" … and she was just stomping her foot? " The half-awake… gravelly voice of Warner responded to the on-screen view of one of his Security Officers aboard the Starbase. He still lay in bed, a bag of ice planted on his forehead with all the lights off and windows covered. The officer wasn’t sure if he should have been asking for the current health condition of his commanding officer… but he didn’t.
" She’s also had a few interesting interactions with the computer, not to mention locked out a few times… " Warner sat up at that, his brain slowly catching up as the wave of diziness of that prophesied anger at whatever Commander Nathes had been giving him to drink came true. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting out a long sigh. " Computer… lights. "
Before his brain could add that command would probably not be a good idea, the Gods of Lights themselves exploded above Warner… the normal light level causing the Chief of Security to cover his face with an arm, cursing lightly. " Fucking… Computer, dim the light by ninety five percent… for fuck sake… " The computer slowly responded, the lights going down… almost passive aggressively slow… as if in response to his language.
The Security Officer on the comm tried not to laugh, the corner of his lip twitching. It was interesting, seeing Warner being anything other then his normal fuck off state. " … just … keep track of her. Monitor her… keep her away from anything that could put the base or anyone else in danger. Politely. We have no idea… fucking hell. " He rubbed his temples mid-sentence, clearing his throat afterwards. " We have no idea what she’s going through. Contact me if anything changes or escalates. Warner out. "
He promptly cut off the communication before anything could be added as he he shook his head and eyes, still recovering from the blinding lights of creation. He walked over to the sink, putting on the cold water as he went about brushing his teeth. Afterwards, he rinsed his face off… glacier hues staring at his twin in the mirror… ebony tresses splayed about.
" Computer. Personal Log. Stardate… fucking… today. " He rubbed his face again as he walked over to the bed, stretching… then pulled on a pair of boxers… then dropped forward on the floor… immediately sinking into the daily routine of pushups. Even with the headache, Warner was a creature of habit. Routine.
" Nathes. I like her. End log. "