stillplaying | Appointment Post!

The morning had been... interesting. Not only had his sweat pants been gone, but all his pants had in fact been gone from all the drawers, replaced with skirts of a scandalous size. Initially thinking Bones had done this (because haha, like Spock would have done it or even thought of it ), he went to grab pants from each of them... only to find he couldn't even pick them up. And even with help, the pants wouldn't so much as let him put a toe through, much less his leg.

Whatever was going on, it was magical or Malnosso. He guessed some of both and whoever it was, was going to pay.

For now, he wiggled into one of the mini-skirts left to him in his drawers and made himself at home in his bed, skirt covered. At least Spock and Bones got their wish - he would stay in bed while they were away, which did nothing for Kirk's increasing sense of boredom...

She had knocked on the door briefly before finding it open. It had become something of a semi-regular thing. To check on Jim every few days or so since his return. He had housemates who could take care of him. He didn't need her, not like he might have during the shift. But she couldn't help it. Regardless, he had become her friend. A good friend.

Someone she wanted to help regardless.

"Jim? It's Katniss," she calls out as she carefully walks into the house, looking a little apprehensive and a lot bit curious. "I brought you some stew."

"I'm in my room!" he called to her, putting aside the book he had been perusing. It was a novel, but he thought he might need to make a trek (or send out Bones or Spock) to the library soon and trade it out for something more scientific. He wobbled between his likes a lot. God, did that make him moody? He hoped not.

He sniffed, already smelling the stew and his stomach growled in delight. Katniss made good stew, and he liked when she stopped in. He didn't bother denying the friendship they shared, started with an arrow being pointed at him, and possibly cemented via the fact they had been... intimate. Not that that bothered him. It was more the circumstances that did, but what was the point of digging into it?

"Did you bring spoons too?"

She follows the voice to his room, remembering the steps she had taken to get there before. This wasn’t the dwelling they had shared during the hijacking and for that, Katniss is grateful. But here and there, she sees things that reminds her of that apartment. Of what they had. Of what a part of her still misses.

They’re thoughts she shoves away when she enters his room and smiles, noting the book by his side on the bed. He’s looking better, a lot better since that day he returned. She’s grateful for that. More than she’d ever care to admit aloud. People might not die here in Luceti, but the penalties earned for that were harsh. She’d learned that one twice now.

“I didn’t,” she answers as she sets the pot on the bedside table and brushes her fingers over his cheek in greeting. “I figured you had spoons here.”

He reached up, touching the fingers on his cheek. The gesture was intimate, even for him, but Katniss was... she was special. He wasn't sure he would tolerate something like that from anyone else except Spock, and that said something. And it made him happy she thought well enough of him still to do that, despite the sometimes awkward reminders of their false relationship.

"We do, I had hoped you'd stop in the kitchen and get them," he huffed, rolling his eyes good naturedly. "But no matter! I know right where they are - Spock and his stupid system at work."

And thus, he tossed back the covers from his legs... revealing that he wore not pants or even boxers, but a mini-skirt. Yes, a mini-skirt, black and pleated and showing off a portion of leg and thigh that normally no man would want to show off. But he didn't have a choice, did he? So he swung himself out of the bed, shivering as his feet met the floor and smoothed out his garment, doing his best not to display a single hint of shame.

"I'll be right back," he informed Katniss and strode from the room, skirt swishing as much as a mini-skirt could.

He barely gave her a chance to respond before he left the room; Katniss still standing there somewhat agog. She had been all ready to retrieve the spoons herself. By now, she had been here enough times to know where the kitchen was. She could probably fetch them with his instructions.

But instead, he decided to get the spoons himself. Forget the fact that he probably shouldn't have been out of bed yet... what was he wearing?

That, more than anything, left her speechless. The amount of skin showing - skin that she suddenly very vividly remembered. And the skirt.

What was he thinking?

He was thinking that he could not get his legs into a pair of pants even if he wanted to. And he did. He really did. But he couldn't, so there was no point in being upset about it, was there? He just made the best of it, and whatever anyone else might think, he knew he had great legs.

"Here we go!" he chirped cheerily as he came back into the room, the pleated skirt swishing about his hips merrily. He held out one of the spoons to her, not commenting on the fact he was wearing a skirt at all, acting like it was totally normal.

"What kind of soup is it?" he asked, sniffing.

He had very great legs. And that was part of the problem. Because Jim was her friend and despite what the Malnosso once did, she knew it was wrong to think of him in any other way. It wasn't like that between them. Even if, sometimes, on her loneliest days, she almost wished it was.

But now wasn't that time. Right? Because all she could do was gawk, continue to stare as he returned to the room as if nothing was amiss.

How could he keep acting as if this was normal? "...Jim?"

"Yes?" He said slowly, he like he expected her to do something untoward any moment. He waggled the spoon at her, raising his brows, because holding a spoon out made him feel vaguely ridiculous.

He looked down at himself, as if only now realizing that he was, indeed, in a skirt of questionable length.

"Oh, you mean the skirt," he said, as if it only just occurred to him. "That. Well, let's just say pants are proving problematic this morning."

That still doesn't make any sense to her. What does he mean by that? That pants are proving problematic? She's never heard anything like that before. Even in a place where she's experienced more unusual happenings than anywhere else, this is perhaps the oddest response she's ever heard.

Her brow furrows. At the very least, she's not blushing anymore. For now.

"Why?"

"Why am I having trouble with pants? Well, this is only a guess, but I'm guessing magic and considering there is only one person I know who would use magic that way here - it's Loki. So Loki's pulling a prank because he's an ass," he waved his spoon idly and sat, motioning for the pot of a soup with a lick of his lips.

Really, it was all perfectly reasonable wasn't it? Besides, it was just a miniskirt.

She wasn't sure if the situation was improved or not when Jim sat on the bed. She remembered the way those legs looked on a bed with much less covering his body. It made her uncomfortable. And she tried to look everywhere but at him when she placed the pot on his bedside table.

"That seems like a waste of magic."

"Maybe, but when you think about it, what else are you going to use magic for around here?" he asked, happily digging into the soup with sounds of pleasure. He did love Katniss' cooking, especially when she used fresh caught meat. It was a real talent of hers, in his opinion.

He noticed, finally, that she having a hard time looking at him and laughed a bit.

"Sorry, let me get back under the covers."

Appointment Post!

Dec. 11 - The beginning of the Prankening

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