ext_1839 ([identity profile] merisunshine36.livejournal.com) wrote in [personal profile] cosmic_llin 2011-01-28 01:31 am (UTC)

Number One/Christine Chapel, The Way You Make Me Feel

Number One will never confess this aloud, but one of her favorite activities is to watch Christine study. Despite having dragged her most recent round of forms that need signing into their living room, Christine has proved herself to be enough of a distraction that One's productivity has plummeted to an abominable level.

It's the middle of finals in her first year of med school and Christine is determined to succeed in all of them, crushing them beneath her with her innate intellect, and when that doesn't work, by sheer force of will. When studying her whole body is focused; those long legs of hers curled pretzel-like in her chair while she huddles over the desk that she's colonized with a number of PADDs, old paper books, and a few models of internal organs belonging to a species Number One can't put a name to.

The edges of One's mouth soften at the slightly puzzled look on Christine's face--despite a preference for recording her thoughts longhand, her notes are usually unintelligible. Her handwriting is a free-flowing scrawl that has more in common with Vulcan script than any alphabet the Greeks ever came up with. The point of the stylus makes a faint tapping noise as she plays with it against the edge of her teeth, and the lines of her face are softened by the ashe blonde curl that's escaped from the messy bun atop her head.

Number One envies her ability to become completely lost in something to the exclusion of all else. Her own brain functions like a machine, always busy with a thousand different tasks ranked according to priority and the amount of attention necessary for completion. Only Christine can lend her that sense of single-minded focus, keeping all of the white noise in her brain at bay with a touch of those skilled hands, her generous mouth, and the intense gaze of those lovely, soft eyes.

In a moment of sudden self-awareness, she looks up and catches Number One staring at her.

"What is it?" she asks, the stylus dangling from her fingers.

One taps the screen of her PADD to bring it back to life; it had gone dormant a long time ago for want of attention.

"Nothing in particular," One responds. "It's just you."

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