Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Thirty One

“That’s a lot of people,” Mark muttered as he pulled at his rather uncomfortable outfit.

He’d once sworn to himself that he’d never wear the formal clothes he’d worn to last month’s party again.

And yet he’d made a liar of himself, because here he was. Dressed to the nines – like some kind of BDSM gigolo.

All because Tenir and Kalia had asked.

Nicely.

Saria might have too, but she’d spent much of the morning getting the mech ready for transport and alternating between congratulating a blushing Kalia on getting laid and bitching about being left out of the fun.

Mark sighed as he stared out at the crowds.

He liked to think he didn’t scare too easily. He’d lost his parents at a young age. He’d grown up in the chaos that followed Earth’s first encounter with another species and subsequent subjugation. He’d lived his entire adult life until a few months ago in a city under occupation – and for a decent chunk of that time he’d also been an informant ‘fighting’ against said occupation.

And yet, he couldn’t help the… surge of trepidation that shot up through his spine as he stared out at the massive crowd of journalists crowding the steps leading up to the Krenheim arena.

And it was the Krenheim arena.

Krenheim had a great many arenas, but there was only one that went by that particular name.

A massive towering thing that could easily have fit three football stadiums inside it with room to spare. And yet somehow every inch of the massive structure had  managed to be emblazoned with advertisements of various kinds.

As well as a massive screen depicting Kalia and her opponent, their gazes locked as both fire and ice flared behind them.

Belatedly, Mark realized that this was his first time actually looking at Kalia’s rival for the Krenheim Cup – and the legendary status that accompanied it.

She was a Senthe, the snake woman’s pitch black scales contrasting nicely with her yellow piloting suit. He also supposed she was rather attractive - if in a slightly more ‘muscle mommy’ variety than he personally preferred.

…That was about all he could say on the subject.

Belatedly, he dragged his gaze back to the thronging crowd who ringed the streets leading up to the pilot’s entrance. The carpet leading up to the entrance was white, rather than red, which he found somewhat interesting. And so completely without blemishes that he was now a little worried about the state of his shoes.

“They’re reporters,” Jelara sniffed as she gazed out at the many eagerly awaiting faces through the thankfully tinted windows of their rented car.

He craned his head to look at the Ulnus, who was currently clad in a rather non-descript grey piloting suit. Or at least, that’s what she said it was. Truth be told, he couldn’t really tell the difference between it and the suits she normally wore given that they were generally, by necessity, made of a synthetic form fitting material.

“And?” he asked.

She gurgled. “They aren’t people.”

He snorted at that, as did Kalia from the other end of the rather spacious limousine they’d rented for the trip. Saria had arrived hours ago with an equally rented – and almost equally expensive – transport truck. ‘Sunrise’ as Jelara had dubbed her machine, needed to undergo a number of safety and compliance checks prior to the match after all.

Tenir hadn’t snorted, her ‘business face’ on in full as she regarded Mark. “Relax, Mark. Most of the attention will be on Kalia when we step out. A few questions might be fired your way, but just ignore them and walk into the building.” Her eyes shifted to Jelara. “That goes for you too. This entire situation is delicate.”

Rather than scoff or snark at the advice as he might have expected, Jelara just gave the Nighkru a slightly hesitant nod. And the motion of it was stiff enough for a being without bones that Mark realized that he probably wasn’t the only suffering from a bit of stage fright here.

Though she was doing her best to hide it.

Huh, is that why her visor is reflective and she doesn’t have the normal ‘openings’ in this suit? he thought in realization.

Normally an Ulnus’ hue was the best indicator an outside observer could get into their emotional state, but Jelara’s current outfit had her hidden from head to toe.

With that said, of course she’s nervous! Her whole life’s on the line here!

Feeling like a bit of an idiot for getting so caught up in his own head, he ignored whatever he might have been feeling and reached over, sliding his hand delicately over the Ulnus’. A motion that made her stiffen slightly - but she didn’t shrug him off.

Though he liked to think a slight hint of pink was currently tinging his girlfriends form as her reflective visor turned towards him, before shooting away.

Smirking, he turned to Kalia. “So, are we ready to step out?”

The limo had rolled to stop nearly thirty seconds ago now, and if they delayed any longer, people were going to start asking questions.

Or at least, more questions…

Kalia nodded, saying nothing as she reached for the door and stepped out. The cacophony that slipped through the opening the moment she did was incredible, but Mark did his best to ignore it as Tenir followed immediately after her employer.

Then it was Jelara’s turn – and he definitely didn’t imagine the uptick in noise as she emerged into view. Though as he stepped out himself, that uptick seemed minor in comparison to the amount of noise and questions he elicited as his feet hit the carpet.

The only upside to the whole thing was that he wasn’t being blinded by camera flashes as he followed the other three. ‘Modern’ technology was sufficient to make such a ‘primitive’ means of lighting a scene downright detrimental to the fidelity of a given shot. Even with that in mind though, the intensity of those many, many, lenses on him made the hairs on his neck stand up.

Ahead of him, Kalia strode forward with confidence, even as a deluge of questions fired out from the thronged masses being held at bay by arena security. “Kalia! Kalia! Is it true you’ve cut ties with the Vorn Corporation?”

Kalia didn’t even slow her pace, but she did turn towards whoever had just asked that question and with the most disdainful cocking of her head to the side, gestured to her piloting outfit.

A piloting outfit that was utterly bereft of corporate logos of any kind. The most glaring absence of which occurred on her chest, where the Vorn logo had once stood proudly.

“While my cooperation with the Vorn Corporation was both long and fruitful, given the choice between continuing that cooperation or being here tonight, I chose the latter,” she said, her voice managing to cut through the noise with the ease of one well used to public speaking.

That naturally prompted an instant outpouring of more questions as the once heiress casually threw mud on the face of the company that bore her name. Some rather pointed questions would definitely be being pointed the Vorn Corporation’s way from the public at large in the coming days.

Krenheim might have been a corrupt dystopian shithole – but one that took the authenticity its mecha fights seriously. Accusations of match fixing at this level could do more to damage a corporation here than any amount of sapient rights violations or corporate espionage.

And keeping a pilot from competing in the finals by withdrawing support was most definitely considered match fixing in the eyes of the public.

“With that being the case, will you even be able to compete tonight? Is your machine not corporate property?” Another figure called out.

Kalia just smiled. “I would hardly be here if I could not. No, rest assured, I have done everything necessary to ensure that my opponent will have a fight on her hands tonight. And a good thing too, because I doubt many fans would be too pleased to discovered that they’d bought tickets to a victory by default.”

Her bit said, the heiress continued on towards the doors – with Mark, Jelara and Tenir hurrying after her, even as more questions called out about his and Jelara’s presence tonight.

Mark was pretty sure he’d heard at least one person ask if she was sleeping with him and another ask if her engagement to Lirath was on the rocks – a phrase that interestingly seemed to have emerged in multiple different species entirely independently of each other. Much like lighthouses, for much the same reason.

And then they were through, past a final set of arena security agents and into the interior of the arena itself.

Which was… a little more utilitarian than he’d been expecting from the pilots entrance. In fact, it looked like most ‘backstage’ environments he’d encountered in his life. Which was to say a curious mix of cramped, cavernous, busy and empty. People in businesswear stood with their backs to menials in jumpsuits and uniformed security agents as they all hurried about their tasks, dipping into and out of long halls that lead off to who knew where.

Hopefully one of them lead to a locker room. Though given Tenir’s words on the subject, they weren’t likely to see said locker rooms before attending at least one meeting. A meeting which would decide if said locker room visit even happened.

And once more, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was even doing here. Honestly, he’d mostly been expecting to watch the whole thing go down on TV from back at the warehouse. Or perhaps be given tickets to a seat in the audience and some cab fare.

Instead, he was here. For reasons he didn’t fully understand beyond a few pithy remarks about being part of the team. A sentiment he felt was just a little exaggerated given he’d quite literally just made the team’s proverbial, and literal, sandwiches for a month.

It just… wasn’t quite on the same level as the other’s contributions.

Still, they’d asked and as such he was here.

“Lady Kalia?” A rather buttoned up formal clad Nighkru asked as the doors to the outside finally closed behind them.

“Just Kalia,” Kalia said. “Or pilot Kalia. I would have thought that obvious by now.”

The Nighkru glanced at Jelara’s sponsorless outfit for just a moment before jerkily continuing. “Of course, Kalia. Unfortunately, I am here to inform you that our management here at Krenhiem arena would like to talk to you about your mech and plans for competing before the match. There’s been some concerns raised.”

As she finished, Mark didn’t miss the way she glanced at Jelara – and neither did the woman herself given the way her fists clenched. Though Kalia and Tenir remained utterly unbothered.

“I thought they might,” Kalia said. “Well, we’ve not exactly got much time if we’re going to remain on schedule, so please feel free to lead the way.”

“Of course,” the arena manager said with a tiny bow. “If you and your… entourage would please follow me.”

Kalia nodded and soon they were being as lead down one of the halls. A journey that took about five minutes and halfway though had their surroundings transform from arena backstage to an ivy league frat house.

Which was to say things got fancier, but not entirely corporate fancy given the many trophies lining the walls.

Which Mark couldn’t help but note was another cultural convergence. Trophies made of shiny, usually rare and expensive metals, were apparently just another of those things that apparently had multi-species appeal.

His musings were cut short as their party reached a set of rather plush looking double doors. Clearly to a meeting room of some kind. And one that was very much occupied given the amount of noise issuing from inside. There was definitely a rather loud argument going on within.

Their guide gave them a rather plastic smile, before gesturing and stepping aside. “The managerial board waits at your convenience.”

“Mark, feel free to wait outside. I doubt you’ll want to be involved in this,” Kalia said without preamble. “Jelara-”

“I’m coming in,” the Ulnus gurgled.

Kalia frowned for a moment, clearly not expecting to be defied, before she simply nodded. “Of course. Do as you wish.”

For a moment, Mark was tempted to argue too, but just thinking about at the rows of stern looking business women through those doors was enough to make him rethink that stance.

Again, he didn’t think he was a coward, but this really wasn’t his battlefield. It wasn’t like he had anything he’d be able to add through his presence – and he was aware enough to know that it might actually prove to be a hindrance if anyone inside tried to use him to needle Kalia or Jelara.

So, he simply smiled and said. “Good luck.”

The trio of women each gave him smiles back – though he had to imagine it in Jelara’s case – before pushing open the doors and stepping inside.

Mark watched them go, before turning to their guide on the way up here.

“Is there any chance there’s somewhere nearby to sit down?” he asked politely. “I don’t know how long they’ll be and these shoes are killing me.”

The Nighkru woman was only to happy to do so. Either because she’d took pity on him or because she was equally eager to get away from the noises of ongoing verbal battle just beyond the nearby doors.

“Of course, if you’d follow me?”

------------------

Kalia wasn’t too surprised to see her mother wasn’t in attendance. At this point, being here or even sending a representative would be seen as a sign of weakness.

Proof positive that she couldn’t bring her unruly heir to heel.

Though at this point, I can’t help but wonder if I even still am her heir, she thought wryly as her gaze swept over the room.

Dominating the center was a long conference table cluttered with glowing data-slates. Various department heads filled the seats, eyes snapping to Kalia as she entered, whatever argument they’d been having put on hold as the source of said argument made her presence known. The only person who actually looked happy to see her was Saria, whose grease stained face dominated one of the screens at the back of the room.

Finally, there sat her opponent for the evening – and much of her professional career.

Pallen, the serpentine woman’s body dominating the small section of the conference room as she lounged in a chair designed for her species, black scales contrasting with the yellow of her piloting suit in a way that never quite failed to make Kalia’s mammal brain start squeaking.

Patience was not a strong suit of most people in this industry, and the Arena Head – sat at the head of the table - was no exception to the rule as she immediately snarled at Kalia.

“What the fuck is this, Vorn?” the Shil’vati barked from the table’s end, the burly woman’s tusks glinting as her data-slate slammed into the table with a sharp crack.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be specific,” Kalia responded calmly, uncaring for the insult implied by the use of her last name, as she met the Lurin’s glare.

“The abomination I’ve currently got sitting in one of my hangars. Where’s… Stargazer, or whatever shite you named your actual machine. Or the spare. How are we supposed to put on a show when you show up with… that!?”

“Starbreaker,” Kalia corrected with a little irritation, something echoed by Jelara, though thankfully the other woman remained silent. “Is no longer in my possession. Or rather, as my mother’s people have no doubt already informed you all, was never actually my possession to begin with. Thus, this is my new mech.”

“It barely reaches safety standards,” an engineer chimed in from a side screen.

“But it does reach them,” Saria interjected from the wall screen.

“Whether it does or doesn’t is irrelevant at this point. What I’m more concerned about is that fact that it has two seats?” Another department head cut in, eyes shifting from Kalia to Jelara. “Because I hope for your sake as well as ours that said seats are a result of a design oversight and has nothing to do with the individual next to you.”

Kalia smiled thinly. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to dissappinted, Hurel. As you’ve so astutely pointed out, this is Jelara. She’ll be joining me in in our coming match. She’ll be acting as my control interface.”

“You brought a co-pilot!?” the Arena Head growled, her hand slamming the table again. “What the fuck are you playing at here Vorn? One pilot per mech is the rule. Why in the world would you think we’d go along with this!?”

“I didn’t say co-pilot,” Kalia replied cooly – even as she sent a mental apology Jelara’s way. “I said control interface.”

“What difference does it make? You can dress it up however you like, this is an egregious violation of the rules!”

Tenir finally stepped forward, data-pad raised like a weapon. “Not at all. I think you’ll find that by the colony’s own laws, it’s quite legal.”

Another yelling match seemed primed to break out, before Lurin raised a single hand, silencing all parties present. “How?”

Terin smiled as she forwarded the appropriate quote to everyone’s data-pad. “As stated, ‘When operating any piece of machinery, it may be considered to have a single pilot when any supplemental ‘operators’ before the first originate from the Ulnus species.’”

Jelara finally spoke, her tone decidedly dead. “In essence, the law that allows construction and transport companies to exploit this one’s people’s natural abilities for maximal profit. After all, why buy an expensive command and control system for your CC-Machine when you can throw a bunch of Ulnus in there instead? You only need to pay one a piloting fee, and the rest can be paid, well, anything you want if they’re listed as ‘equipment’.”

“This is not a construction company,” one manager said, nonplussed.

“No, but your rulebook has nothing to say on the subject,” Tenir said, her tone unwavering. “Oh, there’s plenty on anti-grav units, weapon loadouts and reactor limits. Precious little on what defines a person or a pilot. Nothing beyond defaulting to ‘Krenheim norms’ as written.”

And they’d checked - definitively.

A quiet, if slightly disbelieving hush, fell over the room. Kalia was pretty sure she heard a muttered ‘we can’t honestly be going along with this gutter-snipe?’

The words of others didn’t really matter though.

Only the Arena Head’s word mattered here – and she watched as Turin irritably glanced at the lawyers clustered at the table’s end, their faces frowning as their fingers flitted across their omni-pad’s screens.

Kalia smiled. She knew she had an argument - a weak one to be sure, basically just a loophole stretched thin, but an argument all the same.

And the match’s start was scheduled barely more than an hour away.

A decision needed to be made and it needed to be made soon – and everyone here had a vested interest in making the choice go one way.

They just needed a justification to make things appear ‘legitimate’. A justification she’d just provided.

There’s no rule that says a dog can’t play basketball, she thought wrly. And there’s no rule that says any individuals beyond the first are a person when installed into a mech suit. Only a person can be a pilot. And a suit’s only allowed one pilot.

Grim, certainly, and a loophole that the arena would look to close as soon as they possibly could – even if they’d have to drag the construction and transport industries along kicking and screaming.

For now though…

“Let her have her ‘command and control interface’.”

Kalia was a little surprised. She’d walked in here expecting to hear those words, but not from that particular source.

Every eye in the room turned towards where Pallen was sat, though the Senthe only had eyes for Kalia. Her opponent looked irritated, but resigned.

Pallen’s manager leaned forward, her voice sharp. “Mrs. Pallen, I must ask you to-”

“You’ll ask me to do nothing,” Pallen interrupted, her gaze remain locked onto Kalia. “Make no mistake Vorn, I’m not happy about this stunt. Nor that abomination you’re about to fight me in.”

Kalia saw Saria and Jelara shift irritably on the screen and beside her, but they held their tongues.

Pallen continued, her voice rising slightly. “Because now I’m either the woman who trashed a scrap-heap mech to win her title - or, though I don’t consider it likely, the woman who lost to a trash heap. Either way, I’m leaving this stadium with my reputation in tatters or my win tarnished by your idiocy. And that’s before we get into this co-pilot business.”

Jelara stiffened slightly as the other woman’s gaze roamed over her, before the Senthe continued. “Unfortunately for me, either of those outcomes beats me winning by default. Because that’s the only other outcome here tonight. Because these idiots-” she gestured around the room, her hand sweeping over the managers, some faces flushing with indignation “-failed to disqualify you the moment your mommy dropped your spoiled rich girl ass and took your mech.”

Kalia once more remained unmoved. The insult was a familiar one, a barb she’d heard a million times before. Plenty of them from Pallen herself.

Again, they’d been rivals for a long time – their rise to the Krenheim cup itself a curious mirror.

Pallen pressed on, her voice firm. “In which case, we could’ve moved up a former competitor to fill your spot. Which isn’t happening now - not after these idiots spent the last month hyping up our showdown, hoping mommy dearest would pick you back up, or buying into whatever crap your manager’s been spewing about you still being able to compete.”

Her gaze flicked to Tenir, her lips curling slightly, her fingers stilling on the armrest. None of the department heads said anything, even if she was pretty sure Pallen was making enemies right now. More than a few looked pissed. Lurin wasn’t one of them though. She just looked contemplative as the Senth continued.

“Now we’ve got a stadium full of people who’ll riot if they don’t get a match. So, fuck it, let’s do this. Let’s stop pretending we have a choice. We can change the rules after, but let’s face it, this match is happening right now.”

Kalia waited in the silence, her heart pounding, her chest rising with each breath, her hooves rooted to the floor.

Everything hinged on this moment - the loophole, the mech, her dreams, Jelara’s future. Department heads exchanged glances, lawyers whispered, Lurin sat silently.

Finally, someone spoke.

--------------------

Mark tugged at his collar uncomfortably and tried not to focus on the way his current seating position only accentuated the way his absurdly tight pants cradled his crotch.

He hated this outfit. Actively. Truly.

He didn’t care how expensive it was, he had made up his mind. As soon as he was out of this walking torture rack, he was burning it. The catharsis from watching it go up in flames would be worth every credit.

It didn’t help that he didn’t have anything to do but wait. The woman who’d guided him up here had been called away to whatever her actual job was when she wasn’t guiding people around. Assuming she hadn’t been called away to guide different people.

Either way, he was alone in the small alcove she’d guided him to. Tucked out of the way of the many people who were rushing about to get the arena ready for the upcoming match.

Assuming there was going to be a match.

Whether or not it would be going ahead definitely depended on just how Kalia’s negotiations were coming along.

“Probably should have gone with her,” he murmured as he once more discretely unstuck his testicles from the flesh of his thigh.

It would have beat just… sitting here, marinating in both tedium and tension. Honestly, even if some part of him felt guilty about it, he was thinking about flirting with the next cute looking technician who peaked her head in to ‘discretely’ get a look at the human.

It’d take his mind off things at least.

Oh, he wouldn’t do anything. Not on Kalia and Jelara’s big day. No matter how tempting it would be to lure some unsuspecting – but hopeful! – Nighkru to some darkened corner and blowing her-

“Slut!”

The words caught him off guard, not just the choice of terminology but the fact that it had come from a distinctly male voice.

A familiar one at that.

In English. Accented heavily, but English.

“Oh Lirath,” Mark said as he glanced up to find a distinctly stormy looking Nighkru standing over him.

And that was kind of impressive. All the concrete made shit echo wildly in here, and the dude’s outfit really wasn’t designed for stealth. Much too shiny. And those heels couldn’t be comfortable.

…Also, did he look up human insults just to aim one at Mark?

“Did you just call me a slut?” Mark asked in amusement.

“You ruined everything!” Lirath chose not to answer, his voice a low, venomous growl, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “So well done. Good for you, human – you played up Kalia’s mech fantasies to oust me. Only now she’s being disowned, so she’s worth nothing!”

Mark winced a little at that. Not the insults, he barely registered those, but the fact that Kalia was being disowned.

…Though she’d said that was a possibility, and she was fine with it, so he supposed it wasn’t anything to get too worked up about.

“Did you not hear me slut! You’ve been lying on your back for nothing! You gold excavator!”

Again, that word. He supposed it was technically correct, but it didn’t realty work the way the alien seemed to think it did. Again though, Mark was kind of impressed Lirath had gone through the effort of looking up a human word to try and insult him.

The ‘gold digger’ one was especially funny. Especially coming from Lirath, whose entire engagement to Kalia had been a calculated grab for Vorn’s wealth.

Idly, he glanced up at the oversized manchild in front of him. For a moment, he considered lying. Because for whatever reason, Kalia clearly had had feelings for Lirath at some point. Sad, unreciprocated feelings, but feelings all the same.

With that said… she had slept with him. So whatever torch his boss had been carrying had either gone out or started to gutter. And Lirath now clearly wanted nothing to do with the ‘broke’ former heiress.

So fuck it. He didn’t need to hold back.

And smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t say I got nothing out of ‘lying on my back’. Though I’ll also say our time together didn’t involve me lying down much.” Awkward crouching would be a better descriptor for their first and only time together, but Lirath didn’t need to know that. “Your fiancée truly is incredible in the sack. I’m getting slightly hard just thinking about it. You missed out, man.”

Lirath’s eyes looked like they were in danger of popping out of his head as Mark continued.

“As for the credits? Eh.”

For some reason, that seemed to strike the Nighkru far more than the casual admittance that Mark had actually slept with his fiancée – or was it former fiancée now?

“Eh?”

Mark nodded. “Eh. Doesn’t matter. I like Kalia. A lot more than I ever thought I would. She’s sweet, conscienscous, driven. And I said, really good in the sack.”

Ok, that last part was a little bit of a lie, given it’d either been her first time or she’d been incredibly rusty. The poor girl had been less of an active participant and more of a mewling victim of both him and Jelara.

But he was a guy, and that honestly made it hot as hell. And hell, she’d improve with a few opportunities to practice. Opportunities he had every intention of providing.

You know, provided this doesn’t all go to shit and they weren’t rendered homeless and penniless in the next few weeks, he thought.

Which, wasn’t an unlikely outcome.

“Also, I really didn’t seduce her because I had some kind of agenda beyond clapping those delightful red cheeks. As you said, I’m a slut, good sex is its own reward. I’m not some kind of whore.”

He stared up at the visibly furious Nighkru. “Did you perchance come across that word while looking up ways to insult me? Whore? Basically a guy or girl who spreads their legs for money.”

He didn’t need to say the words. His eyes said it all for him.

Like you.

Lirath’s face twisted, his silver skin darkening to a near-purple – and Mark didn’t see him move. The slap was more surprising than painful though. Honestly, Mark took a second to realize it had happened, as his hand reached up touch the slightly warm skin of his cheek.

Lirath though? His silver eyes gleamed with smug triumph, his horns tilting higher as he opened his mouth to continue, his voice rising. “That’s what you get you primitive satyric-”

Mark’s fist moved before he a moment to think about it, connecting with Lirath’s jaw mid-sentence, a solid, resounding crack that sent the alein staggering, his eyes rolling back as he crumpled to the floor, feet splayed awkwardly.

And… ugh.

“I suppose that’s one of the downsides of clothing that tight,” Mark muttered.

Yeah, the alien had suffered a small… wardrobe malfunction when he hit the floor. And as much as Mark would have liked to have said it was indeed small, it was sadly undeniably quite average.

Not that he caught more than a glimpse before averting his gaze.

“And now I’m stuck with a knocked out alien with his dick out,” he murmured.

Did he call for help? Was he supposed to ‘tuck’ the guy back in before doing so. Because he really didn’t want to. No, it was unfortunate for the guy, but if anyone was going to drag him away, they were going to do so while catching a full view of his… asset.

Honestly though, Mark was a little surprised he’d crumpled so easily. Sure, the guy hadn’t seemed like any kind of fighter – far from it – but Mark wasn’t either.

If anything, the human owed his success to the fact that alien just… hadn’t seen it coming.

“Honestly, who slaps a guy and doesn’t expect to get punched back?” Mark shook his head.

Fortunately, the cameras would show that that was exactly what happened, so Mark wasn’t exactly worried about any kind of repercussions for this. Again, most of his current issues came down to the fact that he had a knocked out alien on the floor. With his dick out.

…Maybe he could find a cup of water or something to wake him up? Or maybe just slapping his cheeks a bit would work? He vaguely recalled that most people who got knocked out were only unconscious for a few seconds.

“Fuck, I hope he’s not dead.”

The guy was a douche, but he didn’t want him dead. Fortunately, a hand near the guys mouth showed he was still breathing.

“Thank fuck for that…”

He was just thinking about employing the slapping technique to see if he couldn’t rouse the guy when footsteps, rapid and urgent, echoed from the hallway.

And Mark had just a moment to panic and maybe consider… tucking the Liran’s dick in with the tip of his shoe before Kalia, Tenir and Jelara emerged into the room with him.

“Mark, we- is that my fiancée? Why is he on the floor!? AND WHY IS HIS DICK OUT?”

Mark stood up, straightened his shirt and turned to the trio. “Kalia, things went well then? I hope you’ll tell me all about it on the way to the hangar? And Tenir? Would you mind seeing if someone nearby can’t help Lirath to a medical station? He seems to have… fallen.”

Perhaps if he pretended nothing was wrong here, they’d believe it too. It even worked in Tenir’s case, as she allowed herself one final glance between the two males, before sighing and walking away.

The same could not be said for Kalia…

“Mark! Seriously, what the fuck happened here!? We were gone for five minutes!”

Mark sighed. Not least of all because the situation wasn’t helped by Jelara’s muttered: “Is it wrong that this one thinks this is kind of hot?”

Which Kalia heard. “Yes!”

Mark sighed again - and started explaining. 

Though he struggled a bit when it came time to try and delicately explain that Kalia was both no longer engaged and had technically been disowned. Though it was made easier since, in comparison to those two facts, him knocking  out Kalia’s former fiancee no longer seemed quite so important.

Silver linings and all that.