Must be something in the air because . . . .

Scott sips his milk, than places the glass on the table. He pinches the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, and sighs as his headache lessens a little bit. He then nearly slaps his forehead as he remembers just WHY the Voyager is going through these funky maneuvers. He stops himself, thinking at the pain that would cause himself, and instead just laughs ruefully to himself.

"What's so funny, Honey?" a familiar voice says behind Scott. Scott turns, and smiles when he sees his wife smiling down at him.

"Oh, nothing much, Sam." Scott chuckled as his wife pecked his cheek and sat down across from him. "You remember some of those old time late twentieth century movie series, Star Wars? The Parises and we saw them, and both Parises were really taken by Han Solo's piloting style. I seem to remember something about a shakedown of the piloting controls had been scheduled today . . . . "

"And human Paris is doing some Han Solo maneuvers." furry Samantha chuckles. "Since you seem to be feeling better, I guess you'll be happy to hear what I have to say about some romantic developements."

"You haven't been playing Cupid or anything?" Scott asks in a half joking voice. The last counseling session with human had been okay, but a bit dicey. He'd rather NOT have another run in like that, if he could avoid it.

"No, I haven't." Samantha says. "But seems like something is in the air, because a pair of weddings, and another set of couples have finally started to go on a few dates!

"The Parises and the Torreses are going to have a wedding in two weeks." she continues, smiling a winning (and very sharp toothed) smile. "It's going to be a 'double header' as you'd say! Also, the Captains and the Chakotays are finally dating each other openly!"

"Now THAT IS good news!" Scott says in wonder. Samantha replicates something to drink, and raises her glass in a toast.

"To the new relationships!" she said. "May they work well, and last for a lifetime!"

Scott clanks his glass of milk against his wife's glass, and the drink to the toast . . . .

1. And life goes on in the Voyager.

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