"Who loved me. And gave me names, one each." She squeezes back.

"I like your names," he says, and he picks up her hand and kisses it.

She smiles. "I do too. I default to Isabella, but among Vulcans or anyone who might be more cooperative in some way if I present Vulcan, I go by T'Mir."

He smiles back, nuzzles his cheek against her hand for a moment, and then kisses it again.

She smiles and squirms just a little. These chairs don't roll, but they do swivel; she turns hers towards him.

Lalita gets up out of his, and stands in front of her, and leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

Ooh, kisses. There should be more kisses. Isabella crosses her wrists behind his neck and increments kisses.

Kisses! He approves of kisses. Mmmmmmmmm.

Good! The exercise would be purposeless if he did not approve. Kisses.

Leaning over her chair makes kissing somewhat awkward. He kneels on the floor in front of her instead, which improves the logistics only slightly but serves as a pleasing reminder of some recent activities.

Recent activities were indeed pleasing. Kisses where she isn't being eaten alive by the need for such activities: pleasing in a different way.

Kisses and snuggling.

Kisses and snuggling... and sex?

Maybe a little. Isabella is a lot shyer when she has the luxury to be, but apart from turning visibly green and sometimes breaking eye contact and being much slower and more tentative about the whole thing - well, they're the same pair of people.

Lalita is very snuggly and affectionate and fond of her blushes. He likes to kiss them when they appear.

Awww. This creates a feedback loop. And giggling, it also creates giggling.

Giggling creates more giggling! Also cuddles. It creates some of those.

Giggly cuddles it is, then.

"Well, you can if you want," he says. "I have a good fifteen years left on this one. You'll just have to quietly drop or rename me at some point."

"Should you be crew or passenger?"