Onboard Moya...still somewhere

The next morning (or what passed for morning on a Leviathan) found Stark still in Chiana’s quarters. They had continued drinking, and talking, for most of the night until exhaustion and inebriation got the best of both of them.

They had talked about Rygel and how surprised they were when he had agreed, after encouragement, to Stark’s demand that he formally ensure the freedom of everyone living within his empire. They had talked about who that red-eyed man could have been. They had talked about Jothee. And eventually they circled back around and they had talked more about D’Argo and Zhaan and Faye. Some of the talk was quiet, some was more like yelling, and some veered dangerously close to crying.

Chiana drifted off to sleep first. Stark had continued talking, at first because he hadn’t noticed and then because he just felt like he needed to keep getting words out even if there was nobody around to hear them. He talked to himself often enough and this was essentially the same thing. Then he’d stood up, too fast, sat back down immediately, and decided he’d slept worse places than this floor and just laid down right there. He slept better that night than he had in a long time in spite of his position. Maybe it was the raslak. Maybe it was feeling like he’d unburdened himself just a little. Maybe it was feeling like listening to Chiana might have helped her a little. Or maybe it was just knowing someone else was there.

“You’re on my floor,” Chiana said, peering blearily down at him from the edge of the bed. “Stark. Why are you on my floor?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Stark said, scrambling to his feet and stumbling a little as he did so. “I didn’t mean to. Well. I did. But I…it was hard to walk.”

“It’s a big bed, you idiot, you didn’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Stark just stared back at her.

“What?” she asked, flopping back down against the pillows.

“I’ll go,” he said quickly. “Sorry.”

“Bring me water when you come back,” Chiana said plaintively.

“I wasn’t…I can do that,” he said. He kicked an empty bottle as he turned, sending it spinning across the floor. “Sorry.”

Chiana was sitting cross-legged on the bed when he came back with water. “C’mere, you don’t have sit on the floor,” she said, patting the blanket to her right. She held out her hand for the water and drained half of the cup before saying any more. “Sit down."

Stark, not sure what else to do, sat as directed. “Does your head hurt?” His didn’t, at least not much yet, but he wasn’t sure how much of the raslak Chiana had actually consumed.

“Little bit. I’ve had worse,” Chiana said. “You really slept there all night?”

“I was tired,” Stark said with a small shrug. “And drunk. But…I slept better than I have. In a long time.”

“Good. You needed it. But I’m not buying you that many drinks every night,” Chiana warned.

“I’ll buy you some next time.” Stark offered hesitantly. “Unless the water counts?”

“Good try,” Chiana said before finishing her glass. “No.”

They sat there quietly for a few moments before Stark opened his mouth again. “You didn’t tell me your idea. Last night. You had an idea. You said. But you didn’t say what.”

( It's either a good idea or it's a horrible idea or maybe it's both. )

[NFB for distance. Could be open for contact after. Saddest alien might even be in a somewhat better mood.]