From K.A.Light@qmw.ac.uk Tue Dec 24 16:48:06 1996
Date: Fri, 20 Sep 1996 14:24:00 GMT
From: K.A.Light@qmw.ac.uk
To: b5-creative@lists.best.com
Subject: Garibaldi and the Gnome 1/1

O.K. folks, I have lurked on this list long enough. Here is my burnt,
sorry, first, offering.

It takes place just after DIVIDED LOYALTIES, so spoilers for any
poor souls who haven't seen the final five of  SEASON 2 yet.

Any comments would be appreciated, either to me or the list, I'm not
fussy.

S
E
A
S
O
N
 
T
W
O

S
E
A
S
O
N
 
T
W
O




                     GARIBALDI AND THE GNOME

    "Morning!"
    "Morning," muttered Garibaldi and turned over to bury his 
face in the pillow. "Urrgh!" seconds later he sprang up and  
lunged for his PPG. Garibaldi knew it was a joke among station 
security that he was so paranoid he slept with a weapon by his 
bed, but he was going to have the last laugh on this one. He 
grinned evilly as he squinted down his line of fire, to find his 
PPG trained on .... a small gnome. Garibaldi considered the 
situation carefully. Upon reflection it was his firm opinion that 
he would have been expecting a crazed lunatic, possibly of the 
murdering variety, possibly a member of his own squad with a 
death wish. What he would not have expected was a gnome. 
    "You're not a morning person, are you?" observed his 
visitor. 
    "What the ....?" spluttered Garibaldi. "How did you get in 
here?"
    "Oh, you know ..." replied the gnome evasively.
    "No, I don't!"
    "Ah well, we all have our own doorways."
    Garibaldi groaned and lay back on his pillow. There was 
really little point in training a PPG on someone who could have 
killed him as he slept. This was no surprised intruder; this was 
some godforsaken gnome who had shimmied in through solid walls 
and had  probably been there half the night, twitching those 
pointed ears  of his and watching Garibaldi sleep. Garibaldi 
hoped he had been suitably interesting. *Ears?*
    "You have pointy ears," Garibaldi levered himself up onto an 
elbow and stared at the gnome afresh.
    "Do they not suit me?" the gnome twitched an ear and 
scratched the side of his head self-consciously.
    "Well whether they do or not I think you may be stuck with 
them," muttered Garibaldi sardonically. "The point is that you 
are a gnome and gnomes do not have pointy ears. Elves have pointy 
ears."
    "Then perhaps I am an elf"
    "Nope, you're way too ugly!"
    "Thanks," replied the gnome cheerfully.
    "That was meant to be an insult," Garibaldi lowered his feet 
to the floor as he spoke. He really didn't have time for 
conversations like this. The gnome/elf/whatever was obviously the 
product of a brain shaken too roughly from  blissful sleep. If he 
went on talking to non-existent persons like this he was going to 
get himself a reputation.
    "I am going to shave and have a shower," he announced to his 
fevered imagination. "And when I come back this misfit will have 
gone. Is that understood?" he turned and stumped off in the 
direction of the bathroom.


    Interestingly, Susan Ivanova was having not dissimilar 
problems. 
    "How did you get in here?" she asked the teddy bear that sat 
on the edge of a table, nonchalantly swinging its rather stubby 
legs. 
    "Oh, I just thought you needed a hand!"
    "That answer bears no relation at all to the question I just 
asked," replied Ivanova sternly. "And help with what?"
    "Oh, you know, just things," replied the bear evasively.
    "I should blow your stuffing all over these quarters," 
muttered Ivanova by way of reply and stumped off in the direction 
of her bathroom. 
    "Stuffing?" mused the bear.
    "Why me?" Susan wondered as she cleaned her teeth. It was a 
ritual she carried out with obsessive thoroughness: partly out of 
respect for her teeth but mainly to delay the start of the 
morning. She leant heavily on the sink and stared at her grumpy 
face in the mirror.
    "Why me, eh?" she had been wondering that so much lately. Of 
course everyone on the station had their problems at the moment, 
hell the *universe* had its problems at the moment, but she felt 
particularly persecuted. All that wasted time and then, just as 
she was getting to know Talia ..... Susan gripped the side of the 
washbasin and returned to cleaning her teeth with an energy that 
would have sent any self respecting plaque diving for cover. 
Susan wasn't sure which hurt most, the loss of a friend or the 
sense of betrayal. She rinsed out her toothbrush and then stuck 
it back in her mouth gnawing incessantly at the bristles as  she 
stood, arms folded, frowning at the mirror.
    When Talia first arrived on the station things had been 
simple. Susan knew her dislike of the woman was based entirely on 
prejudice but it was a prejudice with which she felt comfortable. 
Things had changed oh so slowly but a friendship that long in the 
making was not easy in the breaking. Talia might be with Psi-
corps but she was not stupid, Susan had come to see that. It was 
good to have a female friend in a place where so many of her 
associates were male. Much as she appreciated people like 
Sheridan and Garibaldi sometimes you just needed a little girl 
talk. Of course there was Delenn, but .... Susan gnawed her lower 
lip and the toothbrush finally gave up its perilous hold on 
existence How could she have been so stupid? She had *trusted* a 
*telepath* for heavens sake. Oh sure, there was Talia and there 
was Talia but how much difference did it really make? They were 
both Psi-corps. Even if Talia had been unaware of her other half, 
what was the betting she approved of the concept? As far as 
Ivanova was concerned that made her as guilty as if she had 
planned the whole thing. Besides, how could she be sure Talia 
hadn't scanned her as she slept. Maybe Psi-corps already knew 
about her! Susan hastily shut her mind to this possibility: the 
idea was too terrifying. She moved on to other grouses as she 
gathered up broken bits of toothbrush, there was Garibaldi for a 
start! 

    Garibaldi let out a yelp and stared in disbelief at the 
blood. It was pretty hard to cut yourself with a 23rd century 
razor! He turned and fixed the gnome with a hard stare.
    "You were supposed to stay in the other room until you 
disappeared back into my imagination," he pointed out testily. 
The gnome leant against the doorjamb and watched him curiously. 
Garibaldi turned back to the mirror and made a few half-hearted 
swipes at his face. Finally tension got the better of him. 
    "Well, don't just stand there staring at me. Say something, 
even if its inscrutable"
    "You seem distressed."
    "I said inscrutable, not stupid!" retorted Garibaldi. "Look, 
just what are you doing here?"
    "Thought I was a figment of your imagination, *you* should 
know," the gnome seemed to delight in being perverse.
    "You are!" replied Garibaldi, meaningfully. He squatted down 
so that he could argue at eye level with the intruder. "But even 
figments have a purpose in life." The gnome considered this for a 
moment, scratched the side of his nose and finally plunged his 
hands into the pockets of his blue and gold waistcoat before 
replying.
    "I guess I'm here to make contact."
    "With whom?" Garibaldi was exasperated.
    "With you!"
    "Well you have accomplished that," pointed out Garibaldi. 
"And if you hang around much longer you may make contact with the 
end of my fist."
    "You have a very .... abrasive personality," announced the 
gnome brightly.
    "And you have a very perceptive one," retorted Garibaldi. 
"Now, what are you doing here?" Garibaldi laid aside his razor 
and fixed his visitor with a steely glare to indicate that 
playful social discourse was over. The gnome obligingly produced 
a serious expression and attached it to his face. Garibaldi was 
momentarily distracted by this. He couldn't believe the 
expression really belonged to the gnome: he looked as if he had 
borrowed it from a friend and wasn't sure which way up to wear 
it. In spite of himself Garibaldi felt his mood lift a little. He 
intensified his stare; after all he had a reputation to maintain. 
    "You have had a falling out with a friend," explained the 
gnome. Garibaldi sighed.


    "I *know* he was upset too. He liked Talia, but he was 
supposed to be *my* friend," Susan was not at all sure why she 
was talking to the bear. There was just something so appealing 
about the round, unblinking eyes as they stared at her. 

    When Susan returned to the main living space of her quarters 
the bear was still there. 
    "I need to get at those draws," she informed her visitor, 
staring pointedly at the furry legs dangling over the side of the 
table.
    "Uh? Oh, sorry," the bear peered between its knees for a 
moment, realised that it was indeed obstructing the draws and 
jumped off the table to land on the floor with a soft thud. Susan 
 bit her lip to hold back a smile. There was something strangely 
endearing about the noise the creature made as it hit the floor. 
The bear looked around for somewhere new to perch and decided on 
the bed. Ivanova turned to retrieve articles from the recently 
vacated furniture and so she heard, rather then saw, her 
visitor's attempts to seat himself. The sound of paws scrabbling 
on a duvet, a muffled 'Harrumph' of effort, and then a soft thump 
accompanied by a low yelp as bear made contact with floor. Susan 
suppressed a chuckle of sympathy and buried herself further in 
the drawer. Scuffle, harrumph, thump ..... scuffle, harrumpf, 
thump ... scuffle, harrumpf ... After the third unsuccessful 
effort Susan could restrain herself no longer. She turned to see 
the bear sitting on the floor and staring at the bed with a 
slightly pained expression on its face. 
    "Can I help?" Susan walked over and grabbed the bear firmly 
round the waist in order to pick him up. She was momentarily 
nonplussed by the warmth and furriness of the creature's body. He 
felt just as a well stuffed bear should do, only alive. The bear 
wrapped its arms and legs around her like a trusting child and 
Susan had to resist the impulse to just stand there and hug it. 
She placed the bear on the bed and it wriggled happily as it made 
itself comfortable.
    "Thanks," it said, grinning impishly and then staring 
ingenuously at her. It was at this stage that Ivanova felt 
compelled to explain why she had just had to dispose of her 
toothbrush.

    "I never expected bear-hugs and 'come tell me all about 
it'," Susan paused, the look on her face suggesting that such 
behaviour from Garibaldi would not only be totally out of 
character but distressingly so. "But the way he's not talking to 
me at all! He blames me, I can tell. I mean what the hell was I 
supposed to do? Wave a magic wand and make it all right again? I 
had no more idea than anyone else what was going on. And yet that 
son of a bitch is pissed off at *me*!"
    "And you are not altogether happy with him?" his paws folded 
demurely in his lap, a quizzical expression on his face, the bear 
looked up at her.
    "Well, do you blame me?" Susan knelt down in an attempt to  
establish eye contact and raised her hands, palms upward, in a 
gesture of resignation and appeal. The bear looked down at her 
paternally: his position on the bed actually placed him just 
above eye level. 
    "It sounds to me like a classic case of miss-communication. 
He may be angry at you simply for not talking to him, the way you 
are at him for the same crime." The bear placed both paws on the 
bed, either side of his seat and began to swing his legs while 
looking down at her expectantly. Susan found these sudden changes 
in mood, from paternal to childlike, rather disconcerting. Just 
as she felt able to give her furry friend a hard time for 
lecturing her his demeanour would change, making her feel it 
would be like harassing a small child. 
    "Uh, look, I have to go now," and it was the truth, Susan 
realized. She was going to be late for her shift. She rose from 
her knees and finished donning her uniform. The bear said no more 
but remained on the bed, swinging its legs. When she was ready to 
leave Ivanova turned to her new friend, curiously unsure what to 
do next. What she ought to do, what she ought to have done some 
time ago, was to call security and have the furry fiend escorted 
to somewhere cold and secure. That was what she would have done 
at any other time, but today was different. The warmth of the 
creatures fur had melted something inside her, something that 
hurt, but, well maybe .... The bear, seeing that Susan was ready, 
jumped off the bed landing with his usual soft thump and stood 
with his hands clasped behind his back.
    "Um," said Susan. "I have to go now."
    "So do I."
    "You do?"
    "I have a friend to meet," he explained.
    "A friend? You mean there are more like you?"
    "Well, not *exactly* like me but same kind of idea." 
    Ivanova didn't really understand but decided that confusion 
was the least  of her problems when she was talking to stuffed 
animals that broke into her quarters in the middle of the night. 
She paused, half expecting him to wander off through a wall, but 
he didn't so she moved over to open the door. In the corridor she 
turned and looked down.
    "Err, nice to meet you. See you around!"
    "Oh I'm sure you will!"
    "I will?"  Ivanova was not sure if this was a good thing or 
not. 
    "Bound to!" with this farewell the bear turned and pattered 
off down the corridor, his footfalls muffled little thuds on the 
metal floor. Stunned for a second, Ivanova watched until he 
reached the end of the corridor. As he turned to vanish out of 
sight round a corner he turned and waved. Feeling intensely 
foolish, Susan waved back.
    As Ivanova tried to collect herself Lt. Corwin rounded the 
corner from the direction in which the bear had disappeared. 
Susan caught her breath.
    "Um, have you just seen .....?" she began. Corwin raised a 
questioning eyebrow. Ivanova thought better of the rest of the 
sentence.
    "Uh, never mind," she waved her hand in a  dismissive manner 
and stalked off. Corwin watched her go, pondering silently.



    "You know what I think!"
    "Yup," replied Garibaldi. "I do. You have told me several 
times because you can't take a hint." The gnome sighed and 
plunged his hands deeper into the pockets of his waistcoat. 
    "You have to talk to her."
    "No, she has to talk to me. I'm not going to do some social 
worker impression and seek her out to harass her about personal 
problems. Is she wants to talk she knows where I am. If she 
doesn't want to share, that's fine," Garibaldi hrrumphed as he 
fastened his collar. "We both knew Talia and we both have the 
right to deal with this in our own way."
    "Why not together?" persisted the gnome.
    "Look, she doesn't want to talk to me, OK!" Garibaldi was 
exasperated and he was going to be late. He should have known 
better than to listen to a gaudily dressed midget. For a while 
there in the bathroom he thought the intruder was going to say 
something useful. Then he launched into all that shit about how 
he should go talk to Susan, how she probably misunderstood his 
silence. All the rubbish Stephen and  John were giving him: if 
he'd heard it once .....
    "Out, now!" he suggested, standing in the open doorway. "And 
I just want to make it quite clear that the only reason security 
is not here is because of the inevitable embarrassment 
surrounding the acquisition of a reputation for being the kind of 
man who has gnomes in his quarters. If I ever see you in here 
again I shall manfully swallow my pride and have you carted off 
to somewhere uncomfortable, OK?"
    "OK," replied the gnome and vanished.


    Garibaldi sat alone at the bar in the Zocalo and frowned 
morosely into his non-alcoholic drink. He had tried to persuade 
Sheridan to come out but the Captain apparently had other plans. 
Possibly ones to do with Delenn. Sheesh, everyone seemed to have 
someone except him. He was sure Sheridan would have spent some 
time with him if he had pushed, the captain had seemed distracted 
rather then resolute, but it was not in Garibaldi's nature to cry 
for help. He sighed into his drink and began to wish he had given 
in to his frailties. He was so cocooned in his misery that he 
didn't notice Ivanova until he heard her order her favourite. He 
started and Ivanova turned to notice him for the first time, she 
too had been cut off from the world.
    "Uh, hi!" Ivanova didn't sound happy to see him so Garibaldi 
merely grunted in reply and flashed a smile that hardly reached 
his lips. Ivanova drummed her fingers nervously on the table 
while she waited for her drink, then turned to survey the Zocalo, 
looking for a free table. Her luck was out, the bar was crowded. 
She turned to face Garibaldi.
    "Looks like you're stuck with me."
    "I can cope."
    "I shan't disturb you," Ivanova promised and descended into  
her drink.
    /Aw shit!/ thought Garibaldi miserably and prayed for a 
diversion. Given his lack of faith in a higher being he was 
suitably surprised when his prayers were answered. Pity it had to 
be in that particular manner, though. The kind of diversion he 
had had in mind had been blonde and friendly, instead he got a 
gnome.
    "Hello again!" called the gnome, before disappearing beneath 
a furious ball of fur.
    "Hi!" called the ball of fur, before sinking its teeth into 
the gnome.
    "Uhh .." Garibaldi was nonplussed but only as much as 
Ivanova, as he discovered when he turned to face her, trying to  
think of a plausible way to disassociate himself from the 
situation.
    "You know these guys?" Garibaldi tried to sound nonchalant
    "Errm, well I wouldn't say *know*, exactly," Ivanova was 
squinting at the flailing mass.  "But, um, well, I sort of came 
across the furry one this morning."
    "In your quarters by any chance?" Ivanova gave Garibaldi a 
stern look. "It's just I kinda *came across* the ugly one in my 
quarters this morning."
    "And you didn't have security cart him away?" Ivanova was 
incredulous.
    "I, uh, wasn't myself this morning."
    "You haven't been yourself for some time," Ivanova commented 
pointedly. Garibaldi had the grace to look abashed. He grinned 
weakly.
    "Mind you, whatever it is is contagious" he countered.
    "Hrrmph!" replied Ivanova and stared fixedly at the flailing 
fur. Garibaldi relaxed a little: trading insults was not exactly 
a full-scale reconciliation but at least it felt normal.
    "Do you think we should break it up?" he queried.
    "You're security!" retorted Ivanova. "You decide!" They 
stood side by side for a moment, watching bear and gnome roll 
about the floor. Neither of them particularly wanted to take 
action; the air hummed quietly with the feeling of a temporary 
truce. Distracted by someone else's problems, they had no need to 
confront their own. A small crowd had gathered to place bets and 
cheer on the fighting. Inevitably a security guard rolled up. He 
strode over to the two combatants then stopped when he saw 
Garibaldi. 
    "Uh, oh sorry, sir. I didn't realize you were here."
    "I'm off duty," explained Garibaldi. Ivanova was shocked. 
Garibaldi was *never* off duty. She said as much.
    "I'm not the only one," he replied evenly. Touche. They both 
 looked enquiringly at the stunned security guard who felt that 
some action was now expected of him. He turned to the scene of 
the fight, ready to wade in but there was no need. The punch up 
had been losing momentum for some time and the partners finally 
separated, to lie side by side on the floor panting with 
exhaustion. The gnome had gone bright red with effort and the 
bear looked ruffled and crumpled, fur sticking up in all 
directions, but neither seemed particularly hurt. The bear lay 
there, arms spread-eagled, breathing hard and gently flexing his 
feet as if in the afterglow of strenuous exercise. The gnome 
levered himself up onto his elbows and fixed Garibaldi and 
Ivanova with an inquisitive stare. 
    "Well, are you guys talking to each other yet or do we have 
to go another round?" he huffed. The bear groaned in mock protest 
at the suggestion. 
    "Uh?" replied Graibaldi and Ivanova simultaneously.
    "Don't say all this was for nothing," pleaded the bear. "I'm 
 not in the shape I used to be." Garibaldi glared suspiciously at 
the gnome. 
    "Remember what I said this morning?"
    "Ah, but I'm not in your quarters," the gnome wagged an  
admonitory finger. "This is a public place."
    "Uh, Chief?" asked the guard.
    "Oh? Er yes, I have everything under control."
    "I thought you were off duty," commented the officer 
cautiously.
    "Uh, yeh, well these are .... *acquaintances*!"
    "Um, right," the guard was not at all sure about this. 
Garibaldi had been acting strange ever since that incident with 
the telepath, but an order was an order and that *had* been an 
order, notwithstanding the lack of formality. Garibaldi watched 
the guard's departure.
    "You guys going to explain?" he asked at length.
    "You guys going to get us a drink?" suggested the gnome.
    "McTavish!!" remonstrated the bear.
    "Chill, Elkinirt. It's a local custom. *I* did my homework!
    "Elkinirt?" Susan felt this was a strange name for a bear. 
The bear obviously agreed because he blushed. Susan had never 
seen a bear blush before. It had been a day of new experiences.
    "Um, well, my Mum, you know." Susan didn't but decided to 
put the issue on the 'topics for later' list. 
    "So what do you guys drink?" asked Garibaldi.
    "Whatever you're having," answered McTavish.
    "How do you know what they're having?" asked Elkinirt in a 
worried aside. "It could be anything!"
    "It's another local custom," the gnome assured him. "Stop 
worrying." Garibaldi caught the barman's attention.
    "Another two of what she's having," he nodded at Ivanova who 
raised her eyebrows.
    "How do you know they're not like the Minbari?"
    "Only one way to find out," grinned Garibaldi.
    "You're evil," replied Ivanova.
    "Thanks." 
    The drinks arrived, McTavish and Elkinirt grinned broadly 
and approached the bar.
    "Ah....," said Elkinirt as he gazed straight ahead at a 
portion of the bar level with Garibaldi's knees. Garibaldi and 
Ivanova looked at each other above the heads of their small 
acquaintances.
    "O.K.," sighed Ivanova. Bending down she grabbed Elkinirt 
round the waist and hoicked him up to sit on the bar. Elkinirt 
wriggled in her grasp. Ivanova giggled warmly. 
    "Hey, get a grip," she protested.
    "How come you always get the cuddly assignments?" complained 
Garibaldi with mock seriousness as he plonked McTavish on the bar 
beside Elkinirt.
    "Just my luck, I guess," suggested Ivanova, reluctantly 
relinquishing her grip on the bear. "Let's face it, I should be 
due some luck about now," she cupped her chin in her hands and 
watched Elkinirt attack the drink with gusto. 
    "You and the world!" pointed out Garibaldi.
    "Yup," answered Ivanova. She didn't move: her stare had 
become fixed and her voice tight. It was that damned bear, she 
thought. All warm and cuddly in a cold and uncuddly world. 
Garibaldi had a nasty feeling he ought to say something but he 
wasn't sure what. He returned to staring at his own drink and 
nearly fell off his bar stool. McTavish was not a pretty sight 
under any circumstances but seen through a half full glass he was 
horrendous. Garibaldi collected himself and glared silently. 
McTavish stared back menaingfully. Garibaldi sighed and turned to 
Ivanova to find her regarding him sheepishly.
    "Um, look I'm sorry ...." they both began, then laughed 
nervously. Elkinirt and McTavish watched them expectantly,  
Elkinirt absently licking drops of alcohol from the fur on his 
muzzle. Garibaldi cleared his throat.
    "Look, I know I haven't been .... um..." he scratched the 
side of his head.
    "Supportive, helpful, friendly?" Ivanova suggested, only 
half joking.
    "Yeh, right. But you haven't been exactly approachable," he 
added defensively.
    "I've been upset!" protested Ivanova.
    "We all have," replied Garibaldi in his best soothing voice.
    "I know," Ivanova sighed. "It's just, well... recent events 
have been traumatic in more ways than one." Garibaldi thought 
about the moment when Lyta accused Ivanova of blocking her scan. 
He took a long pull of his drink and raised his head to find 
Ivanova scrutinizing him intently. Garibaldi coloured. It wasn't 
that he didn't trust Ivanova. It was that he didn't trust 
anybody. It was his job not to trust people.... but he was off 
duty now. It was not as if his own past was spotless but then he 
made no secret of it, well he hardly had a choice. He looked up 
at Ivanova again and remembered the last time he hadn't trusted 
her; those illicit messages she was sending over gold channel.... 
to her dying father. He felt thoroughly ashamed. Hell, he  really 
*did* trust her, he thought. If she had her secrets, and who 
didn't, she probably had her reasons for them. He reached out and 
laid a hand on her arm. For a second Ivanova tensed. //Shit//, 
thought Garibaldi. //What did she think he was going to do? 
Arrest her?// No, paranoia was *his* job. She was probably 
startled by the sudden act of friendship after all this time. He 
opened his mouth and his brain fell out. Garibaldi cursed 
internally. Why was he so bad at this? He withdrew his hand and 
clenched it, tapping the side of his fist on the table in an 
unconscious representation of words that wouldn't come.
    "Uh, shit, Susan," he said at last. "I'm no good at this, 
but I'm sorry. Truce?" Ivanova grinned suddenly.
    "O.K, but it's your round again!"
    McTavish and Elkinirt sent up a slightly slurred cheer.
    "That reminds me," said Garibaldi. "You were going to 
explain."
    "Ah, yes. Oh excuse me!" burped McTavish. Elkinirt rolled 
his eyes and had to be steadied by Susan to ensure his body 
didn't follow suit. 
    "This is the first time we have visited this part of the 
galaxy," McTavish explained. "And we have strict first contact 
protocols..."

    "So all your behaviour has been a ploy directed at Garibaldi 
and myself?" Even after several explanations Susan was not 
entirely sure she understood what was going on. "Why us?"
    "Implicit in the protocol is the assumption that ambassadors 
will attempt the most difficult situation available. This not 
only allows us to learn a great deal about the race we have 
contacted but makes the present of happiness of greater value.
    "So by picking on us you have brought as much gold, 
frankincense and myrrh as you could carry, so to speak?" Ivanova 
smiled archly.
    "Your reconciliation seems to us to be of great value," 
responded Elkinirt seriously.
    "Don't be so sure you've succeeded!" warned Garibaldi, 
grinning. Ivanova ignored him and passed on to the next point 
that worried her.
    "So if the way you appear to us is an embodiment of what you 
sense in our subconscious, what do you *really* look like?"
    "There is no really," explained the bear. "We mutate from 
situation to situation. When we are alone we generally retain the 
form of last contact. Why do anything else?"
    "You don't have a ... preferred form, then?" asked 
Garibaldi.
    "Not really, though I have to say I enjoyed being a bear, 
You seem to get very positive responses from people." Ivanova 
blushed. 
    "I don't," McTavish stared hard at Garibaldi.
    "So is *that* your subconscious then?" said Ivanova, with a 
sly grin at Garibaldi.
    "I deny all responsibility for *that*!" protested Garibaldi, 
pointing at the smirking gnome.  "Anyway, what do you expect from 
first thing in the morning?"
    "Remind me never to find out! Another drink, Elkinirt?"
    "Sure! Thanks," shuffle, slide, thump. "Aaah!"

The end