"Where're you heading?" Lorson asked, pausing his movie and looking around.

Dax froze, hand on the doorknob. "Oh, you know," he said airily, "just off to see somebody."

Lorson wrinkled his nose. "Don't tell me the details when you return," he said, turning back to his movie.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it," Dax muttered, slinking out the door.

It was times like this he was glad he had a reputation to explain away his regular disappearances to the Nursery. Not that he necessarily minded other agents knowing he liked entertaining the children, but dammit, guys like him weren't supposed to be... softies. Or fond of kids.

Avandra knew he never wanted any of his own, but that certainly hadn't worked out, had it?

Once he reached the Nursery, he was promptly swarmed by children.

"Dax! Dax!" Fiona grabbed his tunic, holding up a crayon drawing. "Look! I drew you!"

Dax crouched down to get a better look at the drawing and he grinned, touching the pointy triangles emerging from the stick figure's head. "Are those my ears?"

Fiona shook her head. "It's your hair!" she said.

"Oooh, I see it now," Dax said, even though he really didn't. "You're really talented, Fifi, have I told you that?"

Fiona beamed.

"Are you gonna teach us how to sword fight some more?" Ryan asked eagerly.

Dax winced. "Probably not today," he said, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "Miss MacKinnon is still upset about you and Michael hitting each other with sticks."

Ryan and Michael looked at each other and glowered.

Dax ruffled Ryan's hair and stood back up. "So who's got a request for me to turn into first?"

Several hands shot up in the air, and Dax grinned.

"You know, ya really should've planned for something like this."

Cassie fixed Em with a withering glare. "How the hell was I supposed to plan for this? Tell me, O wise one, that I might learn your ancient secrets."

Em just laughed, which was definitely helpful and in no way at all made Cassie want to nail her to the outside of a speeding train. "Gurl, HQ's a weird place, 's'all I'm saying. You were bound to wind up on a date some time."

"Oh really?" Cassie's voice had that forced politeness to it common to teachers about to go absolutely postal on the little turds in Form 4B. "And I suppose you are too, by that logic."

"Like I said, HQ's hella weird. One time, I got chased around by animated luncheon meat, so a date like this one you're on? Not so crazy. At least your date didn't eat your laptop or something."

"Eat my - you know, I was just thinking the dessert menu around here was a little lacking in variety." Cassie glanced around at her surroundings. "Too heavy on the fruit for my liking."

Em cackled. "Damn, Cass. This is why I keep you around."

"That and I'm the only person willing to go in a bathroom you've used in the last four millennia."

"Yeah, that too."

"Merlin's sweaty taint." Cassie paced around a little bit. "I just feel so sticky. It's horrible."

"I knoooow." Em shrugged. "Could be worse. The heat could be stuck on again."

"I need about half a dozen showers and a Scourgify. These robes have absolutely had it. And now is a really bad time to find out my shoes don't fit properly any more. Bloody hell. My feet are killing me."

"Mine too. These sweatpants are designer."

"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

"Haaaa."

The two agents paced around a bit more, grimacing at the state of themselves.

"And that guy from Building Maintenance was really unhelpful," Cassie said after a while. "I told him about this bloody date I'm on and what did he do?"

"Said 'Congratulations', mumbled something about a bomb threat, and hung up. Which you told me. Like, four times now."

"Well, it bears repeating."

"Not. Four. Times."

"... I suppose not, but it irked me a bit, that's all. Sorry, Em, I don't mean to go on."

"I know, Cass, it's fine. It'll be okay."

They embraced for a moment, then recoiled before they stuck together.

"Cass?"

"Yes, Em?"

Em pointed at the edge of the giant date they were standing on top of. "Uh... how do we get down?"

---

I'm a complete cow sometimes. >=]

Ix knocked on the door of the bathroom before fiddling with her tie. "Our reservation's at seven, and we still have to make it down to New Cal."

"Gimme one more minute," Charlotte called.

Ix sighed and leaned against the wall, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her gelled hair. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on the selfie camera, examining her face for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. Charlotte had done some phenomenal work with the concealer, and though her scars were still obviously visible, they weren't as angry and red and attention-drawing as normal. She had to resist the urge to touch her face, too.

Everything about her looked... different. Good different. She looked handsome. Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyebrows angular, and when she smiled, she could almost ignore the way her scars pulled down the corner of her mouth.

It was a strange feeling, but one she wouldn't mind getting to experience more often.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ix hastily stowed her phone in her suit's pocket, eyes going wide when she got a look at Charlotte. "Whoa."

Charlotte slowly turned around so Ix could properly see the backless evening gown, its purple silk draped elegantly over her frame. "You like?" She blinked slowly, pale lavender eye shadow visible behind her glasses.

"Very much," Ix said, swallowing. "Wow. Lottie, you look beautiful."

Charlotte stepped up to her, leaning on tiptoes to kiss Ix. "And you look absolutely dashing in that suit," she said, wrapping her arms around Ix's waist. "You should wear it more often. Go for that James Bond look."

Ix snorted. "If anything, I'm channeling Blofeld," she said.

"A really hot Blofeld, then," Charlotte said, kissing her again. "Or Alec Trevelyan. But we should get going; I already wasted enough time doing my makeup."

Ix offered her an arm and Charlotte looped hers through. "My lady," she said, and they headed to the door."

"Okay: how do I look?" Gall stepped out of the bathroom and spread her arms.

On his cot, Derik lowered The Tempest and rolled over to his right far enough to look at her without twisting his neck.

There was a moment. Gall was familiar with this moment. It was almost like a staring contest, each of them watching and waiting to see if something would happen. It hadn't yet, and Gall was getting a bit desperate. Not that she was desperate, mind you, just frustrated. But not frustrated. She wasn't pining away for Twu Wub like some yak-brained idiot. It was just . . .

Derik tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Like you raided the darkest, most humiliating depths of Elms' closet," he said.

The moment ended, like it always did, in disappointment. Gall sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

Derik went on: "I thought you said you were going to World One. That can't be appropriate."

Dammit, she'd been sure this would get a reaction. The low white bodice with the sleeves hanging off her shoulders, the tight green leather corset and matching skirt, the sheer white stockings and black buckled shoes . . . the costume didn't leave much to the imagination. Okay, so Gall didn't have much to flaunt in the assets department, but the corset helped, and the color suited her complexion, too. She was a natural redhead. That was supposed to count for something, dammit!

"Shows what you know," she huffed. "This is totally traditional. I'm supposed to be, like, a leprechaun or something. Buy me a green beer and I'll show you me pot o' gold." She cocked her hips and grinned. That was a pretty good line, if she did say so herself, and she did. "Pretty good, right?"

Nothing.

Dammit.

Derik sat up. "Correct me if I'm wrong—"

"You're wrong."

"—but I thought this holiday was about a man named Patrick driving snakes off an island that never had any to begin with. What does this—" he gestured to all of her "—have to do with that?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. Who cares? It's an excuse to party, and everything has to be green. Green clothes, green beer, green food—and get this: the city we're going to, Chicago? Gremlin says they turn their river green."

"Are you sure she's not winding you up?"

"No. But again, who cares, as long as there's booze and hot people?" In a brilliantly unsubtle segue, she added, "You could come if you want. I bet we could find you a shamrock thong." Gods, she wished.

"No," Derik said far more quickly and decisively than was fair. "You and Gremlin have your Girls' Night. I'll stay in this time." He held up his book, telling her he planned to be extremely boring and sit around reading all night.

She sighed again. "Fine. Don't forget to sweep out the fireproof corner, it's getting all sooty again."

"Fine, fine." He flicked his fingers; he'd take care of it. "Go. Have fun."

He really meant that last part. Dammit.

She smirked at him. "Hey, if I come home with someone, do you want me to warn you, or what?"

He looked down at his book and shrugged those perfectly contoured shoulders she was dying to sink her fingers and possibly her teeth into. "I'll clear out if you like. I would prefer a warning, but if that isn't possible, an awkward scramble will have to suffice."

Dammit. "Heh. Yeah, fair enough."

The sad part was, if he'd just been a normal person and jumped her bones as soon as she made it clear she was interested, that probably would have been the end of it. As it stood, his bizarre and unnatural reluctance was like a challenge, and she never backed down from a challenge. She had never expected it to go on this long, and she knew she should have given up ages ago, but without her notice, things had changed. The longer it dragged out, the less it was about pure, clean animal lust, and the more it became about something much harder to define, like maybe principles or honor. Whatever. The point was, she knew he would come around one day. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And when that day came, she would be there, and all would be right with the world.

But in the meantime, she'd party with her best friend, get drunk on green beer, and maybe get a little action to tide her over.

"All right, I'm off to paint the town green. Catch you later!"

One day.

---

This is set in the very near future, obviously. Apologies for the distilled cultural insensitivity that is a typical St. Patrick's Day celebration in these parts. Personally, I make a point of staying indoors on whatever Saturday they do the thing with the river. Drunk loonies everywhere. *shudder*

I kinda feel like I should apologize for taking you inside Gall's head, too, but really getting in there and figuring out how it works is something I need to do, so y'all get to take the journey with me. The MTG colors thread has actually helped with this, making the title all the more appropriate. ^^

~Neshomeh

P.S. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TheTempest">Just in case anyone is wondering why The Tempest. (It's funny. Chuckle ironically, dammit!)

“‘Ey, Thoth! Where’re you going?” Tom didn’t even look all the way up from his console as the Space Marine walked towards the door.

The marine in question was, unusually, not dressed in his armor. He kept a simple robe for such occasions, which is what he was wearing. After an incident involving Luxury in a particularly mischievous mood, a pair of extremely large sweatpants scrounged from somewhere had been added to the outfit, as an extra insurance of decency. He turned to face his partner. “Tom, I am going on a… date.”

Tom blinked, finally looking up. “What.”

“A date,” Thoth continued. “With a girl. I understand you are aware of the concept.”

“Yeah, but… you’re a Space Marine. Don’t you…” Tom let out a sigh. “Nevermind. Whatever. Who’re you going with?”

“Talia Ornix, DoSAT,” Thoth replied. “Now, I believe I must go.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Tom in the gloom of the RC.

Tom got back to work. For all of five minutes. For some reason, he couldn’t focus, his thoughts wandering back to what Thoth had said. Talia was… cool. Good. He was very happy for them.

Tom sighed, speaking to nobody in particular. “Who am I kidding? I something to take my mind off this.”



Rudi’s was moderately crowded, and just loud enough to distract anyone trying to think. That was just fine by Tom. Farah Tahar was up by the bar, and, judging by her expression, was probably explaining to the newbie next to her that no, the name of her species was not “catgirl.” Off in a corner, Peregrin was trying to read, with mixed success. As if any more noise was required, someone had brought in a piano, somehow. An entity with a frankly uncomfortable number of tentacles was currently behind it playing a rendition of “Piano Man” that would have been impossible for anyone with less appendages, while a group of assassins looked on.

Tom took a seat at the bar that wasn’t directly next to anyone. He didn’t really feel like talking to anyone. He ordered a Coke with added Bleep, and tried to lose himself in the music. It wasn’t that he… liked Talia, per se, he told himself. Sure, she was very cute, and she seemed nice, and she was DoSAT, so he could actually talk to her effectively… but it wasn’t that. It was just… well, he supposed he was jealous of his partner’s success. He’d never had a date in his life. And heck, did Space Marines even have an interest? Even if they did, why the heck would someone go out with one? Well, except maybe Gall… He spared himself a grin, recalling her antics at Halloween.

He sighed, resting his head on the bar. Jeez. How long had he been working, anyways, before this? He couldn’t even remember...

…

The next thing Tom knew, someone was poking at his back.

“Hey, you awake? SYN, anyone?”

“Wha, a– buh? ACK! ACK!” He abruptly pulled his head. “What’s up? I’m up! Things! Stuff! Activities!”

The assailant giggled. “It’s me. Come on, Tom. How’s your day been?”

Tom finally managed to get a good look the person behind him. Tall, short black hair, a smirk on her full lips, DoSAT patch… “Talia? ‘s that you?”

“I can’t think of a tech who looks exactly like me, so it must be. For that matter, how many techs tend to want to touch anything from your universe?” Talia gave a smile. “No, really, how’re you doing?”

“Okay, I guess…” Tom stared back blearily. “So anyways, how was the date?”

“What.”

“You know, with Thoth?”

“Ooooh, that! Yeah, I did go on a date with Thoth…”

Tom sighed under his breath.

“...if by date, you mean upgrading his dataslates to interface with something that’s not terrible. I swear, those things make token-ring look elegant…” Talia frowned. “Glad that’s over.”

Tom shook his head rapidly. “Wait, what? So… not liked a date-date.”

Talia frowned. “Space Marines don’t date, Tom. I’m not even even a field agent, why am I explaining your main canon to you?”

“No, I know that, but… Thoth said…”

“Oh, because that makes perfect sense.” Talia rolled her eyes. “So, just to get this straight, your partner, scary ex-worshipper of the god of lies and deception told you something that conflicted with your view of reality in a massive way… and you just believed him. Wow, great thinking, Tom.”

“...are you implying I’m an idiot?”

“No, I’m telling you you’re an idiot. Subtlety is not my specialty.”

Tom smiled slightly. “Uh… Thanks, I guess? Now I’ll go… not punch my partner in the face, because he’s pretty scary.”

“You go do that.” Talia grinned. “Just so we’re clear, I am never letting you live this down. Well, not until you beat me at StarCraft, anyways”

“Hey! It’ll happen one day!” called back Tom over his shoulder.

“Not a chance…” Talia said. But Tom was already gone.



“Thoth, do you ever lie to me?”

Thoth turned another page in his novel. “No,” he said, dispassionately. “I have not, technically, ever told you anything that is untrue.”

Tom sighed. “But why?”

“Because you must maintain any talent you intent to keep,” said Thoth. “Additionally, I have an abundance of free time. For the first time since I began my training as a Thousand Son, I have had to consider how to spend it.”

“So…” Tom spoke in a tone spiked with incredulity. “You mess with me… because… you’re bored.”

“An accurate summation, yes. Although you are remarkably easy to deceive.”

“You… You…” Tom deflated then, remembering Talia’s words. “Okay, you might actually have a point…”

--

Tom, Thoth, and Talia all belong to me (Jeez, I need to stop making characters with names that start with T). Peregrin and Farah belong to Tomash, used here with permission. The rest belongs to a lot of people, you know the drill.

Elanor safe in the Nursery? Check. Zeb sufficiently distracted and out of the RC? Check. TARDIS tidied up? Well, sort of check. It was presentable, anyway.

Hair?

The Aviator growled out a low string of Gallifreyan swears as she tugged a brush through her snarled locks. Once she had her hair straightened, braiding it would be easy, but right now she was wrestling with a knot the size of her fist, and she was seriously beginning to consider reaching for the scissors.

Wait—there. The rat came loose and the Aviator quickly brushed it smooth before setting to work on braiding.

She glanced behind her at the black dress she'd laid out on her bed, taken from the TARDIS' wardrobe. She wasn't normally one for dresses—cargo pants and tank tops were more her speed—but she and the Detective had decided to try and make a proper date out of this. Of course, knowing him, he'd probably show up in his tattered coat as always, but she was trying, dammit.

Not that this was a date-date. Just a... semi-more-romantic leadup to another night together.

They weren't dating.

That would be silly.

The Aviator tucked a silver hair comb into the braided bun at the back of her head and frowned. Why was she going to all this trouble when it would all get pulled loose in tonight's activities?

She didn't want to look nice for him or anything. He certainly wasn't going to go to the same effort.

It just felt like the thing to do, that was all. That was it.

The TARDIS hummed in amusement and the Aviator gestured at the ceiling with her middle finger. "Shut it, you," she said. "It's not a date. And I'll thank you to not bother us while we're busy!"

The TARDIS rumbled again, but fell silent.

There was a quick rapping on the door, and the Aviator's head whipped around when she smelled Zeb on the other side. "Don't co—!"

"I'm just letting you know I'm borrowing the OH MY GOSH ARE YOU GOING ON A DATE TONIGHT IS THE DETECTIVE COMING OVER ARE YOU TWO GONNA KISS?!" Zeb squeed, his mane poofing out as sparks flew from his fur. He bounced in a small circle in the doorway before sprinting away. "I'M BORROWING THE X-BOX DON'T MIND ME OKAY BYE!"

The Aviator groaned and let her head hit the dresser. So much for keeping the not-date secret.