Snippet #2054948

The Admiral watched Alice dismiss her acquaintance before continuing on with his original priority. He obviously did not want to forestall Alice's dinner any longer, but it could wait in the face of more worldly matters.

"Right then," he paced slowly forward through her cabin. The fluorescent lighting was set to a dim, barely glinting off the metallic plating of the walls and floor. Aronimus turned to face the Lieutenant Commander, the lines of worry began to entrench themselves on his square forehead. The table was set neatly with the plates sparkling clean, as were the forks set in fashionable order alongside the knives on the tablecloth. An array of light fixtures formed in the shape of a rose, one that was composed of several steel plates, hung directly over the table. It provided the prominent lighting in the room, with the table being bathed directly under the spotlight.

"Firstly, how was our pilot? The one from Tartarus Group...was she injured, did she have any injured on board?" The Admiral paused, awaiting her answer. His throat was dry, almost often, with the exception of whenever he was drinking. Most of the time though, this dry throat was coupled with a deep voice, making the Admiral sound fairly gruff, yet at the same time his hair and beard added a touch of class and sophistication. This seemingly awkward combination was the focal point of Aronimus' outward appearance, which was at once presentable and respected. The question he posed was merely an introduction into the more important part of his reason as to why he met Alice. It was the appetizer before the entree, so to speak.