“She hates me.” Matthys sighed as he sipped on his saurian brandy. He was seated on a sofa chair, his legs folded up on the chair and pulled into his body. His left arm extended in front of his legs, and he carefully cradled his drink. He has been unwinding with his friend Naomi Cross in her quarters, sharing some beverages. Her husband, Owen, was still on shift at present. 

“I highly doubt she hates you, Matthys.” Naomi placed a single pretzel in her mouth and crunched down, a satisfied look on her face. 

“How come I keep getting the worst scheduled shifts then?” Matthys retorted. 

“Maybe because you’re an Ensign, and that is just how it works?” Naomi laughed and shook her head as she sipped her own glass of brandy. “You young Ensigns. Think you should have the best shifts right from the get-go? Before that happens, you’ll need another half pip on you, my dear.” 

Matthys rolled his eyes and groaned. “You don’t get it. Your senior staff officer is Velesa, for goodness sake. She is so nice.” 

“Oh no you don’t, Matthys!” Naomi waved her finger and took another pretzel. “Carrillion is a fair leader and is quite nice herself too. I’ve never heard of anyone not getting along with her. Well. Those that show up to their shifts on time and don’t do everything they can to get out of doing work, that is.”

Matthys gasped dramatically. “Me? Not on time. How dare you.”

“Seriously, though. I thought you got some credit with her after that ‘close friend’ of yours Bollwyn voluntold you for that disaster of an away mission you went on.”

“I thought so, too. After that, she laid off me for a little while at least…” 

“Until you were late again to some shifts?” Naomi asked while giving Matthys a questioning look. 

“Fine. Yes. I may have gotten into the habit of showing up late again for the occasional shift. I can’t help it – I don’t like being anywhere, not on my own terms, Naomi!” Matthys whined and took another sip of his brandy.

Naomi shook her head again in disbelief. She adored her younger friend Matthys but knew just as well as him that perhaps this life was not for him. He had opened up to her about his home life and how terrible his parents were to him, as well as the pressures he had to join the fleet and become a physician. She had a special place in her heart for Matthys. 

“All that aside. Owen and I still have yet to meet this famous Bollywyn. What’s up with that? Have you told him you like him yet?” Naomi asked bluntly, not holding back. 

Matthys started coughing mid-sip of his brandy, and some of it spit up in front of him. He emerged from his tucked leg hold and continued coughing for a moment. “Like… What?” He managed to get this out before clearing his throat and continuing, “I don’t like anyone that way. Ever. Never. No.”

“Matthys. You never stop going on about him. Bollwyn this. Samwell this.” Naomi started waving her hands in the air again. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you have feelings for him, Matthys. It’s okay.” 

Matthys shook his head. His posture and body language tightened and strained a bit. What he loved about his friendship with Bollwyn was just how little he had to think about it. He actively did not overanalyze the situation. He valued the time they spent together and cherished the fact that he had connected with someone else on Columbia besides Naomi and Owen.

“I…. It’s not like that…” Matthys stated quite unconvincingly – not even sure of it himself now. 

As if the universe interjected in its magical way, the doors of Naomi’s quarters swished open, and her husband, Owen burst through excitedly and at a slightly manic pace. “Did you hear the news yet?!” He immediately rushed over to Naomi and gave her a passionate kiss. 

“Get off me. You’re filthy!” She pushed her engineer husband off and gestured to Matthys. 

“Mattie!” Owen rushed over and ruffled his hair playfully before he embraced him in a friendly side hug and quick peck on the forehead.

“We’ve encountered a bunch of ships from the Delta Quadrant. We’re supporting their arrival to the Alpha Quadrant…” Owen couldn’t even finish before Matthys jolted up, put on his fuzzy lime-green slippers, and made a break for the door. 

“Matthys?” Naomi asked, a bit alarmed at the sudden movement. 

“I’ve got to go…. Before Bollwyn volunteers me for some sort of damned away mission again… Thanks for the drink!” And with that, Matthys bolted from the Owen’s quarters with haste.