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Assignment - R&R
#42
After just missing De’s arrival and Kei’s surf bound descent to the lobby, ‘Vok dropped Chandi off at her room and made his way down the hall toward his own door. Or maybe it was AJ’s door, and she had been but kind enough the previous evening to let a poor wayward alien crash there. Either way, he was almost sure that was where he would find his uniform waiting for him, considering that was where fate had helped him leave it. Of coarse that was assuming that it had indeed returned along with the rest of the guest’s attire. But the thought of finding his clothes quickly left his brain when he walked through the door of the room.

The Skrull found his senses under attack immediately upon entering the lush apartment, making it difficult for ‘Vok to think straight. Which was nothing new really, considering AJ had that effect on most men. But unlike ‘Vok at that precise moment, most men did not have to endure the pixie’s glamour in full force while staring at her naked silhouette through the steam-covered glass of a frosted shower door. One could, without question, consider ‘Vok’s timbers to be officially shivered. It was only the whimsical, lyrical work emanating from behind the shower door that stirred the pirate’s thoughts from the lustful for the briefest of moments. If he wasn’t mistaken, ‘Vok thought he heard his intoxicating faery friend bouncing effortlessly between Creedence Clearwater Revival and Andrew Lloyd Webber. ”Only AJ”, he thought as he approached the misty doorway that she had left standing wide.

With a twisted grin that could mean any number of insidious things, ‘Vok called out to the otherwise occupied woman, “Not sure that I know that one me lass, but if you give me a chance, me might be able to hum a few bars for ye’. Or I could always handle the more taxing aspects of this here exercise, freeing you to better concentrate on one thing at a time.” That being said, and with his form now reverted proudly to its natural green, ‘Vok stepped into the welcoming warmth of the almost ethereal mists, without so much as a second thought, having shed his makeshift magenta tunic seemingly without conscious thought, effort or the ability to do otherwise.
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