//Smile. Damned tight collar. Damned reception line. //
“Please to meet you.” //Shake hands don’t flinch. Gorn hands hard as horn. //
“Glad y’all could make it.” //Bow; just enough to show deference. Tellarites are sticklers for protocol. My feet are killing me! Smile. //
//The Argelian ambassador and her husband. / “A drink? Maybe later. ” //I’m parched. Later, Len, yeah, later.
//Look who just rolled in, the ambassador from Terra IV. Is she wearing her suite’s curtains? // “You look lovely. Is that new?” //Kiss hand. Smile. //
Spock shoots me an eyebrow.
//Ah, the life of a diplomat’s spouse.//
FIN
No comments:
Post a Comment