed to live. You know that's not right. You know you have to do this."
"I know I am imperfect. I know I am a sinner. I will repent for this," was all she said.
"I don't think sin works that way. You can't premeditate it ... with the plan of atoning for it later. That's twisting the system for your own destruction. You have to TURN from it. You have to be sorry," the doctor whispered, "to be granted repentance. You have to BELIEVE. Good intentions are hollow. Good actions? The same. Just as hollow, if they're not backed with pure belief ... it's what you believe, what you do," he told her, "with your heart." A pause. "Are you going to be sorry when he dies?"
The snow rabbit said nothing. And turned and walked away.
"Captain!" The doctor barked, huffing with frustration.
She turned around, with coolness. Her tail flicker-flicked, but not with cuteness, and not with curiosity. But with confrontation. "Do not raise your voice at me."
"I'm a doctor! I have an oath! I ... you're asking me to LET him die when I'm perfectly ABLE to save him. I just need the blood!"
"I cannot give it!" Her voice, normally so calm, was clearly strained to agitation. Blood pressure rising. She was breathing heavier.
"So, you're doing what all the other snow rabbits are doing? How's that setting an example for your crew?"
"Barrow, your species has been persecuted, has it not? For your telepathy. Others fear you. They fear what you can do."
A bit of a face. "What does that have to do with ... "
" ... say a predator murdered your family. Say they put you on edge. Say, for decades, you woke up every day wondering, 'are they coming for me today?' ... would you give your blood?"
"Yes," was his immediate response.
"I think you are only saying that," she told him, getting in his face, "because you are not the one having to make the decision here. It's easy to do the 'right thing' when approaching it with academic objectivity ... but subjective experience is far more messy. You, of all furs, should know that." She took a step back, and took a breath, as well ... she couldn't feel the emotions. Just the burning edges of them. And even THOSE were enough to leave her flustered. She quieted down and regained her composure.
"I do," he insisted quietly, "understand ... I sympathize," he stressed. "But, still, Aria ... "
"Get it from the mouse," Aria said, with a tinge of quiet, resigned briskness in her voice. Ending the debate.
"Mouse?"
"Ollie. The white-furred ... passenger. He is from an ice-world. He'll have a compatible blood type. Which saves you, him," she said, pointing at the fox, "and me ... "
"Alright," the doctor whispered. He crossed his winged arms. Uncrossed them. Eyes settling on her (a bit timidly). "And maybe it saves you from having to make that choice, Aria, and commit that sin, but ... you've already committed it in your heart. Haven't you? And that's the real issue here. You have to forgive them ... you can't hate them like this. It's bad for you, and ... "
"That will take time," she whispered.
An understanding nod. "I know." And he did. "But TRY. Just make sure you do it before time runs out."
A nod. "I understand." She hesitated. Slowly padding to the door. And whispered, "He would not want my blood, anyway."
The bat, almost back in his office, looked to her. "What?"
She met his eyes. "The Arctic fox. He would not take my blood ... "
"He doesn't exactly have a choice."
A tilt of her head, and a waggle of her ears. "I will have Ollie report to you immediately."
"Thank you," Barrow whispered, giving a polite nod to her (as was the snow rabbit way).
She nodded back at him before slipping away.
"I don't feel any better than I did last night ... "
"Well, I drew out as much blood as I could. You'll feel light-headed. Dizzy."
"Will?" Ollie asked, lying flat on his back on a bio-bed, eyes half-open. "I already do ... "
Barrow smiled slightly. Mice. "Well, just stay there ... I'll keep you here overnight, just to make sure you recover sufficiently."
"Any reason to think I won't?"
"No," said the bat, holding a hypo with a vial of blood sticking out the bottom. "No reason. I just find that mice have a more delicate range of responses ... body-wise."
"We're all finesse," Ollie remarked, smiling.
A bit of a chitter. "Don't know about that, but ... "
"The subtle, refined motions ... of a mouse," Ollie waxed, in his 'not-drunk,' buzzing state, " ... of a mouse ... in motion. That," declared the white-furred snow-mouse, "is poetry."
Barrow, grinning, just shook his head. "You know, mice should get drunk more often."
"But I'm not drunk!"
"The equivalent," Barrow corrected.
"And why, though ... anyway ... why should ... "
"Loose mice are the best form of entertainment," was the bat's response. "Uninhibited mice? Best look out."
Ollie giggle-squeaked ... more than he should've. And some more. And more, and ... slowly trailing. Until he was quiet. Until he whispered, "Whoa ... those lights are bright."
Barrow craned his neck upward. "They look comfortable to me."
"They're bright." Ollie shut his eyes.
The periwinkle bat, his angular ears swept back, and his rudder-like tail hanging behind him ... went to the bio-bed of the Arctic fox. And looked down at him. Even unconscious, the thing looked sly. Conniving. All the muscle beneath the thick, white fur, and the black nose, the sharp, triangular teeth. The bat pressed the hypo against the fox's exposed neck. And injected the first vial of blood. Until it was all inside the fox.
"What are you doing ... "
Barrow glanced over at Ollie, who was still lying down, his eyes closed. His chest rising and falling slowly. "Giving the fox your blood."
"You know ... you know, when I think of blood, I think of ... "
" ... what?"
" ... grape juice. You know, when you're young, or ... and you either don't have wine, or you're not supposed to drink it, so they give you grape juice for communion?"
Barrow smiled, loading another vial into the hypo. He nodded wordlessly. "Mm-hmm."
Ollie's whiskers twitched. "Sometimes, we didn't even ... even have grape juice," he whispered. "We had to pretend."
Barrow went back to the fox. And transferred more blood. He'd needed more ... not only from the effects of radiation, but he'd had a nasty gash on his thigh. Lost a lot from there. And the bat had one more vial to inject, and he glanced over at the mouse again (just to make sure he was okay).
"You're ... telepathic," the mouse whispered drowsily.
"Mm-hmm." He loaded the final vial. And went back to the fox.
"Are you ... reading my mind? My ... my memories ... "
"No," was the honest answer.
"Really?"
"I'm reading your feelings. I read the feelings, the emotional states, the conditions," the bat explained, "of others, but I don't read actual, singled-out thoughts, or memories, no."
"But can you?" was the whisper. "Can you mess with minds? Influence them? All that?"
A slight hesitation. "Yes."
"Oh ... "
"But I don't do that. Ever. It's a voluntary skill. It doesn't happen by accident. I have to consciously ... make that kind of mental connection, and ... even then, it's only halfway."
"Halfway?"
"There is a way of linking one hundred percent ... with a fur. Getting every thought, every memory, everything ... feeling, sensation. A union. Basically, you merge."
The mouse waited ...
"It's ... like, we bite. With our fangs. It's ... only done during yiff. Actually, it's involuntary. We have to bite when we ... " He trailed. "Or, else, we ... well ... "
"Oh." The mouse flushed a tiny bit. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to pry, or ... "
"It's okay ... " The bat flushed a bit with heat. "But, I mean, yes, there are varying degrees of mental connection. Right now, I'm sensing you on the weakest level, which is ... indirect. So ... it's complicated. Kind of."
"Arianna mentioned," Ollie continued, "that you were, like, a therapist, too ... or that you weren't, but you made a good one." A pause. "I understand why she said that now."
"I have good tools for it, yes." A pause. "Do you need therapy?"
No answer.
A sigh. "Ollie ... "
"I can't ... think. I'm too tired. Too dizzy."
"Well," the bat whispered gently. "Get some rest. We'll talk when you wake up. Really, I think we should ... "
"Alright," the mouse whispered weakly, swallowing, eyes closed, and drifting off ...
After an hour or two, when evening came, Ollie was asleep. A few bio-beds away from the Arctic fox, whom Aria now hovered over. On one side of his inert form, and Barrow on the other.
"Ready?" the bat asked, looking into Aria's eyes. From up-close.
A slight nod.
And the periwinkle bat gave the Arctic fox a wake-up hypo, which caused the predator to huff out through the nose. To move his head a bit. To stir.
"You're onboard the ... "
The fox let out a light groan. Trying to move, but he couldn't move all that well, really.
"I would advise," Aria told him, "stillness."
The fox huffed, eyes wide, and then narrowing. "Where," he rasped.
"You are aboard the snow rabbit ship Arctic."
"You captured ... "
" ... no one. Your ship had a malfunction. You were hurt. We have ... repaired you."
"Repaired?" The fox tried to dig into the bio-bed cushion with his claws, but was too weak to puncture anything.
Aria looked to Barrow.
As did the fox, squinting. A bat. Bats were mind-readers. This whole room, it smelled of ...
" ... blood," the bat said, explaining something about a thigh injury, a gash, radiation, and ... " ... so, we gave you a transfusion."
"You put blood IN me?"
"Yes," Barrow whispered evenly, not backing down from the fox's tone or glare. And, anyway, the fox was in no condition to do anyone any damage.
"But ... no foxes, who ... no ... no rabbits. No snow rabbits." A weak breath. "I would not have snow rabbit blood streaming through my heart ... "
"I would not give you my blood," Aria said coldly, precisely, "anymore than you would take it, fox."
He showed his teeth. And then coughed a bit, huffing, swallowing.
"You have mouse blood streaming through your heart," Aria whispered. "If that makes any difference to you."
"Mouse ... blood?"
"I guess you could say you have prey in you ... "
"Aria," whispered Barrow, frowning a bit, seeing the snow rabbit was starting to bait the fox ...
The Captain looked up.
The doctor raised his brow. And sent her a mental 'stop it' impulse ...
She squinted at him, but didn't reprimand him. Instead, looked back down, and said, "We will put you on your ship. Your species will have to come and fetch you."
"Good," the fox spat.
"Put him back under," Aria ordered, as she turned to go. "And, when ready, have him brought back to his shuttle ... "
Barrow just nodded quietly.
And Aria left, with a swish of the sickbay doors, and Barrow reached for a hypo ...
"Take the blood out of me," the Arctic fox whispered.
"What?" Barrow paused.
"Take it out!"
"I can't do that. That's impossible ... it's already integrated into your ... what are you doing ... "
The fox was trying to dig his claws into his fur, to his skin, to cut himself ...
" ... stop it!"
He didn't stop.
Barrow, seeing no alternative, used his mind to subdue the fox's frenzy ... which elicited a growl from the predator.
"What are you doing to me ... get out of my head ... "
"I'm teaching you a lesson."
"Get out!" the fox wailed, but the bat didn't. Despite the darkness and the pervasiveness of it, he kept going, worming, weaving through the predator's mind, tugging on things, planting subconscious commands ...
The fox whimpered, totally helpless. And even a bit scared ...
... until Barrow, blinking, panting, and his breath shaking, stopped. He stopped, and he fumbled with the hypo, and knocked the fox out. And stood there, swallowing, and ... backed away, and leaned against a nearby bed. His fur was matted with sweat. Calm down, calm down, calm ...
" ... I guess," said the weak voice of Ollie, who, during the process, had woken up, "we all cross lines now and then ... "
The bat's cheeks burned. "All he has is hate. I saved his life. You ... we ... we all did. We brought him aboard, you gave your blood, I treated him ... he was going to use his own claws to cut himself open! To bleed to death," the bat said, "rather than have prey blood in his veins!" The bat sounded desperate. "I had to ... I had to manipulate him. I had to make him stop."
"I know," the mouse whispered, sounding frail. "But ... Barrow ... you still did it." A swallow. A weak whisker-twitch.
The bat, unblinking, looked away. And back to the fox. And, taking a breath, Barrow whispered, "I erased his memory." He trailed, still not blinking. "He won't remember having come aboard. He'll ... wake up, thinking he was knocked out in an accident, never knowing he was hurt. Never knowing about ... " A trail. A swallow. "I had to do it."
"I know," Ollie repeated.
Barrow just nodded at that. He had wings. But he was no angel. And, earlier, when he'd told Ollie he never used his abilities to tamper with or influence or ... change minds ... but he did that, what he just did, for the RIGHT reasons ... but the mouse was right: he'd still done it. And things could become habits. Once you found out you could do something, you'd do it again, to deeper degrees, and ... that was how talents and skills became weapons.
The doors swished open, and ...
" ... squeak! Oh! My word ... "
"These are for you."
The kangaroo rat let out a sharp breath. And put a paw over her heart. Looking quickly to the flowers, and then the presenter of them: a flying squirrel.
"Uh ... they're ice-flowers. They're from the snow rabbit world. I got them from the hydroponics bay, but don't tell anyone, cause ... well, I don't know who's in charge down there, so I didn't know who to ask to take any, so I sorta just, uh, took 'em ... " A pause. "Here." He guided the bouquet closer to the femme.
"Um ... who are you?" she asked, warily taking the flowers. "I nearly jumped out of my fur."
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ... uh ... "
"It's, uh ... it's okay," the kangaroo rat assured, her pulse slowing. She held to the flowers with both paws. And looked down at them, more closely. At how they resembled a wispy sky.
"I'm Wilco."
She looked up. "Alright," she whispered. And nodded a bit. "Wilco ... "
" ... yes?" he asked hopefully, standing up straight. His chest puffing out a bit.
"Why are you at my door, springing flowers on me ... um ... yeah, you didn't even knock."
The flying squirrel bit his lip. "Uh ... I was GOING to. I was just, uh, too ... afraid."
"Of me?"
"More like being rejected by you," he corrected. And then went quiet. And then said, "You came out the door, like, JUST before I was gonna ring your chime. Honest. I ... I wasn't stalking you," he said emphatically.
Which caused her to smile a bit. And her eyes looked around. "I guess I'll take your word on that." She looked at his eyes, which were a golden-brown. "So, I take it that, uh, the flowers, and ... your interest in me ... "
" ... well, I saw you, and I ... I thought you were pretty," he stammered, "and I just had to know who you were. I mean, I was afraid to know who you were, but I had to, cause I was thinking about it a lot, and it was, you know ... had to do something."
"Had to meet me?"
"Yes. Yes, I ... I wanted to meet you."
"Because ... "
" ... you're pretty," he said, nodding, wide-eyed.
A smile spread across her muzzle. A wide smile. "Um, uh ... heh ... " She felt flushed beneath her fur. "I'm still processing this," she told him. "If you'll give me a moment."
"Okay," he whispered, still standing in front of her. Both of them in her open doorway. His eyes darted over her ... trying to be discreet. But he just couldn't help it! She was pretty, and ... she was pretty. He looked ...
... at her fur, which was a yellow buff color above and white below. The tail had a white-tipped tuft at the end. Her eyes were big and brown (we have the same color eyes, Wilco realized!), like they were soulful or something. She had big, strong foot-paws, which were bare (shoes were not required to be worn on the ship ... most furs would wear them when going to various planets, in anticipation of unknown terrain ... and some furs had delicate enough foot-paws that, rather than stubbing toes and scraping up paw-pads, they wore shoes when not at leisure).
"You're staring at my foot-paws."
"Am I?" A flush.
"Yes." A bit of a smile. Hugging the flowers to her breast.
"They're big ... "
A giggle-squeak. "Most femmes wouldn't take that as a compliment, but ... "
" ... oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry ... "
" ... it's okay. They're big," she said, "to let me hop. To let me move about in the sand. To kick. Stuff like that." Her tail strung behind her like a balancing rope ... only with a big fluff-ball on the end.
"You're from the desert," Wilco said quietly.
"Yeah. I can go for weeks without water, if I need to. I'm kind of a freak like that."
"You're not a freak." A pause. And the flying squirrel spread his arms. "I have winged membranes. I can fly."
A giggle-squeak. "Wow ... flying, huh? Never met a rodent who could fly."
"I can. For real. Like, we can go to the simulation room, and I can show you ... "
" ... uh ... heh ... dunno. Dunno." A pause. She looked him over. "Do you always fly for femmes on a first date?"
"Are we dating?" he asked with youthful eagerness, eyes widening.
A giggle-squeak. "Oh, gosh," she whispered, biting her lip, and letting out a breath. "You are cute," she said quietly. "If not ... over-eager." A pause. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two." A pause. "Why? How old are you ... "
"Twenty-one."
He smiled.
She giggled again, and ... took another breath. "I was just, uh, gonna go to the mess hall, you know, for supper? I'm kinda hungry. Kinda REALLY hungry." An exhale. "And then I gotta be on duty in, like, an hour and a half. I'm on the night shift. But, uh, the mess hall ... "
"I can go with you!" Wilco suggested brightly.
A little nod from her. A coy look. A consideration. "Well, you've convinced me." Another nod. A smile. "Alright. But, uh, a little advice?"
"Yeah?"
"You might wanna cut down on the hyper. It's a bit, uh ... heh ... intimidating. Especially when you're trying to woo a mouse. We're jittery, us mouses. We got energy, but it's not ... SQUIRREL energy. So, uh ... don't go all nutty on me. Just, uh, calm down? I don't bite ... well, not really."
"Oh." A nod. "Right. Okay ... um ... "
" ... and I AM a mouse. I may be a kangaroo rat, but that's ... a type of mouse. So, don't call me a rat," she said.
"I won't," he promised.
"Let me put these flowers in water ... " She walk-hopped away (walk-hopping ... he'd never seen anyone move like that!) ... and when she returned, she smiled, and gave a bit of a look-around. "Shall we go?" she asked, settling on his eyes.
"Yes!" And they started to move, and ... " ... oh, but wait, wait."
"Mm?" She paused.
"I never, uh ... what's your name?" he asked quietly.
"Arabella," was her soft reply.
The flying squirrel beamed. That was a pretty name. And he may have bungled the whole introduction thing, and maybe she thought he was a high-wired weirdo, but ... they were on their way to supper! And that was a promising start.