Gigi Sinclair

[Lt.M.Reed]: Trip! Where are you?

[Lt.M.Reed]: Don't bother ignoring me. I can see you're online. What I want to know is, why aren't you here with me?

[DayTripper]: We were working on the engines. But I'm not

[Lt.M.Reed]: Going to be long? Not good enough. I've been waiting half an hour. In front of your favourite dinner. That I had prepared especially for you.

[DayTripper]: Malcolm

[Lt.M.Reed]: Don't even try it, lover. I guess I'm going to have to eat this enormous hamburger all by myself. Which really is a pity. I know how much you like to watch me. Eat, that is.

[DayTripper]: Malcolm, stop

[Lt.M.Reed]: Oh, I see, dear. So it's all right when you send me explicit emails, but I'm supposed to be the quiet, responsible one. Forget it. I'm damn horny. And hungry. I guess I'll just get started without you. God, this meat is so tender. I can feel the juices oozing onto my tongue, dripping down my chin. Good job I managed to lick them up before they soaked the table. Too bad you aren't here to help me.

[Lt.M.Reed]: Nothing to say to that, Trip? That's fine. I'm helping myself to a nice, long, firm chip now. The Chef even sent over a little container of HP sauce. I don't know why you Americans insist on drowning everything in ketchup. You remember how I like my chips, don't you, love? I dip them in sauce, make sure they're nice and wet, then I put them to my lips and suck slowly, pulling in and out, in and out, savouring every last drop

Malcolm looked up from the PADD when he heard the mess hall door open behind him. "There you are, Trip."

"Here I am," Trip agreed, giving Malcolm a chaste, discreet peck on the cheek and sitting down across from him. "Sorry I'm late. Hey, you waited for me. Thanks, darlin'." Ignoring his own food, Trip reached across and took a French fry from Malcolm's untouched plate. To Malcolm's dismay, Trip didn't seem the least bit flustered.

He'd also arrived empty-handed.

"Where's your PADD?"

"What?" Trip stopped slathering ketchup on his hamburger and replaced the bun.

"Your PADD. The one you were signed on to just a second ago."

"Oh," Trip took a bite of burger, and continued around his mouthful of food: "I gave it to Mayweather this morning. He was helpin' us out and he needed my ID to access the control panels. Thanks for remindin' me, darlin'. I have to get that back."

Malcolm felt ill, and it had nothing to do with the sight of half-chewed food in his lover's mouth. That, he was used to.

"Speaking of Travis," Trip took a large gulp of iced tea and stole another of Malcolm's fries. "I passed him on the way here. Did he hurt himself again? Cause he was walkin' kinda funny."

"I don't know." Malcolm looked down, suddenly not hungry. "Would you like this, Trip?"

"Why? You sick?" Trip was concerned enough to stop eating.

"I had something earlier."

"Well, if you're sure." Trip reached across and scraped Malcolm's meal onto his plate. "Gotta keep my strength up. I'm a growin' boy." He winked. "At least when I'm around you."

Malcolm smiled weakly, thinking of how he could possibly ensure he would never again eat French fries in Travis Mayweather's presence.