[Turbolift]
Dad always said, "Your mouth is going to get you killed." And that was ironic because the last biting insult she threw at him before leaving was straight up murder - until he was actually murdered by greedy trading partners. Since then, her mouth had taken her places both wondrous and troubling, with barely a filter there on par to a Tellurite.
So she waited for something. And waited. It was a very small turbolift, but a big guy like the Admiral could probably make one hell of a use with it. He could smack her around or kill her like a Klingon whose honor was threatened. Or at least scream at her until she succumbed to either deafness or fear.
The corner of her mouth twitched, almost giving away her gamble. But the Admiral folded his cards and resumed with hardly a response. And when he exited the lift, Kali almost doubled over behind his back, scared from hell to back like a recoiled cobra.
She was going to put coffee on the stand for her impending court martial. She didn't know why she mouthed off like that. The way he spoke just kind of pushed her into it. Like a spray bottle hovering over a cornered cat.
"Oh my god," she whispered to herself in horror. "I think I broke the Admiral."
Tekin was going to kill her. She almost comically stumbled chasing after him. "That was just lift-talk, Admiral! Please don't court martial me!"
[Shuttlebay]
Adeyemi glanced over his shoulder at the nearly hysterical woman, fixed her with his best impression of his biological grandmother's evil eye. A nasty one, that grandmother. Full blown Yoruba, hadn't lived a day in anything not considered traditional culture. If you needed your future read or a lover cursed she was your gal. Mostly, the admiral remembered her for her groundnut stew and how she abhorred Christianity, but she'd also been the family witch. And he'd also gotten along with her better than he cared to admit.
"I'll deal with you later, chief," Adeyemi told her roughly. "Right now, we've got--"
"Hello all!" A cheery English voice said. Smythe was a tall man, no longer young, with plain brown hair that was mightily receding from his pimpled brow. His stork like body was mostly elbows and knees and protuberant Adam's apple.
"Smythe. Are we ready to go?" Adeyemi said in his own English accented voice. Despite their shared national origin of sorts neither man had any love for one another.
"Almost, admiral, almost." Smythe had long teeth, and he used them to his full advantage when he beamed a smile at Reyes. "Kali. Dearest Kali. Brooklyn's own, the sweetheart of the USS Discovery. I believe you know why I'm here."
"You're here to pilot us to the surface, and you're cocking up the job." Adeyemi snapped.
"I'd be most happy to get underway, sir, once I am paid what I am owed." Smythe said, smile starting to strain. "Our chief here owes me exactly four strips of latinum thanks to Z'Mov covering the spread in last night's Parisees Squares tournament. What were you
thinking, chief, backing a Bolian against a Caitain? We all know those blue men don't have that feline strength and agility!"