Pardon Me While I Have a Lil Flashback, Part 3

[Rue Wydown 0]

Pardon Me While I Have a Lil Flashback, Part 3

Commander Ruth Wydown

 

((This is just some back story about my character and her history, a peek in her head while she's knocked out cold on the bridge/sickbay. The dialogue underlined indicates words spoken in the Ralafean language - translated in English for the reader for the fun of it. ))

 

Rue groaned softly, sliding into the rear passenger compartment of the speeder. She ran her hands over the butter soft seats and smiled in appreciation. Her own hand-me-down vehicle was, for years, passed from off-worlder to off-worlder cadet, making it look like a flying dung heap held together with duct tape and zip ties. Clay hated it, and yet Rue appreciated its charm. Just as she appreciated a vehicle where she didn't have to worry about where she sat down. She whimpered softly, slinking down in the seat in relaxation. When she glanced up she found that Clayton had turned in his seat and was now giving her the stink eye. He'd apparently mistook her groan of pleasure with that of pain and was letting her know it would cost her later. In a huff, he turned back around and sat in stony silence as his buddy Mal took off.

 

"Nice ride," Rue commented, ignoring the fact that Wydown's silent treatment was supposed to make her uncomfortable. "What is this? A GX?"

 

"A GT," Malcolm Alexander corrected, glancing over to Clayton every now and then. "Father only buys the best."

 

"Fantastic." Rue grinned, leaning back into the seat.

 

"Honestly, I'd be fine with a jalopy. But if he's offering…who am I to turn him down?" Mal flashed a wry grin in the rearview mirror.

 

"You can trade with me, if you want." Rue teased, glancing at the back of Clay's sable brown hair. She could tell he was shaking his head, just minuscule amount, enough to signal his disparagement of Rue and Mal's conversation.. "Ah, c'mon luv. Talk to me. About me. At me. Just…stop sulking." Rue spoke to herself, trying to come up with a plan to break Clay out of his funk.

 

"Yes, I agree. He's being a git."

 

Rue paused for only a nano-second before leaning over forward seats. "You understood that?" She asked in amusement, laying her head on the seatback to give Mal a sideways look.

 

He glanced at the review mirror, his eyes crinkling in a grin. "A UT." He flashing his cadet commbadge and speaking the acronym with authority.

 

"No way! You're Academy too?" Rue sat up straighter in enthusiasm.

 

"Security Studies and Pre-Eugenics. Just made First Class," he replied. He paused a beat, tossing a sidelong glance at Clay, then frowning at Rue in the mirror. "Wait, what do you mean, 'too'?"

 

"Why didn't you tell me," Rue punched Clayton gently in the arm. When she got no reaction from the living statue she turned back to Mal. "Emergency med me-self. Did you get stuck with Mahom or T'Hvall for first year Intro?"

 

"T'Hvall." The dark-haired man visibly twitched. "And what a total...Vulcan."

 

"Rather have had the Vulcan, mate. Mahom spits on the first row every time." Rue smirked. "I used to bring an umbrella just in case I got stuck there."

 

"I'd heard that from a guy in my advanced strat class. He said he used to wear his raincoat on the days he had Mahom."

 

"Oooh....and...and....and..." Rue bounced in her chair like a little kid who can't help but share a secret. "...tell me you had the dude with that thing from the place!"

 

"The archaeologist who spent a little too much time in the Egyptian sun?"

 

"Yes!" She punched the air in triumph.

 

"For half a term. He was -- ahem -- replaced. Rumor has it he was asked to leave for misconduct. With a cadet."

 

She grinned again, and heard Clayton suck air through his teeth. Clearly he was not happy. Whether this was because he was left out of the conversation or because he'd preferred to sulk in silence, she wasn't sure. Thouvenot gave Wydown a sideways glance before continuing her conversation with Clay's buddy. "He's wondering what the hell I'm prattling on about, isn't he?"

 

"Uh…yes. Yes he is."

 

Rue gave Clay a sideways glance for any reaction other than a hrrphed sigh. "Serves him right, the slimy git." Rue continued to speak cheerfully. "I'll keep talking like this. And you can say whatever the heck you want as a response. He won't know what the heck we're talking about. I betcha curiosity is bound to catch up to him. Ha! Tell you what, the first one to make him break his silence, wins."

 

"You sure?"

 

Rue wasn't entirely sure if Mal was going to appreciate being used in such a way, but she had to do something to get Clay's attention. "Not really, but if you have a better idea. Then I'm all ears."

 

"What's the wager?"

 

"Winner's choice. Within a 'Fleeter's budget, of course" She laughed softly, her hands caressing her seat. Rue had no latinum save her small scholarship stipend. She could afford a drink, just not the glass it came in.

 

Mal seemed to give Clayton a sideway glance. "You're on." He grinned and shrugged as if to say why not. For a good portion of their ride, Rue and Mal carried on a weirdly disjointed conversation with imaginative responses trying to get a rise out of Clayton. It was either this, or beg him to speak to her – and she wasn't about to do that. But after forty minutes, he showed no signs of breaking. She was beginning to wonder how well she really knew her boyfriend when she decided to give it one last shot.

 

"You're kidding me." Mal responded to her inane comment about the weather.

 

"Seriously. They did an interpretive dance…while wearing a Snuggie." She broke into Federation standard as if she'd forgotten she'd been talking in code to punish Clayton.

 

Finally catching his attention, Clayton turned on his seat, "Wha – wha--what?"

 

"Damn."

 

"I win." Rue answered smugly.

 

"Win what?" Clayton's eyebrow arched. He was at looking at her over his seat, although with that crazy stink eye.

 

Rue slowly leaned over until she was practically nose to nose, her mouth curling in a challenge. "The first one that gets you to say something, wins." She could feel his breath on her lips. C'mon you git, snap out of it. Talk to me. Tease me. Rant at me. Hell, kiss me. Just do something.

 

Clay sighed, turning around in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. Rue felt hurt and sat back as well. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

"What do I owe you?" Mal asked, breaking Rue's sulk.

 

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to their bet. Determined not to let Clay's Ice-Man impression break her mood. "An ice cream."

 

"Ice cream?" Mal looked at to Clay, "She wants ice cream."

 

What she really wanted was to get the hell out of the vehicle so she could regroup and attack the problem with a semi-clear head. The only way to do that was get Mal to pull over. Rue leaned over from the backside where she's been confined, "Yes, ice cream. Or, frozen yogurt. A custard. I cannae have an ale which, trust me, I'd prefer. But you'd have to pour me into my dorm room if hit the local pub. Or back into the infirmary. So ice cream it is." She say Mal's skeptical look. "C'mon mate, a girl's gotta have something to dull the edge."

 

"You sure you want to chance a brainfreeze after the thrashing you just gave it?"

 

And while she was answering Mal's question, Rue purposely directed her response towards Clay. "A wise man once said pain is inevitable. Choosing to suffer through it is a choice." She poked Mal in the arm, "Pretty please. With sprinkles on top?"

 

Mal looked over his shoulder at her, "You're mental. Utterly and completely mental." He shook his head, veering to the right. He cast a sidelong glance at his mate, grimacing briefly as he saw Clay scowl out the window.

 

"So I have been told."

[STSF_BluRox 0]

"Seriously. They did an interpretive dance…while wearing a Snuggie."

 

More wrong, than they'll ever know......