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Not really, [he smirked,] I mean, I'm not gonna fuck a Klingon, you feel? [A pause.] Although-- Nah, just kidding.

[At the mention of the First Officer, however, his playful expression vanishes as he curls his lip, almost instinctively.] I dunno which Ktarian kid you're talking about. But he sounds like a sad little thing. Kudos to you for surviving your awful job, what's it like being Spock's personal maid? 

Oh my God, whatever. “If it’s got a pulse”, that’s your motto, isn’t it? 

Not counting my mom? Mr. Spock and that one Ktarian kid. [She wrinkles her nose, folding her arms across her chest.] Both are totally batshit crazy, but at least Mr. Spock doesn’t follow me around all the time and look for excuses to grope me, when he’s not acting like a total nervous loser. 

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One: it's not flattery, it's the truth. And two: I ain't horny. I get myself plenty. Like, every day, every night. 

Thanks, [exaggerating a sigh, he leans closer and hugs her, smirking.] I know you love me. But just cause I'm a curious man, who are the other two unlucky bastards?

Stud? Ugh, stop trying to flatter yourself. Should just call you weird horny douche. 

Fine. Only because you’re one of the, like, three people that talks to me. 

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[Sam laughed, throwing the android a slightly disbelieving glance. There was obviously something different in him than the rest of the robots that helped around the ship. Not one of them had ever said something as weird as 'hunky dory'.] Okay.

If you must know, because our lovely little Empire [and here, he said it with disdain, as if he had eaten something unpleasant] loves taking over new places, I'm trying to develop a new strain of a virus that will attack a specific race's immune system. That's all I can tell you, really. I need more of the T53 samples. Can I get some? [he drawled, mockingly.

Stopping in front of him, he grinned.] I'd take more care of what leaves this place and what doesn't. I don't think my brother would like chemicals and medicine disappearing all of a sudden. The same can't be said for the contraceptives. We're a bunch of horny motherfuckers, ain't we?

[Ah prying, the robot did not like that. Not at all. To keep Randolph safe, he needed to man to stay on the down low. If he took all the damage, that would be fine. At least he could be repaired, whereas the human couldn’t be brought back from death.He assumed Randy would always fix him, considering he protected the man and provided him with valuable information. Though he could never be sure.]

That is how I would prefer it to be. You do not need to know of him, nor me, and every thing will be as you say “hunky dory”.

Oh, but it is my business. I am supposed to make sure supplies are kept full, so I will need to know what your harmless research requires. Not that I care what you do with them. Like I said, I will find them for you myself.

[Abel stood his ground as the man stepped closer, gaze following his, trying to decipher what exactly he was look for.] Medicine that normally isn’t used, certain chemicals that I have yet to find a science officer using in the labs. As well as contraceptive devices, in case you were wondering. At least sexual diseases are not running rampant.

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Egg sandwiches? That's fucked up. No. Fine, what about stud?

I regret the moment I chose asking you that would be a good idea, then. And I know, I know. [Sam smiles brightly, nudging her arm.] I'll stop. If you stop calling me that.

Yeah, dream on. Is that the name of one of those sandwiches? Egg McSteamy? Breakfast sandwiches are kind of a turn-off if you ask me.

More like three seconds. And only because you asked me. This place and the starbase aren’t that different, anyway. They’re both full of murder pervs, just one of them is moving and the other isn’t.

[She snorts in response, rolling her eyes.] Don’t pretend you wish shit, Mr. Toffee.

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I've already told you, call me McSteamy and we're all good, babe.

Ah yes, the infamous starbase. I had to endure you complaining for three hours straight about that, remember? Yeah, well I do. God forbid you ever go back there.

 Alright, I wish I could help. [They both know he really doesn't.]

Yeah, well, you try coming up with a nickname that doesn’t fucking suck and I’ll give it a try. But for now, it’s sticking. Like toffee.

I’ve told her to fuck off like a billion times already. And if I don’t answer she just calls over and over and over and leaves a bunch of angry voicemails and then threatens to have me removed and then I’d have to go back to the starbase. The starbase is gross.

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[Sir. There was no one calling him sir unless they knew who he was, or they were scared. Not of him, no, why would they, but of his brother. Always Jim, always. It was cool though. The kid acted as a shield against the dirt and the craziness of the ship, and that was always welcome. But it stopped being cute and funny when all he asked for was at least some recognition.

Anyway.] Your creator? 'M afraid I don't know your creator. Fuck, I don't even know your goddamn name, I've only seen ya around a couple o'times. 

[Sam frowned, albeit he wanted to chuckle at the android's face. Who did he think he was, anyway. Fuck.] That ain't none of your damn business. I'm doing harmless research, that's all. But now that you mention it, what sort of odd supplies?

[Easy to turn the tables, if only for a split moment. Didn't matter, he was walking closer to him, eyeing the boxes and shelves around him.]

[There was a faint smile on his lips, this man wasn’t one he would have expected to show.The android ran his gaze up and down the man’s body quickly before making an identity match. Kirk, Sam. Oh dear. The smile vanished.]

Dr. McCoy? No, sir. I do not work for him, nor anyone. Nor my creator, despite what he or others may say. I am free to my own devices. Doing the best for the crew as I see fit.

I’d be glad to let you have some /stuff/, if you’ mind telling me what exactly it is you need, an I’ll gladly fetch it for you.[Abel placed his hands behind his back, quirking a brow towards the Kirk. He hardly seemed as…insane as his sibling. Though he knew looks could always be deceiving, and it was always better to believe a person was strong rather than weak.] There have been many…odd supplies vanishing, and I am merely curious at to which people are taking them.

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I wouldn't mind if it was an actually cool nickname. What the fuck, who even eats fucking toffee anyway. Fuck that shit, it's nasty.

I think both our moms are trying to fuck someone and that someone is us. [He pokes her nose, raising an eyebrow.] Why do you even answer her calls anyway, tell her to fuck off.

Stop acting all pissed. You never told me to stop, just got all huffy about it.

Yeah, well, you’re a grown-up. And a guy. And your mom might be a bitch, but at least she’s not a telepathic bitch. So we have completely different kinds of issues. Yours is wanting to fuck everyone and mine is wanting everyone to leave me alone. Deep, right?

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You're just never going to stop calling me that no matter what I do or say, hm?

I get it. Your mom's a bitch. So is mine. I can safely say that sorta attitude usually comes with issues. It's part of the package. [He smirks, crossing his arms.] Beautiful, innit?

Wow, Mr. Toffee’s back. Being weird and stuff.

It’s not mommy issues. We don’t have issues. My mom’s just a huge telepathic bitch. There’s a difference.

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Shit.

Someone's got a huge case of mommy issues. What's up, girl?

Mom, I’m fine. I just got up. 

No. 

No, he’s—he’s not bothering me. Nobody’s bothering me. It’s very professional. Promise. 

For someone who’s so fucking worried about me being late, you sure are making me late, Mom. 

Can you just—oh my God, just get off my case. Jesus. 

Can I go now? Great. Talk to you later. 

Yeah. Love you too. 

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Yo, [Sam stuffed his hands in the pockets of his uniform, leaning against the doorway. This man, android, whatever he was, he had seen him before. Now that he was there, he had to make sure of one thing only, and so before anything else could happen he bluntly asked,] You working for Doc McCoy or something? 

[Because if he was, then stealing some of the samples for his experiments would be a hell of a lot harder than it already was. Not to mention that last time, he had found some strange chemicals and materials that he was pretty damn sure no one needed to make medicines or shit. That would get whoever saw or touched them in a whole lot of trouble. So what the hell had that been.]

I just need some stuff. You gonna let me in, or. [It wasn't a threat. He didn't threaten stupid machines, with the exception of the coffee machine down in the lab. It was more of a 'or am I going to have to find another way to get in'.]

[His curiosity, well what he believed to be his own curiosity, had gotten the better of him. Rumors, he couldn’t help it. Humans were so petty with their argument, always blowing things into proportions, and often ending up with knives through their flesh. Abel wished to know everything. Who Lieutenant Meinhardt received the mouth shaped bruise on his his neck from and how exactly Ensign Dedrick had ended up dead were all key events in the Soap Opera called the Enterprise. The recent whispers lead him to start connecting people together in whatever drug business was occurring. It was near the end of his ‘shift’, as he decided to linger in one of the storage rooms, ones with more of the pharmaceuticals  pretending to work. And just as he had hope, a person was hovering by the door way, who he turned calmly towards and addressed.]

Can I help you?

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Calls you George

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Engineering! Wouldn't wanna be there. Breaches and explosions aren't really m'thing. Microorganisms, that's where the fun's at.

Doc Sam Kirk, at your service. 

I’m an engineer. Consequently, I see lots of fires, some explosions, the occasional breach. But we’re all very cheery down here. You know, the cheery murderous types. 

Oh! Erm, Ensign Viggo Ramiel, at your service. And yourself?

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You wouldn't wanna know, man, definitely not. Pretty much everyone's already insane or slowly losing it. Not me. Gotta keep my head clear, heh.

I can imagine. What exactly do you do around here, huh? And shit, what's your name?

Ah, well, obviously the kind of humor that goes over my head. 

Good God, I don’t even want to think about what goes down in medical. Sciences might get nasty, too, come to think of it. 

I suppose that’s wise. I’d try to do that, but there’s practically no escape down here. Schemes and plans. You know. 

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you + {insert name here} = sex

Oh. Well in that case, I'd definitely choose Chapel. Damn, that bitch's crazy and I love it.

Probably add good ol' doc McCoy in there too. Fucker's an asshole but I think I'd do him, make him shut the fuck up for once.