Damn it Feels Good To Be a Gangsta'.

A Real Gansta Type Player Plays His Cards Right.

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Alcove Shopping (Harry, TOSKirk)
Science labs, locked.

Medical labs, locked.

Botany, unlocked, but all the good stuff was in a cabinet with three card readers.

Gorram'it, a man could only pretend to be looking for the bathroom for so long before it started to be suspicious.

Aside from the pool table in Rec 4, there wasn't a single fucking thing on this ship worth stealing. He'd have to start gutting the walls to make a profit. No, wait, he hadn't found an unsecured route to the cargo-bays yet. Maybe one of the prints he'd lifted of the equipment, or that pilot kid's pool cue would do the trick.

Had to get on that, really.

Harry sighed as the door to botany shut behind him. Nothing but space-flowers. Not something he could fence worth half a damn. Cost more to transport it then he'd make.

Where else was left?

"I wonder if this ship has a lounge," he murmured to himself. Some real liquor, now that'd be worth stealing.

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The ship had a lounge. It had several. It was a big ship, with many people on it who led somewhat stressful, isolated lives and needed to relax.

Jim's life was not currently stressful, aside from unforeseen pregnancy, his busy social calendar, and the fact he tried to suppress which was that months of enforced inactivity was driving him stir crazy. Being changed into a woman meant he could masturbate with more frequency, but it wasn't like he was starved for sex and he did have other interests. Right now, he was lounging, seeking a place to be relatively alone that was not his quarters, even if everything on the ship looked more or less the same. He'd curled up with a copy of Orlando, finding that a Starfleet-issue loveseat was perfect in his new size for leaning on one arm and throwing his legs over the other. The fact that he was currently dressed in a flowing skirt should, perhaps, have given him pause, but it could have been worse.

The distinct lack of a wet-bar dashed Harry's hopes as efficiently as a wanted poster. He just barely restrained the scowl and litany of swearing that clawed at him.

Well, so much for alcohol.

Seriously, he was going to start breaking in to personal quarters if this didn't pick up.

Harry straightened his jacket and took a deep, calming breath. The girls still had work to do, they could handle this. Just a couple of days and they'd be at theoretical black. Maybe a glass of synthehol--fuck's sake, what was he thinking.

There was never an excuse for synthehol.

He needed a pick-me up, though, somethin' fierce. No security ensigns off duty, leastwise not in here. A couple in civi's, but they looked...Yeomanish.

Ah! Bingo.

Blonde, legs for days, very command-casual. Real paper book--Oh, Lord Almighty. Woolf, and an easy one too. Knights, Romance, and a dash of trans-gender, pro-women leanings.

Harry put on his best charming smile and decided to give it a go. At the very least, he could scam some prints.

"Praise God, I'm a woman," Harry interjected as he leaned his hip, half sitting on the leg-draped side of the undersized couch. "Figuratively, mind you."

Jim's lips quirked slightly as he looked over his book and took in the stranger. He recognized two things right off: that the man was attractive, in a self-assured, rugged, cocky sort of way, and that he was flirting with an attractive woman in a way he never would have with Jim himself.

This, he thought, could be very interesting.

But there was something else, some little spark of recognition that he could not place but resided deep down in his gut where all the other things he had no right to know but did lived. Didn't matter, really; he certainly didn't know the man, and it was entirely possible Jim was reminded of someone he'd known long ago.

"I'm not sure I'm of the same opinion, but it is nice to see a man embrace his feminine side," he said with a sort of straightforward coyness that implied he saw through the line, but didn't mind.

Well, she wasn't climbing over herself to get in his pants, but it was a start. She obviously wasn't that literary.

Didn't make no mind, though. Harry always had liked the long odds better.

"I am a man of many facets, m'dear sweet lady," Harry answered. Pouring it on thick never hurt the odds, leastwise if he could joke it off when she figured it out. "Though I can't imagine you've ever had contest with being so lovely."

Jim chuckled, not least because the pitch was so familiar. "Oh, I wasn't always like this," he said lightly, smiling up at him. "I have a few facets of my own. But aren't you sweet to say so."

It wasn't exactly irony, this situation occurring as he was reading this particular novel, as the choice of novel had been deliberate. But it was funny. He slid his eyes over the man, slowly, then drew his legs down and towards him, curling into a sitting position on half the couch.

"Why don't you sit down and stay awhile?"

"Well thank you most kindly," Harry answered smoothly and slid into the seat.

Wasn't she just a coy little ball of legs and smooth skin, curled up and just lookin'?

"Now, I hope you can forgive me, I'm new," he disclaimed and propped his elbows up on the sides of the couch. "But just what do you do around here, aside from reading classical literature and generally looking stunning, Miss...?"

Oh, here it was. Was he going to lie? Jim thought the game was funnier if he didn't, but he figured revealing himself as a Kirk would take a lot more explanation than the situation could bear. Who on earth was this man? Not Starfleet. There was that blend of the cockily secretive about him, a quality Jim had noted in various "personalities" across the galaxy. Sometimes they were amusing.

"Oh, nothing really," he said, eyes lowering for an instant in acknowledgment of the compliment. "Nothing nearly so exciting as you must."

Oh, so that was the way this game was going to be? Harry could do nameless--hell, he'd been planning on it, anyway. And goddam if he wanted to be Leo.

He'd let it slide.

"Well, it's true," he answered. "I git in more than my fair share of precarious situations, but this is the flagship of the Starfleet."

Harry rolled his shoulders, a casual shrug he'd perfected over years of negotiation.

"Surely a lovely lady like yourself, at the forefront of adventure and exploration, has a slew of stories far more entertaining then my lowly tales about trade tariffs and busted compressors."

Jim somewhat doubted it, at least when it came to believing that this was all the man had to contribute. Though "lowly" might be just about right. What was he even doing here? Aside from selling snake oil?

"Oh, well," Jim demurred. "There was the time I was captured and made to fight in gladiatorial combat for the pleasure of hyper-intelligent beings," he said, as if wondering if that might capture his interest. "You should have seen what they made us wear."

Harry stared.

She was having him on. Had to be.

Gladiatorial combat kidnappings? That was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard of, and they juggled goslings on Vega.

He stared her down for a minute, maybe two. Ree-god-damned-diculous.

"Go on," Harry said, as she stared back with that sweet expression on her cute little face. As though she'd been yammering about her grandmother.

Jim, of course, looked entirely guileless and innocent. Firstly, because he was good at that. Second, because it was actually true.

"These... hmmm... well, I suppose harnesses comes closest to describing them," he continued. "You see, they derived entertainment from pitting various scantily-clad species against one another, and betting on the results." He sighed.

Harry just barely restrained his reply of: Who doesn't?

"Well, t'ain't that a mighty curious thing," he said, instead.

If she was bullshitting him, she was a master at it. ...Not that he much objected to the image of her in a tiny harness, fighting another lovely creature in exactly as little cloth.

"An just how did you make it out of such a dangerous and eccentric sitiation?"

It was mighty curious, at that. Jim opened his eyes wide, as if, yes, it was terribly dangerous and yet, here little old her was.

"I tricked them into letting all of us go," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Which is to say, I made my own wager, and won. Of course they set three other gladiators on me at once, which isn't simple at the best of times, as I'm sure you know. Especially the last--that sweet green-haired thing who took care of me when I first got there. I had some affection for her, you know," he finished wistfully.

Oh and that right there just completed the picture, dinnit?

"Of course, of course," he agreed sagely. "Must have been very tough on you, the whole ordeal."

She was so full of it, he looked downright honest by comparison. A woman after his own heart.

"Quite a scrape, glad to see you made it out unscathed."

He didn't believe Jim, which was somewhat delicious, really. He laid a hand on the man's arm, staring up into his eyes.

"That's sweet of you. And I can't tell you how many times I've been abducted because some all-powerful alien believes me to be their perfect mate."

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