Ianthe stayed kneeling on the floor for the duration of several long, slow breaths after Darion stalked from the engine room. Finally, though, she turned a sheepish look up toward Toi, and with her eyes still a bit glassy from the euphoric effect of his touch, laced her fingers through his and helped herself to her feet.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I'm... sorry,"</span>she said to him, and found herself straying a light touch over his cheek.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I know how much it sucks being treated like you're just kind of a tool, a thing, an asset; expensive, maybe, but disposable."</span><br/><br/>Without elaborating, though, she gave him a gentle tug.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"You didn't answer my question, though. Do you eat, or drink? I can make us some coffee, and you can open your present from Neymi. Not here; maybe the galley, or your quarters, or mine, or someplace where the captain isn't going to bother you. Maybe best to just stay away from each other until we can get this sorted out. And we will, I promise."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>