The real party is in my pants but you are invited to the one in my fucking sickbay for starters

[sharpestscalpel]

Got a message from 'Fleet command today, looking for Pike and what the hell is he doing and blah blah Empire business blah.

Uhura handled it before Chekov could flub it. Those two are turning into a dangerous pair. I've had three castrations to, well, it ain't like you can re-attach that shit when it's been pulverized. Chekov does some dirty fucking work, man. Good kid.

Other than that, ain't nothing going down. I figured we'd be seeing hell and weird shit after that whole scene in the brig but Enterprise has been quiet lately and Kirk is hanging on just as tight as he can to keeping his breathing and his beating fucking heart inside his fucking body.

Time to bust out some music, I think. Make the nurses dance a bit. It ain't easy to shake your fucking ass to Tom Waits but that ain't exactly my fucking problem, now is it?

Comments

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

It is totes fucking lovely.

And, don't you goddamn worry, you are the only sweet Russian peach in my contact list at the moment. We got our own Russian but... He is not so damn sweet.

[nawigator]

Da, from vhat I hawe gathered about him he does not seem that friendly.

[sharpestscalpel.livejournal.com]

Fucking competent. You got a knack in any universe, I suspect.

[nawigator]

Naturally, incompetence is just an excuse to be wasteful of one's talents.