[ Perhaps, Naomi admits to herself as she sways gently in the elevator, she had one too many. She was keeping an eye on the boys -- Prax barely drank, and Alex seemed alright, but she'd kept pace with him and he's a significantly larger person. Not that she can't hold her own! But. Hmm. Gross as it is the alcohol here is potent, and although she's certain that the gravity is on she still feels a bit like she's floating.
Also dangerously on the verge of tears, despite successfully holding them off all evening. She won't be in the puppy pile room tonight, that's for sure. Maybe she'd cry in front of Alex, after all this... and Amos was never a question. But the others? No. No, she'll stay in her room and keep to herself until she has her emotions in check. The last thing she wants is anyone else talking about having hope, when she can't justify that yet.
She makes it down the corridor to her room and hesitates. Does she really want to go in and resign herself to being alone the rest of the night? Maybe not yet... maybe Amos is in? Just a little further, to his room, and she knocks perhaps a little harder than she normally would, coordination lacking.
Nothing. Hm. He must not be home, and he doesn't have a communicator. Naomi frowns a little to herself, alone in the corridor. Maybe that's for the best. He might have been angry with her, anyway, for upsetting Prax with news of this discovery. And she might have had to explain, and just might have gotten another hope speech. But now she's in the same spot: find someone else, or resign herself to her quarters?
Then it occurs to her there's one creature on this station that can't ask questions.
Down to room 19 she goes, giving the same uncharacteristically heavy handed knock. There's noise from inside, a shuffling and the clang of mag boots. Good. Naomi tilts her chin up and tries to look both composed and sober, succeeding at neither but hey. An effort was made. When Frank opens the door she cuts right to the chase. ]
action; after the meeting of sad parents club
Also dangerously on the verge of tears, despite successfully holding them off all evening. She won't be in the puppy pile room tonight, that's for sure. Maybe she'd cry in front of Alex, after all this... and Amos was never a question. But the others? No. No, she'll stay in her room and keep to herself until she has her emotions in check. The last thing she wants is anyone else talking about having hope, when she can't justify that yet.
She makes it down the corridor to her room and hesitates. Does she really want to go in and resign herself to being alone the rest of the night? Maybe not yet... maybe Amos is in? Just a little further, to his room, and she knocks perhaps a little harder than she normally would, coordination lacking.
Nothing. Hm. He must not be home, and he doesn't have a communicator. Naomi frowns a little to herself, alone in the corridor. Maybe that's for the best. He might have been angry with her, anyway, for upsetting Prax with news of this discovery. And she might have had to explain, and just might have gotten another hope speech. But now she's in the same spot: find someone else, or resign herself to her quarters?
Then it occurs to her there's one creature on this station that can't ask questions.
Down to room 19 she goes, giving the same uncharacteristically heavy handed knock. There's noise from inside, a shuffling and the clang of mag boots. Good. Naomi tilts her chin up and tries to look both composed and sober, succeeding at neither but hey. An effort was made. When Frank opens the door she cuts right to the chase. ]
Evening, friend. Might I borrow Max awhile?