“There’s easier ways to get me alone than having us locked in a small room,” Shran says, smirking as he examines the first puzzle. It’s a panel with a number of soft lights that he vaguely recognizes as a map, though he can’t place the system or the relevance to their escape.
Archer rests his chin on Shran’s shoulder for a better view of the panel. He can’t resist the opportunity to wrap his arms around Shran’s waist while he’s there. “The last time we took shore leave with no planned activities you went so stir crazy in one day that you messaged T’Pol to come rescue you. She thought we’d been kidnapped.”
Shran snickers. “And I offered my sincerest apologies to the Risa staff for the armed landing party.”
Rolling his eyes, Archer reaches out and presses a few of the lights that he recognizes as tal-muv, the Vulcan constellation that stands for a key to unlock ones inner logic. The panel beeps in the affirmative and the holographic wall shifts back to allow them to proceed. “Having you on board is more trouble than it’s worth sometimes. You’re lucky you’re so handsome.”
Shran turns his head and kisses Archer on the cheek with a smug grin. “You’re a trouble magnet with or without me, Pinkskin.”
“You got me there.”
He laces his fingers with Shran’s and just holds him for a minute. Shran closes his eyes and leans back into the embrace. “Should we get dinner if we make it out of this simulated prison in one piece?”
“Ever the optimist, Shran.” He lets him go, but Shran immediately grabs his hand again and walks close as they pass through to the next puzzle. “Dinner sounds great.”