nyota_uhura24 | [SOL! Verse - Walk a Mile in My Shoes]

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[SOL! Verse - Walk a Mile in My Shoes]

Nyota couldn't wait to get out of the house. The atmosphere had been tense ever since Kamau had come home bruised and bloody on Saturday night. She'd heard him arguing with their father the day before, but went into the room she shared with Sadiki and closed the door, not really wanting to hear anymore. They seemed to have reached a tentative truce, and she wanted to believe that the matter was over, but some part of her knew that even if they could let go of this particular incident this wasn't really the end. It wasn't the first time Kamau's choices had caused tension, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

In any event, she was more than happy to bid farewell to her family for the evening. It wasn't even a lie to say she was going to meet a friend, even if there was no reason to inform her family that she was going to see Jim and he was going to teach her to dance. She shook off the feelings of guilt and focused on the fact that she was finally going to do something she'd been dreaming about since she was a little girl. Dancing with him in the diner was more fun than she'd ever imagined it could be. It simply felt right to move that way to the music, to be held in his arms. She wanted to feel that way again, slightly breathless but completely comfortable. In the process, she knew she'd have the opportunity to learn more about the man whose music spoke to her before they'd even introduced themselves. There was no denying that Jim was unlike anyone she'd known before; she looked forward to him constantly surprising her, and to how much she smiled when he was around. Seeing him always made her day a little brighter.

She tried to ignore the little fluttering in her chest as she got off the 2 subway at the stop closest to his house. She didn't go to the Bronx often, so she couldn't help looking around curiously as she walked to his apartment building, high heels clicking softly on the pavement. They seemed like the right shoes for dancing. When she got to the top floor she took a deep breath, feeling suddenly slightly nervous, and knocked.

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It was a slight relief when they stopped talking about Santa and presents and unwrapping. She had only vague images of what that might entail, but it wasn't helping with her resolve to ignore the strange reactions he elicited. What was undoubtedly harmless flirting from his perspective was making her feel things she most certainly shouldn't be feeling around him.

She grinned a little at the praise and redoubled her efforts to hold the uncomfortable arch. The basic steps were already ingrained in her mind, but she had to focus to keep her body in the proper position. He took her hand and moved into the stance with her, and she resolutely ignored the way a shiver went down her spine at having him so closely pressed against her. “Use you for balance?” she repeated, not quite understanding. It caught her slightly off guard when he turned them in a fast circle, and she very nearly tripped over her own feet. Her grip on him tightened slightly in surprise, but his body pressed against hers was also supporting her. “Ah,” she said, the balance comment making more sense now. “Do that again?”

"Oh, you liked that, did you?" he teased her lightly and spun her around again, then led her across the floor. It was nowhere near as fast as it needed to be, but it would still give her that feeling of practically running that was necessary.

He kept to the basic steps, but gradually increased the tempo, just as he'd said he would. Whenever her stance slackened a little, he'd slide his hand down her back and tug her back into the right one.

It was only when they were both more than warmed up and breathless, her more than him, that he paused. "You're getting the hang of it," he noted and leaned on the kitchen counter to take pour them both a glass of water. "How're your feet doing? Sore yet?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I did," she confirmed. "And this time I'll even be ready for it." It was much easier to spin the second time, and she couldn't hold back a happy laugh. The smile stayed on her face even as she focused on the steps.

Jim gradually increased the pace, and she couldn't seem to stop smiling even though it was sometimes hard to keep up. This dance was so different than what they'd done before – it felt as if they were literally running around the room – but she loved feeling a little breathless. She told herself firmly that it was only the exercise that made it difficult to catch her breath; Jim being so close to her had nothing to do with it.

Occasionally her stance slipped, and each time she resolved that she wouldn't let it happen again again. It invariably did, and gradually she accepted that she wouldn't always be able to do everything perfectly the first time. That didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

When he stopped, she took a moment to catch her breath and gratefully accepted the glass of water. “Thank you." She was still grinning even though she was tired. When he asked about her feet, she replied, "Not at all," then considered for a moment and amended her reply. “Well, maybe a little, but it's nothing I can't handle.”

The sound of her laughter brought a smile to his face as well, made him feel light and happy and like there was nothing in the world he couldn't do. It was evident that she wasn't going to complain or back out when things got difficult. Even if she was used to being on her feet all day, he had no doubt she was going to get sore from this. And not just in her feet either, but in every part of her body she was using now that she didn't exercise regularly.

"I'm sure you can handle a lot more than people give you credit for," he smiled at her and downed the rest of his water. "You don't give up easily. Which is good if you really want to learn. You're going to be feeling it tomorrow, though."

Moving to the fridge, he got out a few things to start on dinner. "But for now, I'm getting hungry. Keep going while I cook, though, you need the practice. Maybe I can show you something else after we eat."

He smiled back at her, and her heart did a little flip in her chest. She had to keep concentrating on the steps, but somehow she still managed to lose herself in the dance, in how it felt to be in his arms. Her body ached from the unusual position, and her muscles weren't used to the movements, but the slight pain made her feel as if she was really accomplishing something. Everything about this evening was so different than her normal life, and she wanted to treasure every moment of it.

It was far nicer than it should have been to have someone recognize that she could do more than just wait tables and make coffee. “I don't have a lot of opportunities to do things like this, so I'm not going to waste this one. And if I feel it tomorrow, it'll just remind me that I actually learned something tonight.”

She'd forgotten about dinner, but her stomach suddenly reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch. She raised a curious eyebrow when he said he was going to make dinner. “You're sure you don't want me to cook? You are giving me free dance lessons, after all.”

It didn't surprise him to hear her say she hadn't had many opportunities to challenge herself, but it did frustrate him immensely. "You'll learn a lot more before I'm through with you. Work hard enough, and you'll be tangoing your way into the new year."

He filled a pot with water and put it on the small stove, then pointed a stern finger at her, humor evident in his eyes. "Don't you dare. You've got dancing to do, so get on with it."

With a wink, he turned back to his cooking, grateful for a break from trying to distract himself from the feeling of her in his arms and the way she looked at him when they danced. It still sent little thrills through him, and it was becoming a problem. That she expected to do something in return for the dance lessons struck him as slightly absurd. He'd offered because he wanted to teach her, because he wanted to keep seeing that smile on her face, so it was hardly a selfless act on his part. "This isn't quid pro quo, Uhura. I'm teaching you because I want to, I don't expect anything in return."

Nyota had long been frustrated with having so few chances to challenge herself, but Jim's dance lessons meant she'd be walking with a little skip in her step, even when her feet hurt. She flashed him another grin when he said she was going to learn a lot more. “I always keep my promises too, and I promise to work as hard as I can,” she said, immensely excited about all the dances he was going to teach her. She so rarely had the chance to really give something her all.

He forbade her to cook, which just made her laugh. “All right, no more offering to cook when I'm supposed to be dancing,” she replied, finishing the water and setting down the glass. “Can you actually cook, Jim?” she asked, voice teasingly incredulous as she stepped out onto the floor and resumed the quick step position. It felt different without Jim to support her, but she didn't let that stop her from dancing across the room and spinning herself around. She pretended he was still holding her in his arms even though she was dancing alone.

Jim assured her that he was teaching her because he wanted to, but she still felt slightly guilty. She didn't entirely know what to make of his kindness, but it wasn't as if she had anything to teach him in return. “I still wish I could do something for you,” she said quietly, "but thank you."

Chuckling quietly to himself, he got out some tomatoes for the sauce. "Not really, no," he replied with a small shrug, then made a show of staring at the pointy end of the knife he'd picked up to chop them. "You use this end, right? The sharp, pointy one?"

With a mischievous grin, he tossed a tomato up in the air and speared it with the knife, then studied it curiously. "Huh. I guess you do."

Going back to his cooking, he glanced over his shoulder at her from time to time. Just to see how she was doing, really. "Alright, if you really want to do something, then promise to dance with me on New Year's, and we'll call it even." It was an innocent enough suggestion, but he couldn't help feeling just a little guilty that she probably didn't know just how much he enjoyed holding her in his arms when they danced. And while he'd never have actual ulterior motives for asking her to dance, he wasn't quite able to deny himself this.

She glanced over at him curiously when he said he couldn't really cook, brow knitting slightly at his question about the knife. He is joking, right? she thought, and then blinked in surprise as he tossed the tomato up in the air and then speared it. She let out a half-laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Very impressive,” she said, in a voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. “Now if you'd care to actually cook I might be able to focus on the dancing instead of worrying that you're going to hurt yourself.”

And that's precisely what she did, letting herself get lost in the music and the steps. She'd already memorized the space, so occasionally she let her eyes drift closed and just moved with the rhythm. It stopped feeling strange to dance alone, though she was still imagining dancing with Jim. The request about New Year's surprised her a little, because it seemed both unbelievably simple and slightly complicated. Her family would be there... but surely there was no real harm in one dance? They wouldn't realize that he'd been teaching her. “All right, I promise,” she replied. "Though I think I'm getting the better end of the deal, because all this means is that I have another chance to dance with you."

Her comment was so off handed and casual it took a moment for it to sink in what she'd actually said. When it did, he very nearly took off his own finger with the knife. Did she just--? No. She couldn't have... She was probably one of the most confusing women he'd eve met; one moment, she was practically chastising him for a little innocent flirting, the next she was saying things like that. Things that made him question if she was really quite as uninterested and innocent as she came across as.

"Funny, that's what I was thinking, too," he muttered and shook his head to clear it and at least try to keep his mind on the right track. She wasn't interested and there was really no point in deluding himself into thinking otherwise. And even if she was, it would only spell trouble for them both to act on it. Maybe it was time to take one of the foxtrot furies up on their offers, just to get it out of his system, though he wasn't sure he was ready to resort to that kind of drastic measures. Once burnt, twice shy and all that.

"It's a deal, then," he said, slightly louder and got out some plates and cutlery to set the table. It was still in the corner, but they'd manage. They weren't done with her lesson yet.

She really did love dancing with him. She'd never danced like this with anyone else, so it wasn't as if she had anything to compare it to, but she felt certain that dancing with someone else wouldn't be the same. She couldn't ever imagine not wanting to dance with him, though she supposed they ought o restrict dancing in the diner to New Year's. It bothered her that she had to keep this from her family, but she wasn't going to give it up. She'd been contemplating at least telling Chiedza, but it was difficult to keep secrets from the rest of the family, and she knew her father would be displeased, and Kamau even more so. She tried to believe that someday that would change.

Jim mumbled that he was thinking the same thing, and she flashed a smile in his direction even though he seemed focused on the cooking. “I'm always happy to dance with you,” she replied, twirling around. It wasn't the same without him to support her, but she was getting accustomed to the movements. “So yes, it's a deal. I'm glad you're coming to the New Year's party. A lot of my family from New Orleans and Philadelphia will be in town. They're going to love your music, though don't be surprised when my aunt tries to tell your fortune."

"Yeah?" he asked amusedly as he set the table, careful not to disturb the tissues on his thumb. It wasn't more than a scratch really, and it had practically stopped bleeding already. "Don't be surprised if I don't let your aunt. I'd rather not know what's in the cards for me."

On his way back to the kitchen space, she twirled again, and he almost bumped into her. It was close, but he managed to catch her before they both fell over. Once more, he looked into her eyes and seemed to lose himself in them, in the way his arm fit around her waist and how this was a much more intimate position than when they'd danced. Because it wasn't part of a dance. They were so close that all he had to do was lean in and... He sucked in a breath as the timer for his pasta went off. Talk about saved by the bell, he thought wryly and let her go.

"I, uh--" he cleared his throat and focused on draining the pasta. "I was thinking that we could do a couple of songs together at Christmas. If your dad will let you sing at the diner. A few carols, a few more modern ones, stuff that fits the holiday. I don't write stuff like that, and it's usually what people wanna hear, so... If you're up for it too, of course."

“I don't think you need to worry too much. I wouldn't actually let her tell my fortune if I thought there was a chance she'd get it right.” The prospect of being told that her life would unfold exactly as she expected it to was a little too daunting to face. “Just don't get her started on the voodoo."

The near collision made her lose her balance, and for a split second she was afraid she'd fall over, but then his arms were around her to hold her steady. The apology she was about to utter died on her lips as her eyes met his. She was instantly lost in the blue of his eyes, in the feel of him so closer to her, and she could neither move nor look away. He seemed almost to be leaning closer, and she was certain she'd even forgotten how to breathe.

The sounds of the timer actually made her jump slightly, and then he was moving away. What just happened?! “I'm sorry,” she managed. “I wasn't watching where I was going.” She forced herself to focus on what he was saying, and not the fact that he'd been so close she could feel his breath against her lips. The idea of singing with him brought the smile back to her face, helped her to focus on something besides the strange moment they'd just had. “I'd love to,” she replied, already excited about the idea. “I'll have to ask my dad, of course, but I think he'll say yes. He likes carols.”

He waved off her apology, not quite trusting himself to say anything more about that little incident. It was inappropriate and should never have happened. So he busied himself getting the last of dinner ready and nodded as she spoke. "It'll be good for business too. We'll put you in a red dress or something, get a mike stand... I'll see if I can get there early a few days so we can catch the rush of people wanting to warm up after spending the day buying presents."

It was an idea he'd toyed with, and while Uhura's diner was doing relatively well, Jim was sure Mr. Uhura wouldn't mind the extra cash in his till. "We could even talk your old man into doing a late afternoon special with mulled wine and those sticky cinnamon buns. Hot cocoa for the kiddies, refills are half price. What do you think?"

He turned and put the pot he'd mixed the pasta and sauce in on the table, then gestured for her to sit.

“I always wear a red dress on Christmas,” she replied lightly, trying to keep her mind on the discussion and not whatever had just happened. “I know it isn't exactly your style, but our patrons would love it if you played at least a few carols every night during the weeks leading up to Christmas." Her father would also like it, but she kept that detail to herself for the moment.

His suggestion made her glance over at him a little curiously. It caught her off guard that he was thinking so much about business strategies for the diner, but she couldn't help smiling in approval. After considering for a moment, she replied, “I like it. Perhaps we could add spiked cider and traditional Kenyan tea to the holiday drink menu. A lot of people in our neighborhood have Kenyan roots, and the tea goes well with cinnamon buns. We should even be able to get it cheaply, since my uncle runs a tea shop."

She sat down, still mulling over the possibilities. “You don't mind being around the diner so much, even over the holidays?”

"And I'll bet you look lovely in it, too." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It wasn't too obvious a flirtation, but it was still inappropriate. Or maybe he just thought it was because at least he'd been able to stop himself from commenting that he was pretty sure she'd look even better out of the red dress. Which only led to thoughts about what she'd be wearing under the dress and made him have to think of linear algebra to keep his head clear.

He took her plate and served her some pasta before taking some for himself and tried to actually listen to what she was saying. "That's actually what I was thinking too. Only I was thinking we could both sing them. It'd be nice to have some company up on the stage." He picked up his fork and did a little wave in direction of her plate with it. "Dig in. It's not Signor Luciano's but it's eatable."

Her suggestions were good, and he nodded in agreement to them. Mr. Uhura would be wise to listen to his eldest daughter's ideas if this was the kind of thing she came up with. "You should definitely do that, it's a great idea. Mix the different traditions up a little."

After waiting for her to start, he took a bite, chewing it pensively, before casually admitting, "I don't mind. I like it at the diner, and it's not like I have somewhere else I have to be."

She tried to keep the blush off her cheeks and just smiled, feeling inordinately pleased that he'd complimented her. “Red's one of my favorite colors. Purple's the other,” she said, and then felt a little ridiculous for telling him such inane details. One of the many things she loved about Christmas was that the color red was part of the theme.

When he suggested that they sing together in the weeks leading up to Christmas, she had to make a concerted effort to reign in her enthusiasm until she had her father's permission. “I'd much rather be singing than waiting tables... If it's only a few songs, my dad might agree, especially if they're Christmas carols.” He complimented her other suggestions, and her smile brightened a little. “I'll talk to him about all this first, if you don't mind.”

She twirled some spaghetti around her fork when he set the plate down in front of her. “Thanks,” she said, taking a bite. One eyebrow canted upwards in mild surprise. “It's good... Is there anything you can't do, Jim?” she asked, expression bemused. She'd definitely worked up an appetite dancing, and she happily took a few more bites.

Something about the overly casual tone of his admission gave her pause, but she certainly wasn't going to press the matter. “Well, we're very happy to have you and your music whenever you have time to be there.”

"I'm sure you'd look pretty spectacular in white, too." Once more, his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, and he flitted his eyes away as the obvious innuendo in that hung in the air between them.

He quickly took another bite of food before anything even more damaging could escape him and made sure he chewed slowly to buy himself some time to get his sudden foot-in-mouth disease under control. "Of course I don't mind, it's his business," he shrugged when he'd swallowed his food. And his little pause seemed to have worked because he didn't add that her father would be a fool not to implement the idea. Especially since he had a beautiful daughter with a great voice who'd shine on stage. Once word got out, Jim was sure they'd be packing full houses for the duration.

She complimented his food, and he smiled when he met her eyes again. "Plenty, believe me. I can't draw to save my life, in fact, I'm pretty useless when it comes to anything artistic, though I like going to the occasional museum. I can't keep my mouth shut about things I believe in. I'm also pretty useless at doing laundry which costs me a mint in new t-shirts when I get stains on them, but I'm too stubborn to stop wearing white ones."

There was a boyish grin on his face when he ended his little list of faults and flaws. "Oh, and I've never been able to turn down a challenge or a dare. Which has led to some both terrifically funny and incredibly tragic events."

She blinked in mild surprise at the comment. He couldn't mean...? He kept saying things that caught her slightly off guard, things she didn't quite know how to respond to, but things that still sent little thrills of happiness through her. “Thank you,” she said, not sure how else to reply.

She shook her head a little at the next comment. “I just meant that I should talk to him instead of you. I know what his concerns will be, and he's willing to listen to me sometimes.” She knew her father was forward-thinking about a lot of things, including women's rights, but he still believed that to look after her he had to restrict her in a lot of ways. If her mother were alive, things would be different...

She shook off that train of thought and listened with open amusement as he described his faults. Her brow furrowed slightly when he said that his inability to turn down a dare had led to tragic as well as comedic consequences, but she didn't ask about it. Instead she tilted her head as if in thought. “I can actually draw fairly well, and I'm perfectly capable of getting stains out of white shirts,” she said slowly, and then a grin spread across her face. “I can't bowl to save anyone's life, and I'm terrible at shoveling snow, but I've never lost a snow ball fight. I try to keep my mouth shut about things I believe in, but it doesn't always work, and I have a feeling I'm going to get worse and worse at it around you.”

Her smile turned ever so slightly sly as she added, “As for the challenges and dares, I'm afraid we're out of luck, because I've never been any good at turning them down either.”

Nyota Uhura obviously had much better manners than he did since she let his unfortunate comment slide. An example he was happy to follow. At least until the next time he slipped up.

"If it's only sometimes, he should do it more," he commented, then rolled his eyes at himself in amusement. "See? Can't keep it shut." She was smart and had some very good ideas. In Jim's mind, it was a tragedy that she didn't get to speak freely more often.

He listened as she commented on his little list of flaws and chuckled to himself. "Well, Uhura, it seems we've found something for you to teach me if you insist on doing so. Though I warn you, I really hate doing laundry, and I will complain about it at length."

The grin on her face made one appear on his as well, and the way she stated her own flaws almost seemed like she was proud of them. It was a strange thing to observe, but it rang true for him. Why shouldn't you acknowledge both with equal candor? "I've never been into bowling, or shoveling snow, but I'm not horrible at either. I don't want you to try to keep your mouth shut around me, except if it's to tell me to shovel snow or do laundry. Never about things you believe in. As for the snowball fights, I'm afraid we're at an impasse because I've never lost one either."

Leaning over a little, he gave her an intent look,openly challenging her and knowing she couldn't step back from it. "I had a feeling you couldn't already. So I guess we'll just have to wait until it starts snowing to see who has better aim."

“My dad does the best he can,” she replied gently, wanting to defend her father even though she appreciated Jim's frustration on her behalf. “And for the most part he's always willing to hear me out, even if he doesn't always agree with me.” She bit down on the impulse to say something about Kamau; talking about her brother right now would only end up upsetting her.

As she laughed along about his inability to do laundry, she suddenly wondered how she'd become just Uhura and not Miss Uhura, but realized that she didn't at all mind. As long as he still addressed her properly in pubic there wasn't any reason to correct him, especially when she found she liked the familiarity. “Honestly Jim, doing laundry really isn't that difficult, but if you want to know how to do it properly I can teach you,” she said, trying to keep from laughing at the idea.

She didn't see any reason not to acknowledge her own flaws, though she supposed that some were more difficult to own up to than others. A more serious expression flashed across her face when he said he wanted her to speak her mind about things she believed in. She had absolutely no doubt that he meant it, and it made something in her heart loosen and breathe freely. Speaking so openly was going to take a little getting used to, but she knew she wouldn't long be able to resist the temptation to talk to someone who was as open-minded as he was.

“I hope you don't regret telling me to speak my mind,” she replied, smirking a little. The open challenge of the snow ball fight made her eyes light up a little. “You're challenging the wrong girl, Jim. Don't complain when you lose."

"I know he does," he said quietly and gave her a reassuring smile. He knew it couldn't be easy for Mr. Uhura to keep up a business and bring up a brood of children, especially without their mother there to help. "I admire him for it too, I just... I can't see how anyone wouldn't want to hear what you have to say. They have to be blind not to see how smart you are, how passionate you are about the things you believe in."

He knew he was saying too much again, but when it came to this, he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was too important that she heard someone tell her these things. He reached out to give her hand a soft squeeze and met her eyes, trying to get his message across. "You're a diamond in the rough, Miss Gorgeous. All you need is the right fit, the right setting, and you'll outshine everything around you."

Letting go of her hand and the seriousness that had settled between them, he went back to his dinner, grinning at her idea of teaching him to do laundry. "Stain removal, not laundry. I doubt you'd want to get your hands on my unmentionables," he winked and smirked around another forkful of pasta.

The spark that lit up her eyes at the challenge would probably never fail to make his stomach do that little flip it did, and his own eyes lit up in response. "Funny, I have no intention of losing, though I do think I'm challenging exactly the right girl. I'm looking forward to a victory that isn't easily won."

Edited 2010-11-04 01:30 (UTC)

She knew how difficult it was for her father, especially after he'd lost the love of his life. Her younger siblings probably couldn't remember the way he was before she died, but no matter how well he hid it Nyota could sometimes look at him and see that part of him was missing. Losing his wife had taken away some of the hope she'd always admired about him.

But now Jim was looking at her so intently and telling her what neither her father nor anyone else ever had: that he couldn't understand why someone wouldn't want to hear her speak. Her eyes dropped to his hand on hers, and she couldn't look back at him for a moment because her eyes were prickling with unshed tears. When she managed to respond, her voice was quiet. “There aren't a lot of people who think the way you do. Most don't care about anything past the fact that I'm black and female, and sometimes... I'm afraid no one ever will.”

She looked up at him, and there was a hint of confusion in her eyes, but there was hope too, or barring that at least a conviction that it was too soon to give up. “But there must be more people like you, and as long as there are there's a chance that other people's views will change too. Someday, it is going to be different...” He shoulder slumped ever so slightly. “But I don't know how it'll ever be different for me. I don't know the right setting, Jim.” She shrugged and tried to shake off the sudden seriousness. "I guess I'll just have to keep looking." It bewildered her a little that she was saying all this to him, but he'd said he wanted to hear her speak, and it was almost shockingly easy to believe he meant it.

Her smile became more genuine as he teased her about the laundry. “All right, I'll teach you how to properly remove a strain, though I do hope you're washing all your clothes properly. They won't last otherwise.”

The hint of sadness faded from her eyes as he kept challenging her. It gave her an outlet for all the frustrated energy that seemed to build up inside her, and she really couldn't back down when he was looking at her like that. “I suppose I can let you entertain delusions of victory until the match."

It made his heart clench to see how affected she was by being told something so simple, and he had a feeling no one had ever said they wanted to listen to her and meant it before. But he'd succeeded in his goal to make her open up to him, and while it pained him to hear that she had such a bleak outlook on her future, he treasured the fact that she was confiding in him.

"Most people spend their whole lives never looking beyond the tips of their own noses, they don't know what goes on in the world and they don't care. They've never seen death, they've never made a kid smile in the midst of chaos just by making a funny face. They talk about Heaven and Hell like the blind about colors, but they've never experienced either. And yet they still feel it's their right to pass judgment on others," he said gravely, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice. "You're right. I'm not most people. Not a day goes by that I'm not grateful for that."

He drummed his fingers agitatedly on the table and studied her with narrowed eyes, wondering how he could make her understand that if you didn't like your setting, you could change it. That you could find a new one and make it fit instead of forcing yourself to fit into a life that was too tight around the edges. There was a small ember of hope in her eyes, and he wanted to stoke it into a blazing fire and make her feel like nothing could stop her.

His eyes caught the flicker of the dying neon light on the roof, and he shot out of his seat and into the bathroom, plugging the bathtub and turning on the water. When he came back out, he gestured absently to his kitchen drawers. "Candles are in the third drawer, matches in the second. Light some, will you?" As she complied, he paced the floor a few times, his eyes sweeping the room searchingly until he spotted the lamp by the recliner in the corner with a triumphant "Ha!".

He took her hand and dragged her with him as he moved in on the lamp, pulling it from its place and with him into the bathroom. "See that really annoying flicker from the sign of the roof?" he asked her, not waiting for her to answer before he turned off the water in the bathtub and unceremoniously dumped the lamp into it. Sparks went flying and there was a crackle of electricity, and then everything went dark. It didn't take more than a second before loud voices were heard from down the hall, angered by the loss of electricity, and Jim grinned at Uhura and shrugged. "It's been driving me crazy for weeks. Problem solved, settings changed, and I'll have no epilepsy-inducing flickering keeping me from getting a good nights sleep tonight."

Her eyes were focused on his face as he spoke about death and children smiling in the middle of chaos. They weren't the words of someone who'd lived an ordinary life, and she wondered what it was he had seen. She didn't know what to make of the fact that she envied him that vision. He'd clearly seen things that were heartbreaking and painful, but at this point anything felt better than ignorance.

For a moment he seemed to be considering something and then he jumped up and ran into the bathroom. She stared after him, confused when she heard the bathtub turn on. He asked her to light candles, and though she had no idea what he was thinking she walked over to the kitchen lit a candle. She was glancing around in hopes of finding a candlestick when Jim grabbed her hand and pulled her and the lamp into the bathroom.

She still wasn't sure where he was going with all this until he tossed the lamp into the bathtub. She jerked back slightly as sparks went flying, and then everything went dark. The only light remaining was the candle in her hand. For a long moment she just blinked in surprise, trying to process what had just happened.

And then she cracked up. She had to lean against the wall for support, pressing a hand to her face as she nearly collapsed in peals of laughter. Jim was completely and utterly ridiculous, but he'd just effectively shown her that if you wanted to transform your world, it might be as simple as that. It took her a few moments to quell her laughter long enough to actually say anything. “And just like that our whole world changes,” she said, feeling more relaxed than she could remember feeling in a long time. She smiled fondly at him, watching the candlelight flicker across his face. “I take it back. I don't think there's anyone like you, Jim,” she said, still laughing. She let out a long breath. “I didn't mean to sound so morose. I'm not about to give up so easily on finding my own happiness. And as for my setting.. I'm here with you, aren't I? Learning to dance and watching you short-circuit your building's electricity. And hopefully next week I'll be singing during business hours at the diner.” Her smile turned slightly contemplative. “I'm not going to be able to do everything I wish I could, but I'm going to learn to dance, and maybe... Maybe there's hope for the rest of it, as well.”

She couldn't quite voice her other wishes aloud, because she wasn't sure how much hope there really was, but something about Jim's antics made her want to believe that it was. For the moment, however, she was sure of one thing: she was going to treasure this strange memory. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed quite this hard. “Jim, are we going to continue the dance lesson in the dark?"

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