USS Penumbra Sim Narrative, SD 202112.17
There was no "official sim" this week. Instead, the crew of the Penumbra took some time off to enjoy an end-of-the-year Winter Holiday Party (except for the Command Team, see the section in the Admiral's Office below, and Hines and Kat had their own little party, see Hines' Quarters below).
The Penumbra had returned to Earth and was safely docked in one of the several large Starbases in orbit being repaired, refit, refurbished, and resupplied. Her Command Team, however, had been summoned to Starfleet Command to meet with the most senior officer of Starfleet, Admiral Sulyk. Dressed in their Class A uniforms they strolled down a corridor approaching the Admiral's office without a word between them.
Finally, Zak turned to the Colonel and said, "You knew that Cardassian woman would be trouble, didn't you?"
Patterson didn't turn his head and didn't change his pace or say a word. He simply gave a silent nod. They continued in silence the rest of the way until they stood before the Admiral's office. Starfleet Marine Military Police guards stood to each side of the door.
The Commodore glanced at Patterson and each quickly straightened their uniform. Once ready, Patterson gestured to the Commodore, and Zak reached and pressed the chime.
Inside the office, the elderly Vulcan Admiral sat stiffly behind his desk, half scowling, as he waited for the two officers he'd summoned. When the chime rang he called out, "Come!" The voice was a bit more forceful than it truly needed to be.
The Commodore and the Colonel strode in, followed by the two Marine guards that had been standing outside. The guards stopped just inside the door as the Commodore and Colonel took a few more strides and then each assumed a Parade Rest stance a few steps from the large desk that dominated the room. Patterson announced, "Reporting as requested, sir."
The Admiral did not immediately stand. He glared up at Patterson for a moment, then finally, slowly rose to his feet, standing at the desk and glaring across at the two men. Though the older man was Vulcan and had trained for likely a century or more to control his emotions, it was obvious he was struggling to contain his frustration. He spoke, "Colonel, do you have any idea what kind of trouble you've made for me?"
At the Admiral's remark, Patterson couldn't help himself, the smart-ass slipped out. "No, sir. That's why you sit in that comfy chair while I do the dirty work."
Beside him Zak rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Just can't keep his damned mouth shut, can he?"
Sulyk shook his head, stepping around his desk towards the two men. "Always the loose cannon, aren't you, Mr. Patterson? Well, the good news is, I managed to talk the young miss Damat from insisting you be executed for attempted murder." Patterson did hold a Type 3 Disruptor to her head and threatened to vaporize her if the Breen Thot, Yurl, did not speak to them.
"Executed?" Zak asked. "Are you serious?"
Sulyk turned to the Commodore. "The Cardassian penal system is not quite as forgiving as the Federation's. And we won't even discuss the Breen."
Patterson shook his head slightly and said, "Admiral, how many people have tried to have me killed in the past? If that was her request ... tell her to join the bloody queue." They stared at each other for a brief moment.
Sulyk had spent the majority of his Starfleet career working in Starfleet Intelligence, probably in close association with the ever-so-secretive Section 31, and Patterson himself had worked with S.I. and Section 31 for a good part of his own career. While they hadn't often worked closely together, Sulyk was likely very familiar with Patterson's history.
The Colonel continued, "I stand by my actions, and the results of such provided us with vital intelligence towards our mission parameters, where there were no alternative means guaranteed to give us anything at all. Furthermore, your little Ferengi friend failed to meet his requirements, and compromised our status in the sector, and evidently tampered with secure Federation channels." He paused for a breath and then concluded, "I did what I felt was necessary when all other options were null."
Sulyk continued to scowl at the Colonel all through his explanation. Finally, he waved dismissively, turning back towards his desk. "Yes, yes, I've read the reports." He stood behind his desk again as he continued, "The mission was successful, imminently so, actually, and that has worked in your favor. But ... I am required to take some sort of disciplinary actions."
Patterson, even still the smart-ass, couldn't help but roll his eyes. "A court-martial would be easily overruled, Sulyk. You and I both know that."
"Oh, no," Sulyk agreed, "there won't be any court-martial, Mr. Patterson, we won't have anything on record."
Patterson continued, "And demotion won't get the message across, either, would it?"
Sulyk's scowl returned as he said, "But ... you will be punished, more or less." He reached for a PADD on the corner of his desk.
Patterson muttered, "That only leaves a couple of options."
Sulyk straightened, handing the PADD from his desk toward the Commodore. Zak stepped forward to take it as Sulyk said to Patterson, "You will be remanded to a Maximum-Security Prison, where you will spend the first 14 days in solitary confinement. After which you will be required to attend Anger Management courses while serving the remainder of your 30-day sentence."
Zak glanced at the PADD, then the Admiral, then the Colonel, then back to the Admiral. "Anger Management courses, Admiral? You know that's just going to make him worse!"
Patterson and Sulyk had a stare-down contest for several seconds. Strangely enough, it was Patterson whose gaze broke first. He broke from his Parade Rest stance, glancing at the Commodore, then bent and placed his palms on the desk, leaning forward. "Zak, if I didn't know better ... I think his entire goal is to piss me off!"
Sulyk allowed the tiniest of smirks to appear on his face as he said, "It might have crossed my mind."
Sulyk then gave a signal and the two guards stepped forward from their posts by the door. "Mr. Patterson," he continued, "please surrender yourself to the custody of these officers. And ... behave yourself. We might have need of you again in the future."
Zak asked, "Admiral ... what happens after the 30 days, if I may ask?"
Sulyk gave a slight shrug. "Well, that would depend on how well the Colonel behaves himself. If he doesn't do something ... stupid," he glanced back at Patterson as he said this, before returning his gaze back to the Commodore, "and add more time to his sentence, he can return to duty once the 30 days have passed. But ... we are talking about Travis Patterson, aren't we?"
Patterson gave a sigh, regaining some composure. "You know," he muttered, "I've proven you wrong about me a few times now, old man." He turned towards the MPs and said, "Now ... you two fine officers are wondering if I'm gonna do this the easy way or the hard way, hmm?"
One of the two Marines gave a slight smile. "Yes, sir. While it might be fun to try the hard way, I'd rather not wreck the Admiral's office." The three silver diamonds on his collar proclaimed him to be a Marine Major himself, a rank equivalent to a Starfleet Lieutenant Commander, a senior officer in his own right, and not someone to be trifled with.
Patterson chuckled, "You'd lose, you know."
The Major grinned at the senior Marine as he slapped cuffs on him, "Not without a fight, sir." He led the Colonel off.
Sulyk turned to Zak, "Now, Commodore, I think you and your ship should continue your investigations of the Breen and their attempts with Borg technology. Go poke around for a month or so, then you can pick up the Colonel when you give your report."
Zak straightened and nodded, "Understood, Admiral. We'll keep looking around. I'll make Cmdr. Relok XO for now. And our Sergeant Major, Hines, can hold the Marines together for a month without their commanding officer ... I think."
The Penumbra crew were having a Winter Holiday celebration in the lounge known as Seven Forward (due to its location on Deck 7 in the most forward portion of the ship). Several members of the crew had been working towards this party for quite some time getting food prepared and decorations in place.
Dr. Shadow K’Trevala (who held a LtCmdr. rank), the Tayledrian Chief Medical Officer (and unofficial "morale officer"), was finishing up his main contribution to the party: a 15 layer chocolate trifle he called "Chocolate Suicide" when Cmdr. Relok, the Vulcan Chief of Sciences, who was Shadow’s Shayana, a Tayledrian word meaning something like Oath Brother, and who was telepathically bonded several years ago with Shadow, stepped into Seven Forward wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a rather unusual manner of dress for the older Vulcan.
Behind Relok came one of the ship’s Marines, Cpl. Homer Kyle, a native of the Carolinas of North America. He was wearing the most God-awful ugly Christmas sweater one could imagine, and a wide, toothy grin. He waved and said with his country twang, "Howdy y'all!"
On the other side of the lounge, one of the Engineering Technicians, Ens. Al Thums, a native of the south-central region of Louisiana in the North American continent (who rumor had it was under some ancient Voodoo curse) was attempting to string up some Christmas lights. He’d managed to get himself so tangled in the cords he seemed almost buried in them. A feeble voice came from within the mass, "Help."
About that time, another Marine arrived, but this one was still in his duty uniform. SSgt. Will Davies was one of the elite Pathfinders and had just gone off duty, so he was cleared to attend the party. He entered from a side door near where Thums was buried in the wires. He glanced over at the Ensign and said, "I don't think that is supposed to happen, Ensign Thums."
Thums tried to disentangle himself, but somehow managed to turn on the lights. Now there were flashing and blinking bulbs all around him. "Ah! My eyes!" he cried.
Davies strolled over and leaned down towards the officer. "Would you like some help, Thums?"
Thums called back, "Who's that? Nevermind, yes, get me out of this mess!"
Davies gave a soft chuckle as he started to help. "How did this even happen?" He found the switch and turned the lights off and then started trying to untangle them.
LtCmdr. Jason Carter, the Chief of Flight Operations, arrived about that time. He was wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt and loose-fitting jeans. He strolled through the lounge without really interacting with anyone and stood staring out at Earth. He muttered to himself, "Here's hoping I get to visit home for a day or two." Carter was one of those who was born in space, aboard his father’s freighter. While both of his parents were "from Earth" and Carter considered Earth his home, he’d spent most of his life seeing the planet from orbit, much like he was now. It was THIS view, from the viewport of a ship in orbit, that was his favorite view of home.
From the kitchen area, LtCmdr. Bevin MacArdry-Tibris appeared. She was the fiery red-headed Deryni from a family with a very Scottish-like background who was the ship’s Chief Engineer (who recently married the half-Klingon, half-Romulan Chief of Operations, LtCmdr. Tabeshk Tibris). She was pushing an anti-grav hover cart loaded with several platters of roasted suckling targ, marinated in her secret prune-juice-based sauce.
As Bevin passed with the cart, Relok’s head twitched upward as he said, "What is that fabulous aroma?" He turned, following the scent, and saw Bevin. "Ah! There it is!"
Bevin smiled at him and spoke in her delightful Brogue, "Graitins, Relok, haw gaes ait?"
Over near Shadow, Kyle had finally noticed what the doctor was working on. His eyes bulged and his mouth watered. "Ain't that just ‘take the cake’?" he drawled as he grinned and helped himself to a huge slice. Shadow just chuckled at him.
Kyle happily gobbled the Chocolate Suicide. Around a mouthful of the delicious confection he mumbled, "Mph, zhish ish magnifishent!"
Shadow grinned at him. With his telepathic and empathic abilities, he probably understood what Kyle was trying to say even if others couldn’t, but ... it didn’t take any psychic abilities to detect Kyle’s delight. Shadow responded, "Glad you like it."
Kyle lifted his head, his face nearly covered in chocolate at this point. "Don't thank I's ever had such good cake, Doc! I just loves me some choc-lot!"
Around that time, the seven-foot-something half-Klingon, half-Nausicaan Marine MstSgt. Khal’Gon stomped through the doors. He wasn’t in his Marine uniform, or even the typical Klingon warrior outfit, but rather some kind of flowing robe that appeared to be a bit more ceremonial. He sniffed a moment then bellowed, "Where’s the pig?"
Relok still stood near Bevin and her cart and decided he’d better get some of the targ before Khal’Gon got to it, but as he tried to fix himself a plate, Khal’Gon barreled through the crowd, giving a low growl as he approached Relok.
Bevin saw the big man approaching and quickly headed back into the galley to bring out more dishes. She’d prepared a whopping 20 of the suckling targ dish, putting several aside for those on Gamma Shift or otherwise unable to come to the party. And, there were many other dishes she’d helped prepare as well. She didn’t want to risk running out of food!
Khal’Gon reached the targ and gave Relok a stiff shove. Relok nearly dropped his plate as Khal’Gon shoved him. "Khal'Gon, relax, there is enough for all of us. Besides, Bevin just went to get more, I'm sure."
Khal’Gon reached and grabbed a leg of one of the targ, literally just ripping it off with his bare hands. He waved it at Relok and growled, "You don't steal the first portion from a Klingon, Relok ... especially one who's been starving themselves for several days." He tore into the leg with the powerful fangs of his Klingon and Nausicaan genes.
LtCmdr. Denovan Hawke had arrived just in time to see this exchange. He was genetically human but was an ex-Borg and served as the Chief of Security and Tactical Operations for the ship. He'd decided to try wearing something at least half nice to the party and was dressed in dark jeans, with a black T-shirt under a tan over-shirt left unbuttoned. As he watched Khal'Gon rip into the targ flesh he tilted his head and said, "Okay ... don't see that every day."
Relok eyed the big half-Klingon seriously. "I don't believe you've ever starved yourself, Khal'Gon. But ... point taken. I yield the first piece to you. But make sure you leave some of that ham!"
Bevin had returned by then and she spoke to the Marine in her Brogue, "Khal-Gon, I daid a camplait yaungir sauw jist fer ye, fer laitir."
Khal'Gon turned towards Bevin and grunted and gave her a slight nod. He'd begun to understand most of what Bevin said despite her thick accent and knew she'd told him she'd done a complete younger sow just for him, for later. He swallowed a bite then said, "Then I will be sustained enough until then with a leg, and not the whole thing."
Relok quickly selected a few slices of juicy ham before Khal'Gon changed his mind, and carried them to a nearby table where he watched Thums and Davies with mild amusement.
Across the lounge, Thums almost managed to get out of the strings of lights, with Davies' help, but just as he was stepping out of the tangle, he tripped and fell into a nearby chair. He cried out in the Acadian French of his ancient heritage, "Mon Dieu!"
Davies helped to stabilize the unfortunate Cajun then said, "Maybe ... someone else should take over doing that." He glanced around the room then pointed, "Like him," he'd picked out Den.
Den saw the man pointing at him and he'd picked up some of what he'd said. "What?" he cried out.
Thums saw where Davies pointed and said, "Oh, no! He likes to blow stuff up! I ought to stay far away from him!"
Den made a face like he was going to say no, then thought about it, pursed his lips and gave a brief nod, "Yeah ... that's true."
"How about this," Davies tried, "Help me untangle them then I'll do the putting up and you just feed the line to me."
Thums finally managed to extricate himself from the lights, and the chair, and got to his feet. "I think Mr. Khal'Gon might leave a little targ for us. Want to get some, Sergeant?"
"Or," Davies smiled, "We could do that before it's all eaten." He dropped the tangled mess of wires and lights and started across the lounge with Thums.
Kyle almost finished his Chocolate Suicide, his eyes rolling back in his head as he sat back, holding his belly. "I's hankerin fer another hunk, but ... don't know if'n I can hold it!"
Shadow chuckled. "That piece was probably about 5000 calories on its own!"
"Aw, heck, Doc," Kyle drawled, "That's just a pinch more'n I usually eat in a day, ennyhoo!" He grinned at the doctor, both of them knowing he was exaggerating. "But, maybe I's oughta get sumpin more nutritious or sumpin, huh?" He moved towards the many other dishes Bevin had brought out, various vegetables, salad makings, and other meats besides targ.
After a few minutes, Den glanced around, thinking the party had "gone cold" or something. He asked, "Where is everyone? Isn't this supposed to be a celebration?"
Relok waved at him and said, "Some of us are quietly eating, Den."
Kyle groaned and wiped chocolate off his face. He looked over at Den and said, "I's dang near in a choc-lot induced coma. Y'all's gotta try Doc's cake!"
Thums stepped up behind Den, near the targ, and said, "I was just waiting for the Klingon to move off."
"That would be an answer," Den shrugged and shook his head.
Khal'Gon still stood over the targ like he was guarding it, the half-eaten leg in one hand. He growled at Thums, "Wanna say that a bit louder, petaQ?!"
Thums knees wobbled and he nearly collapsed. He stammered, "I was just ... I mean ... you were ... I ...," he trailed off.
Den clapped the Ensign on a shoulder, "Don't let him intimidate you, Ensign."
Relok addressed the trembling Ensign, "Relax, Ensign, he won't eat you ... I think." He turned to Khal'Gon and asked, "You don't eat officers, do you, Khal'Gon?"
Den started to say, "That's not what ...," then he stopped himself realizing Relok might have just been making a joke. Sometimes the Vulcan Chief of Science's jokes required a bit of thinking.
Khal'Gon grinned at Den, then slapped Thums across the back. "Eat," he said. "With how often you hurt yourself? You could use a bit of fat for cushioning." He stomped off with his targ leg.
Den considered that as well, then said, "I think Thums needs it more for the iron."
As the big Marine slapped his back, Thums stumbled forward, falling into the cart with the targ on it! It wobbled, dropping a plate or two, but Thums managed to grab the platter with the targ on it. "Whew!" he exclaimed, "Nearly dropped the pig!"
Khal'Gon laughed a big belly laugh. "Ah, his heart's in the right place ... it's his feet that can't figure out where they wanna go!"
Den stepped up beside Khal'Gon. "Okay, just for you, Master Sergeant." He moved back to the targ cart and picked up a plate, to be a little polite, then grabbed the targ with his bare hands and ripped off a few choice parts, just the ones he wanted to eat. He plopped the meat onto the plate, then grabbed chunks and shoved it into his mouth like it was gagh, the Klingon worm-like meal.
Khal'Gon gave an approving smile. "You're learning," he said.
Den chewed, then swallowed and said, "Not playing drunken headbutt challenge with you though. That and we've no bloodwine anyway."
Shadow sidled up to Khal'Gon and whispered, "Khal'Gon, I think you need to check your quarters." The doctor had just sent a barrel of bloodwine to the half-Klingon's quarters, and with his empathic projection, he conveyed that image to the Marine's mind.
Thums watched Den eating like a Klingon. He gulped, then said, "Um ... I can still use a knife and fork, right?" He reached for a fork, but three of them dropped to the floor in the process. "Oops, they were all stuck together!"
"Or," Den said, watching Thums' efforts, "you could not, and start working up a rapport with the Sergeant, here."
Thums glanced nervously at the half-Klingon towering over him. "Um ... well, I could, maybe." He tried by shoving a tiny piece of targ in his mouth and started chewing, but he swallowed a bit too soon and started choking! Khal'Gon gave him another slap on the back and the offending chunk flew out and onto the floor.
Across the lounge, the door slid open once again and the wrinkled face of the aged Ferengi, Galex, appeared. He grumbled, "Free admission? What kind of party is this?"
Bevin had been searching the attendees for someone in particular, holding a rather large box in her hands. She grinned when she saw Galex and strode purposefully over, handing him the box.
Galex took it, scowling. "What's it cost?" he asked as he shook the box and listened carefully with his enormous ears. Shaking it caused it to begin humming and ... vibrating.
Relok noticed Bevin heading for Galex with a big smile on her face. ~Oh, no,~ he thought to himself, ~Bevin is going to prank the Ferengi and he will NOT like it!~ Quickly, he hurried across the lounge to attempt to intervene.
Bevin continued smiling at the Ferengi as she said in her Brogue, "Luikin thraw yer shaip's ainjins fer a few days."
Galex frowned, squinting at Bevin. With those huge ears he could hear her quite well, and managed to figure out that she'd said she wanted to look through his ship's engines for a few days. "You won't change anything?" he asked, "Just looking?"
"Nae wi'aut yer pairmaisshun, luikin anly," she promised.
Satisfied that she wouldn't do anything without his permission, besides just looking, Galex grinned and shoved out a hand. "Deal!" Bevin clasped the outstretched hand in the time-honored method of closing a deal.
Relok stopped his rush to intervene and gave a sigh when Galex and Bevin "struck a deal". He mumbled, "Crisis averted."
Unbeknownst to anyone but Bevin, inside the gift box was a pair of fur-lined bunny-ear earmuffs ... that vibrated when turned on. Bevin figured Galex might think it would be like walking around getting oo-mox for free (oo-mox was a kind of Ferengi sexual foreplay involving stroking the sensitive ear lobes). And that he'd somehow figure out the pattern and turn them into a profit.
SgtMaj. Derek Hines was still in his quarters, recuperating after the severe shock given to him by the Breen Officer's biosuit booby-trap.
LtCmdr. Dr. Katarina Hawke had dressed for the party in Seven Forward, in just a plain blue skirt with a beige T-shirt. But, she figured she'd stop by and check on her patient, to see if he was up to going to a party. Of course, checking on him might have just been an excuse to get out of going to such a party. She stepped up to the door and rang the doorbell chime.
"Just a minute!" Hines called from inside, quickly pulling a tank-top on over the sweatpants he was wearing. Once "decent", he called out, "Enter." As Kat stepped through the door he smiled, "Sorry for the delay."
"What delay?" she asked, then looking at his extremely casual attire she added, "You don't look like you're ready for a party." Secretly, she was kind of thankful for that. She still wasn't used to big groups of individuals. Most of the time she felt as if the walls were closing in on her when around too many people.
Hines gave a shrug and said, "Probably best I don't attend where there may be alcohol present. Don't want to put my health at any unnecessary risks during recovery."
Kat smirked at him, a somewhat mischievous expression on her face. "No, we wouldn't want you to do anything to put your health at unnecessary risk." She shrugged. "I'm not exactly fond of big crowds anyways."
Hines gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Nah. I deal with enough Marines where some quiet time alone is more than welcome."
"Hmm, is that so?" Kat asked, then looked him over thoughtfully, a slight twinkle in her eyes. "So, should I leave?"
Hines shook his head. "Nah, you're welcome to stay if you'd like. I just took a shower and was trying to figure out what I should do next with my downtime."
"Hmm," Kat mused. "How about something to eat?" She pulled a small picnic basket from behind her back where she'd been hiding it and holding it up. Kat actually couldn't remember the last time she'd been on a picnic, so she had to look up what one usually had during one in order to put in the basket.
Hines laughed softly, stepping forward to take the basket. "Sounds like a good idea, but ... this is hardly the right environment, I'd say." He gestured around his quarters. "Then again," he decided, "it's more discrete?"
Kat smiled as Hines laughed. "True, but ... we could go somewhere else if you like ... or stay here, it's up to you. Here means that we don't have to go too far and risk possibly running into someone who'll drag us to that party."
Hines gave Kat a once-over then smirked. "Or, question why you came so elegantly dressed to my personal quarters once again. People might think we were dating or somethin'."
Kat couldn't help but blush slightly at that, unsure if it was a compliment or just a statement. "I'm not really concerned with what others might think," she admitted with honesty. Then she said, "Should we eat, or do you want to do something else first?"
Hines sat the basket down, then stepped up and wrapped his arms around Kat's waist. "I'm open to ideas," he murmured.
A tiny gasp escaped her when he pulled her into that hug. Honestly, Kat still wasn't used to affectionate touches. "Um, we ..." she stammered slightly then suggested, "Well, we could watch a movie!"
Kat was a bit nervous. Hines was a big guy, six-foot-six and heavily muscled, and like Patterson, he made her stomach do flip-flops whenever he was too close. Mostly, because Hines knew what he wanted and didn't hesitate. But, when he'd wrapped his arms around her in that hug, Kat instinctively threw her arms around his neck. It wasn't the first time she'd been held like that and she wasn't blind to the fact he might be interested in her, after all, he'd kissed her before.
Hines gave an almost imperceptible nod as her arms encircled him too. He kissed her forehead gently then said, "Thanks for coming to see me, and bringing me some food." He released her and stepped back a step. "Hmm ... what sort of movie should we watch, then?" He waved towards the large armoire.
Kat rolled her eyes at the kiss on the forehead. ~Really?~ she thought. ~After laying one on me that curled my toes the last time I checked on him? Ok, that's cool.~ She reached into a pocket in her skirt where she'd put a few data chips and said, "I found a couple of 21st century movies, there's It, um ... hmm, I think this one had said Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and this one just said Disney for some reason."
A chuckle escaped Hines as he listened to her list off the various names. "Disney, huh? There's been a lotta records from that I've heard of. Might be worth a bit of review." He noticed she seemed flustered and with a grin asked, "Something bothering you?"
"Hmm?" she asked, "what do you mean? I don't think anything's bothering me. Though, I am curious why does my forehead get the only attention?"
He chuckled again as he stepped back up and physically lifted her off her feet to carry her to the armoire. "Because you didn't ask for anything more," he explained, "however, if you're so insistent ... I might just have to oblige!"
Kat blushed again. It wasn't as if she was against affection. Her arms wrapped around his large shoulders as he carried her. "I'll have you know; I happen to like kissing you." She smiled at him.
"If that's true," he said seating himself on the cushioned seat with her in his lap, "why haven't you taken another taste yet?"
Kat smirked as she settled comfortably on his lap, then leaned forward and nibbled on his lower lip. "Affection is still new to me, Derek," she purred before settling her lips over his.
"Ah, ah!" Hines said drawing back slightly, "Say the magic words!"
"Oh, shut up and kiss me, damnit!"
"Yes, ma'am!" he laughed just before he covered her mouth with his. With one hand he slid the dimmer switch on the lights.