"[color=#d9d9d9]This![/color]"

 There was a flash, and a click, in rapid succession. The photograph was great, by the standards of the photographs on the crew database; the shot managed to capture more of his face, with the huge eyes and pointed ears, rather than the wall of the room. It was even in [i]focus[/i], and the subject of the photograph wasn't screaming or swearing. On some half-baked circuit deep within the machine, straining under the weight of having to run even just a fragment of the Ship AI, an idea sizzled.

 "[color=#d9d9d9]Taking a photograph, for the crew database. And, um, I've got a plan. A favour, really. I need to ask.[/color]"

 It turned to look to it's left, then to it's right. There was of course no way that anybody else would be in the room other than these two, because the room was so small that the pair of them would have surely bumped into any would-be interlopers or eavesdroppers. Such an action was almost entirely for show. Seemingly content that the coast was indeed clear, it lowered it's voice to a level suitable for conspiratorial whispering.

 "[color=#d9d9d9]What do you know about [i]dating[/i]?[/color]"

[@TwelveOf8]