“what am i supposed to say to that?”
Pavel opens his mouth, closes it again, and shoots a worried glance in the direction of Sulu, who’s determinedly not looking back at him. The question feels like a trap, and the young navigator mentally reviews his own words to find some accidental source of offense.
“— ‘yes’?” he hazards, voice rising with uncertainty. “I mean, you do not need to come if you think you will not enjoy it. I only thought it would be nice if we all attended…” he trails off, and offers a sheepish grin and shrug. His wide byzantine eyes, framed by dark lashes, are made for moments like this; contrite and confused innocence practically gleaming in them.










