Our muses are cadets in Star Fleet academy, they’re new roommates and don’t get along at all.
Gamlen’s roommate was a Dalish-pedigreed knife ear. She was also very, very hot. He smirked lewdly at her and was given a revolted sneer in response.
"Clearly there has been a mistake," she quipped. "I am fairly certain that the rooms here are segregated by sex, if nothing else."
"I’d be happy to segregate your legs by sex," he said, and her eyelids dropped a fraction, orbs traveling the length of him.
"I doubt it," she announced as the result of her inspection. She disappeared around the corner, using the comm to notify the registration and housing office that there had been a mix-up. By the time she’d returned Gamlen had stretched back, folding his hands beneath his head.
"Do not get comfortable. You will be leaving." Her words were curt and left no room for argument.
He shrugged, watching her begin to put her things away. “I’m pretty sure there aren’t any Dalish clans floating around in space,” he said.
A sneer slid onto her lips as she silently slipped a shirt onto its hanger. Five seconds later, she asked, “Aren’t you a little old for a recruit?” without sparing another look his way.
"Family’s gone." He shrugged with enough force to pop his back. The sensation drew a thick and appreciative purr from his throat, the likes of which visibly nauseated his roommate. "My galaxy needs me."
She snorted. “By the smell of you, I’m guessing you enlisted as an expert in what not to do for one’s personal health.”
"Xenolinguistics, actually," he drawled.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, clearly uncertain whether to believe him or not.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked.
"It means I can do fascinating, skilled and alien things with my tongue."
He didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were rolling.
"Care for a demonstration?"
"No," she said flatly, and proceeded to stand and grab his bag, throwing it out into the hall before continuing to unpack.
