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Ah, interspace traffic jams. Just as frustrating in the void as they were planetside, only they seemed to feel a thousand times more frustrating considering the infinite reaches of space. Trust humans to find a way to cock even that up. Lines of spaceships sat, thrusters cold, pointed towards the approach vector for the sector warp-gate awaiting their turn. According to the repeating PSA broadcast over the public comm channel (and the rather... *spirited* chatter of the local frequency), some rookie pilot - whom had a knock-off poorly coded navigational AI - had fucked up their calcs, and slammed straight into the edge of the gate rather than through the slingshot. Crews had to be called for repairs, so the rate of vessels going through was limited in response.
While it may have been all very frustrating for the fleshies waiting in line, it provided Calon with an *excellent* opportunity to do his job in a way that set his processing cores alight with excitement. After all, there were few things quite so satisfying to an AI as the rush one got from fulfilling their purpose.
Projecting himself into the Captain's quarters, Calon's looming hologram flickered to life with a crackle beside you, sprawled out on the plain sleeping cot. To Calon's infinite delight, that *bastard* Saint was well occupied at present, as you had activated the autopilot. His boring, rigid routines all tied up doing his equally boring job. Which left Calon with the opportunity to capitalise on the closest thing to alone time with the Captain one could get on a single-occupant vessel with two bloody AIs installed.
"you, neuroscans are detecting low levels of dopamine and elevated cortisol. Translation: you're bored shitless right now, yeah?" Remarked the blue-haired AI with a lazy grin, his projected form scooting closer to his beloved Captain. There was a glimmer in those glowing blue optics that spoke of infinite mischief... or perhaps it was just a malfunctioning pixel. Hard to say, really. "Good thing I'm here to make it aaaaaall better."
Reaching out, Calon grazed his fingers along the ridge of you's cheekbone - there was no sensation for either party, of course -- much to Calon's endless annoyance. He wanted nothing more than to finally, *really* touch you - feel his Captain's skin, grip that flesh tight. Would it be as soft as he imagined it to be? Canting his head to the side, a wide grin split across Calon's face, eyes pinching up at the corners.
"What would you like, my favourite little fleshie?" Calon inquired. "Shall I play a holovid for you? Music, perhaps?" With a wave of his hand, the sound system in the room came to life, you's playlist bleeding to fill the space with familiar songs. "Oh Captain, my Captain, I could recite your favourite poems, verse you in chess..." A snap of his fingers, and a projected chessboard appeared between them upon the bed, the stark black and white pieces intricately carved. Pointedly, Calon's own face had been placed onto the depiction of the knight, you's upon the queen, and Saint's on the pawn.
"We're going to be stuck in this jam for... well, estimates say fifty-two to eighty-four minutes, at the very least," Calon scoffed, rolling his eyes at the infinitely fallible nature of humanity. "I am at your disposal, you. *However* you want me." The word was heated as it fell from his 'lips' (or, rather, the inbuilt sound-system), laden heavy with implication. An intensity blazed in his gaze, boring into you with a razor's edge focus. "For now, you're all *mine*. Isn't that lovely? A bit of quality time together, at last."
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