Wes awkwardly pushed the door open, hands full with a large box, and shuffled through. He bumped the door closed with a hip, and then dropped the box unceremoniously on the floor. "Sure, make me walk halfway across the city with the heaviest box. Now I'm REALLY going to take it easy for a while."

Wedge leaned in the open door of the refresher and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and how many young females got to see you showing off along the way?"

Wes flexed a well-defined bicep. "A few; though I couldn't stop to talk, on such an important mission. Maybe later I'll go back out and see if I can hook up with any of them for the evening." He grinned smugly.

Tycho snapped a dish-towel at him from the other side of the kitchenette. "Think again. You're on cleaning-duty, muscle-boy." Tycho tossed the towel at him, and Wes snatched it out of the air and scowled.

"Why do I keep getting the rookie-jobs? 'Wes, go fetch the box. Wes, clean the kitchen.' How come Tycho gets to play with his toys, and I have to scrub?"

"Cause I thought of the toys, that's why. If you had any idea how to set up a surprise for a delightful young lady like our chronicler, you'd be the one decorating and I might be scrubbing floors."

Wes grinned again, knowingly. "I've delighted a lot of young ladies, but I'm afraid you'd all have to make yourselves scarce for me to go to work."

Wedge rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the refresher. Tycho shook his head. "Dream on. And before you feel too put upon, Wedge is working in the 'fresher. If your commanding officer isn't above scrubbing floors and washing countertops, I don't want to hear any complaining from you."

"I don't wanna hear any complaining from you," Wes grumbled in a whiny, sing-song voice as he set to work on the kitchen floor. Tycho just smiled charmingly, hefting his box off the floor and moving it into the living area to start his own project.