Left alone at the banquet table, Taes could finally stop. Stop trying. Stop listening. Stop focusing.

She could be.

Her jaw stung from smiling, and her shoulder blades throbbed from standing at attention while Rylgeen shredded her every diplomatic gambit. Now that Yuulik had scampered off to interrogate a K’ritz attache and Kellin had returned to the food sculptures for his third helping, Taes turned her attention and her fork to her own bowl of seagrass and shellfish.

She hadn’t disconnected so much that she couldn’t feel a presence over her shoulder. Her assumption that it was her yeoman was quickly disproven when Flavia stabbed one of her mollusks and leaned in to eat it, eye-to-eye with Taes.

Even with the benefit of Deltan empathy, Taes could always sense layers upon layers in Flavia’s being. Some reports from Starfleet Intelligence had posited that nearly every aspect of Romulan culture was framed around masks and conspiracies. Between crises, Taes had been toying with the notion that she could develop a formula to assess the whole of a Romulan based on the sum of their many lies. Between Flavia’s brilliant fake smile, the occasional twitch of fear in her eyes, and the double entendres in her choice of words, Taes pondered if there was enough kernel of truth to each component to say she could know Flavia. Truly know her.

“I’m noticing an abundance of Starfleet dress uniforms,” Flavia said while she chewed. She dropped into the chair beside Taes, pointing out the teal shoulders in the crowd of the K’ritz reception hall. “Almost three times as many since we arrived, don’t you think? Helpfully, you’ve colour-coded them all as science officers. I guess in case you forget their names again?”

If there was one thing Taes knew about Flavia, she took pride in elicitting shock and disproval from her. After over a year of their joint exploration of how Starfleet and the Romulans could work in tandem, Taes almost found it charming.

Almost.

At the very least, Taes would be wounded if Flavia didn’t at least try to get under her skin.

So, contrarily, Taes made no attempt to hide her subterfuge.

“I invited more science officers over from Almagest,” Taes said in an undertone. “Their first contract training will allow their interviews of K’ritz diplomats and facility staff to feel as natural as small talk. Once we’re en route to the K’ritz homeworld, we’ll have few opportunities to study their values, diplomacy, perspective of aliens, and musical tastes.”

Taes ate the last mollusk off her plate when Flavia moved to swipe it for herself.

Then, she asked, “Is this your way of asking me to beam over more of your own team to do the same?”

Flavia frowned at Taes. It was such a little thing, and she made a meal of it. Her brow furrowed, and her lips pouted. Then she shook her head with surprising vigour as if trying to loose an insect from her wild hair.

“No,” Flavia insisted. “What do you think Ketris and the others have been doing this whole time? I didn’t want to scandalise you with our methods. You always told me Starfleet prefers to gather data in controlled environments. Sterile lighting. Consent forms.”

Taes tilted her head. “There isn’t time for all of that. Besides, aren’t you always saying Starfleet is meant to learn as much from the Romulans as you are from us?”

Flattening a palm on her chest, Flavia tilted back in her chair as if Taes had insulted her grandmother. But her lips curled in a pleased smile as if Taes’s choice of epithet had been cleverly scathing.

“What,” Flavia asked, elongating the vowel, “could you possibly have to learn from us? Starfleet is always the winning side. You release the Dominion upon yourself. You get infiltrated by the Changelings, the Borg and the dreaded Tal Shiar, and you’re still winning.”

Narrowing her eyes at Flavia, Taes asked, “And what have you decoded from your studies? Isn’t that why you accepted this assignment?” –It had been too long since Taes had asked Flavia anything about herself, especially after all the confusion caused by the Flavia Changeling– “Studying Starfleet. Studying me.”

Grinning, Flavia rocked her chair forward, smacking its feet on the floor once again. She shrugged at Taes but looked no less pleased with herself.

“And the adventure continues,” Flavia declared.

“Are we going to work together on this?” Taes asked. She locked onto Flavia, really looking at her. She didn’t pose the question; she presented it as her view of the universe, willing it into being.

Taes went on to say, “We’ll share our research into the K’ritz, and if either side wins, we’ll share the spoils?”

Flavia didn’t break eye contact. “What do I need with star charts if I don’t have a starship?”

The evasion wasn’t much of a surprise. Too many of their conversations spiraled into questions upon questions upon questions.

“That’s not a yes,” Taes pointed out.

At first, Flavia blinked, then looked down, appearing lost in a moment’s consideration. When she met Taes’s eyes again, the forced smile had faded. There was only a question on her lips.

“Are you saying you want to sing a duet with me?” she asked.

“I won’t be singing,” Taes replied firmly. “Commander Calumn will represent Starfleet.”

Scoffing at that, Flavia rolled her eyes.

“That block of wood?” Flavia said, exasperated. “He speaks in monotone.”

Even more firmly, Taes said, “Tumaini Calumn is a capable–”

“Whenever I’m trapped with him on a turbolift,” Flavia interjected, “he won’t stop asking me about two-hundred-year-old Romulan swordsmiths.”

Taes tapped the table with her index finger to punctuate her point. “You should hear him sing, Flavia. He’ll surprise you.”

Shaking her head, Flavia asked, “And where did he demonstrate this supposed talent? He’s only been your executive officer for a couple of weeks.”

“I trust him with my life,” Taes said simply.

Flavia blew air between her teeth with a, “tt,” and then she insisted, “He’s a shadow of Kellin. You never should have let that one scarper back to his ex-husband.”

Holding perfectly still, it took all of Taes’s effort not to frown or at least flinch. Kellin Rayco accepting the executive officer position aboard USS Almagest stung –even if he was still in the Constellation Squadron family– but she wouldn’t admit that to Flavia.

So, Taes lashed out.

“Are you saying Kellin was easier to manipulate than Calumn?” Taes asked, leaning in as she did so.

“Why would that concern me?” Flavia asked.

Taes leaned in more to whisper in Flavia’s ear: “Just find Calumn a Romulan sword, and he’ll be eating out of your hand.”