Little Lottie’s Night In

Posted on Fri Nov 25th, 2022 @ 3:54pm by Immy & Lottie

Mission: S1 Episode 4: The Cloud
Location: Slave Quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 2130
5839 words - 11.7 OF Standard Post Measure

They day hadn't been longer or shorter than any other day, for a slave like her, it was just normal.

Lottie could tell there was some new excitement about the ship but she had only picked up a few things in passing. They were in some sort of nebula and planning to do some mining operations in it, but more than that she had no idea. It wasn't really her place to know either. She had spent her day dutifully focusing on her tasks, a trait which had earned her the position of One, the highest ranking slave on the ship. She had done a deep cleaning of the CO's quarters while both he and Commander Petrova were absent on a long day of business. She'd then taken to cleaning Yana's office. The rest of the day had been spent of various mundane tasks and deliveries. While most slaves resented their work, she found fulfillment in it.

It had been the only thing she had known in life after all.

She was laying in her bunk with the light set to dim reading off of a PADD one of her small collection of books she had been permitted. Harmless fantasy novels, but she thoroughly enjoyed the stories. When a slave was as good and devoted as Lottie was, there were always moments of special treatment given. It had been that way for her since she had been a child and she continued to serve just as faithfully in her new home. She lowered the PADD down to her chest briefly and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

The doors parted and in walked the Second in a brown shawl barely covering her too-tight green sequined top and flashy skirt. Immy doffed the shawl and placed it on the nearby table. This room they dated had been given to them by Yana Petrova and was significantly more comfortable than the other rooms, and had no men to disturb them. It was an obvious statement of favor from the slave mistress, one she was happy to accept. She looked at Lottie with a curious expression. Reading again..how boring.

“Sorry it took me a while. I was held up by Jasper.” She said, irreverently referring to him by his first name. “He was still working in the command office.”

“Oh.” Lottie frowned immediately and pulled herself to sit up and swung her legs out of the bunk so she could turn and face Immy. “Are you alright?” The note of concern in her voice was genuine and she looked over Immy carefully to make sure she hadn’t been mistreated.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Immy responded with a shrug. “He was kind and didn’t seem to want to do anything but talk. In fact, at the end, he told me he would vouch for me if I was troubled for being out of quarters.”

“Oh?” Lottie said again, though this time the note was more surprised and curious than concerned. “Well that was kind of him. Did you find your hairbrush?”

“I did.” Immy said, grinning and going to her drawer. She placed the brush inside and removed a bottle of brown liquid which was already half gone. “He touched my chin, but nothing else. Though the eyes wandered several times.”

Anyone could see that the memory didn’t make her anxious or uncomfortable, but clearly proud and a bit excited.

It didn’t really make sense to Lottie why Immy seemed to crave attention - especially that kind - but she also wasn’t one to judge. Her blue eyes settled on the older woman’s outfit and her expression pinched slightly, but she relaxed it soon after.

“Did you… like that?” She asked slowly almost as if she were concerned it was an inappropriate thing to even broach.

“Of course I like it.” Immy responded, sitting in Lottie’s bed next to her and crossing her legs. “I like any kind of attention, though. I always have. Call it a fatal flaw.”

Immy’s attitude was nonchalant and didn’t seem to be overly analytical on her own part.

“When a man likes you, he does things for you, Lottie. You have to know that.”

“Um well I‘ve heard that, yes, but I’ve never really um…” Lottie hesitated and played with her own fingers a bit. “I guess I’ve never really needed that. My masters have always been kind enough to me themselves.”

“We can’t all be so proper.” Immy said, the slightest hint of meanness in her voice, but she certainly didn’t lay it on thick. She placed a hand on Lottie’s leg. “And people appreciate at slave like you. Reliable, groomed, predictable, and completely submissive. I mean, you’re basically the perfect tool.”

Lottie was quiet for a long moment and sat there with a frown on her full, defined lips. Eventually she did speak quietly though not without at least a bit of conviction. “Imogen… please don’t be mean to me,” she asked. “I wasn’t lucky like you to be born free.”

Immy frowned at that, not one of sadness but one of irritation. Of course she felt superior to the girl, because she was by blood if not by rank, but her response was not out of spite.

“You have no idea what it’s like to have your freedom taken from you again. To go from being a pretty Terran girl, the life of the party to…a nobody.” Immy said, feeling immediately sorry for herself, but more like an adult than a petulant child. “Learning to call everyone master and groveling like a dog. Not even being allowed to look people in the eyes when you’re talking to them or not being allowed to tell someone to go fuck themselves when they say something you don’t like. There’s nothing lucky about that.”

“No, I’m sure that is an awful, terrible feeling and I am sorry for that. It isn’t one I’ll ever know.” She reached out and put a hand on Immy’s knee. Lottie was ever kind, even to someone like Immy. “But you will be free again one day soon and then you can go give all those people the what for.”

Her workmate was frustratingly obedient to the status quo, but Immy couldn’t ignore how fantastically sweet she could be. Despite her own defensiveness, she couldn’t help by smile.

“You’re kind of amazing sometimes, Lottie.” She said with a smile. “Now let’s get drunk, crank the tunes, and dance. We can pretend we’re free.”

“Oh… um…” Lottie frowned and glanced around nervously. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” Immy asked, giving her an expression like she was strange and unscrewing the bottle.

The young woman looked to Immy like she had grown another head. “Because it’s late and we have to do work tomorrow?” She asked as if this were obvious. “Don’t people usually feel bad after they get drunk?”

“Not when they drink with me.” Immy said with the cheekiest of grins before tipping the bottle back and taking a healthy swig. She then forced it into Lottie’s hands, her own lips still moist from the liquid. “Now drink before I get a funnel.”

“But I…” Lottie sighed and looked down at the bottle. The most she had ever had was a few sips of wine during Carnivale and Saturnalia. She was a good and obedient slave and this didn’t feel particularly good nor obedient. She was mildly afraid that Immy actually would try to force it down her throat though and that sounded highly unpleasant. Bringing the bottle to her lips, she took a very small sip and immediately made a face; she put the bottle back into Immy’s hands. “Gods that’s so gross why does it burn like that?”

“That’s the feeling of the pain going away, baby.” Immy answered and took another healthy drink herself. She didn’t respond to the burn with any more than a slight wince. She gave it back to Lottie again, this time with a warmer smile. “Come on Lot. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’ve never been told I was particularly fun.” She said with a frown and an expression that said she wasn’t entirely sure if that was something she should be bothered by or not. Looking down at the bottle, she braved another sip and frowned deeper. “That’s still gross.”

“That’s because your drinking it like a baby.” Immy said. “Here, let me help.”

Immy then lifted the bottle to Lottie’s lips and, having quickly parted them with the lip of the glass bottle, tipped it back far, being careful not to spill.

There was really no time for Lottie to react or fight back as Immy forced the bottle to her lips. Her bright blue eyes simply widened as way too much of the alcohol rushed into her mouth. She did have the good sense to grab the bottle by the neck and pull it up so it would stop pouring instead of knocking it away and with her other hand she covered her own mouth and nose to force herself to swallow. Once she did, she gave a small cry of distress and closed her eyes. She grabbed her throat, “Oh gods… Immy, why?”

“We’ll talk about it in a few minutes.” Immy said with no sense of pause or remorse and then drank the same amount herself. She stood up then and set the bottle down on the floor. Then she thought, wandering back and forth a bit. “What do you dance to when I leave the room?”

She asked, assuming everyone did just that when they were alone.

Lottie eyed the offensive bottle like it was some sort of weapon and then looked up to Immy. “I don’t dance… I read?” She tilted her head slightly. “Should I dance? I’ve never given it much thought.”

Immy rolled her eyes and smiled. The expression was quite cute, even as she nodded and sat back down next to Lottie.

“Yes, Lot, of course. But we can get to that when the drink catches up to you. I can already feel it.” She said. She reached for the bottle and picked it up again, taking another big drink.

"Well, alright I guess." Lottie paused and looked at her hands, rubbing her fingertips together a bit. "I feel funny. My fingers are tingling."

Immy smiled even brighter than before and handed Lottie the bottle again. She’d never had a little sister and, quite frankly, she’d roomed with a hundred other slave girls a thousand times more interesting than Lottie, but she was hoping to make the best of things as they were, and her best chance of that, she thought, was as a big sister.

“Drink more and you won’t notice that anymore.” She said, giggling girlishly.

Lottie nearly dropped the bottle as she was given it once more, but she managed to save it. She took a small sip and looked over toward Immy; she could have sworn she saw the other slave eyeballing her, so to save herself the pain of the liquid being poured down her throat, she drank more.

“Um, what is this, exactly?” She asked and looked at the bottle again.

“A whiskey I…was gifted.” Immy said, looking less than innocent as she turned her head to the side and winked. She stole it, of course, but Lottie was the last person who needed to know that. “It’s not very good, but it does the trick.”

The redhead eyed her spotted workmate with curious interest, acting a bit strange as the alcohol caught up to her.

“How in the hell did you get this far without drinking, Lottie?”

"Well... I was young and then when I was given to the fleet in service, they don't really allow slaves to drink." Lottie noted and with it she looked to Immy with mild suspicion. Perhaps even sweet Lottie didn't believe the drink was gifted, but Lottie also knew better than to ask questions.

"I've had wine before. I don't like it."

“You’ll change your mind in a few years.” Immy said with a nod. “We aren’t allowed to buy alcohol. Technically, drinking is okay if it’s given to us by an officer. So, in other words, we’re fine, right?”

“Yes… if it was given by an officer…” Lottie replied in what might have been a very pointed reply from others, but judging by the look on Lottie’s face and the slight drunken bobbing of her head, the young woman was simply agreeing. “I don’t like wine.” She repeated.

“We’ll have to work on that too then, won’t we?” Immy asked. Then she went over to a small nearby computer terminal and activated the sound system for the room. The information and audio settings on the device were limited, of course, to keep the slaves in line, but they were at least able to listen to music at a reasonable volume. Immy turned on an Irish reel, the kind they played at Carnival when she was growing up and everyone would dance in the streets, and on corners, and in their homes. The memory was sweet for her; one of freedom. She started to dance to the music, a basic step that was typically impressive to people not from Ireland, a smile creeping across her face.

She had been about to reply, but Lottie's attention was quickly taken by the music. It was fast paced and made one want to get up and dance. She thought about it while she took another sip of the alcohol still in her hands but then became quite enraptured by watching Immy's feet as she moved. She smiled brightly.

"Wow, you're really good at that."

Immy just smiled brightly and turned her head as she danced. She continued to move her feet quickly to the best of the music, taping specific dynamic rhythms onto the deck plating and generating percussive metal thuds with the soles of her bare feet. Gradually the music got faster and louder and so, in kind, her speed and movements intensified until she was moving smoothly enough to boggle the mind of some. The movement was intense enough to set her chest in noticeable motion as well and the too-tight sparkly top threatened to lose containment. Before they did, however, the music stopped and so did the dancer. Breathing deeply, she looked at Lottie and chuckled lightheartedly.

“My mother taught me.” She said, grabbing the bottle out of Lottie’s hand and taking another drink. “We should do something you can do.”

Lottie gasped and once the bottle was moved safely away, she clapped her hands excitedly for Immy’s display. Immy would know it was genuine as Lottie simply didn’t lie. “Oh… um we don’t have to. I can just watch you more. You looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Immy handed the bottle back to Lottie and raised one of her eyebrows.

“More.” She said with a grin, and then asked for a different tune. This one was slower and involved more intricate motions. She started as soon as the beat indicated and danced at the deliberate pace, keeping her head high as she had been instructed to do. Her family had loved to dance traditionally, and she had spent her childhood doing the same with the neighborhood kids in her slum. It was a good pastime when they weren’t getting into trouble. She looked at Lottie as she danced, trying to see if she was either enjoying herself or drinking more.

Again the young woman simply watched Immy, looking from her feet to her face and back and forth quite a few times while holding the bottle. She did eventually catch Immy looking at her and grimaced slightly while she took another small drink of the alcohol as she figured that was why Immy was looking at her.

"Why don't you move your head?" Lottie finally asked, her speech a bit slower.

“The dance is all about quickness of the feet and control with the rest of the body, Immy said as she leaped into the air slightly before resuming her stepping. She wasn’t particularly skilled , but she still managed a good jump. “The point is to make it look easy.”

"Well... you do make it look easy." Lottie noted as her head started bobbing a bit with the rhythm. "It definitely is not easy though. I... can tell. Mhm." She nodded in time with the music.

The music went on for a few more minutes before stopping as the first one had. Immy returned to the bed next to her companion, breathing heavily but not having broken a sweat. She looked at Lottie and placed a hand on her leg.

"How are you feeling?"

“Ummm…” Lottie began, looking up to the ceiling as if it might have the answer she was seeking. “Is the room wobbly? I think the room is wobbly.” She lifted a hand absently and slowly waved it around to match watch she was seeing. The other hand gave the bottle back to Immy.

“I’m sad.”

Immy sighed.

"Yes, the room is wobbly." she said, and then lifted the bottle to her lips again and took a drink. She was certainly feeling it and the room was wobbly for her as well. As much as she wanted to escape, she could think of nothing to do with Lottie the drag. She sighed again and looked at the younger girl, her face an image of a fake smile plastered over annoyance. "What are you so sad about?"

Sweet Lottie was oblivious to Immy’s disdain and merely continued to look at the ceiling. “Nobody taught me how to dance.” She paused and then smiled brightly, finally looking at Immy. “You could teach me!”

Immy didn’t respond out of compassion, necessarily, but rather out of eagerness that Lottie had somehow acquiesced to her desires by the power of the drink. She smiled brightly and grabbed the girl by the arms, encouraging her onto her feet quickly.

“Damn right I could.” She said, her typically smooth, warm, youthful voice taking an excited edge. She went over to the terminal and cued up a new song, one with an early 21st century party beat. It had electronic synth, heavy drums, and a highly energized attitude. Immy started to giggle. “Let’s just start by moving. You don’t have to dance well, you just have to learn to have some fun, girl!”

When she was pulled up, Lottie staggered a little but quickly found her feet while she used Immy's arms to steady herself a bit. As the music started, she blinked slowly and just stood there; this was most definitely not music she was used to. Nevertheless, she started to move her feet in a simple side-together motion that didn't even remotely follow the bass beat, but she was at least trying and she even eventually smiled while looking down at her feet.

At first, Immy thought this girl was hopeless, but now she at least showed promise. Having someone to dance with had done wonders for her mood instantly and she smiled brightly, her beautiful delicate face looking more innocent than ever. She figured she’d best give Lottie something to immigrate which was doable for her, so she through her arms in the air and moved her hips to the beat, moving in a way the girl would be able to repeat without having it be too easy. She laughed extravertedly in a way that was infectious, her budding drunkenness becoming obvious.

Lottie looked up when she caught the movement of Immy's hands up and then looked back down to the older woman's hips. Both seemed a bit too complicated for her right now, so she settled for moving her hips a little while continuing the simple step back and forth. She eventually looked up to Immy and smiled at her, her eyes asking for approval.

"I'll make a party girl out of you yet!' Immy said over the moderate volume of the rather obnoxious music. She danced over and grabbed the bottle again. She placed it to her lips and dank, then walked over and but it in Lottie's hands again. Then she kept dancing for a few more moments, eventually, she went over, lowered the volume enough so they could talk, and then resumed her dance with a curious but amused expression. "Warmed any good beds lately? You've been here with me every night."

Lottie had been in the middle of taking another drink, but immediately sputtered and started coughing at Immy’s question. Her face turned bright red and she turned away, hastily putting the bottle down and then covering her mouth with her forearm. When the fit had passed, she turned enough to look back at Immy. The redness remained. “I… n-no… I don’t do that.”

"Well, we seem to have pretty hands off officers in our department.." Immy said, raising her brows and chuckling a bit at Lottie's trouble with the drink. "But you haven't taken any others...you know...just for fun?"

"Fun?" Lottie asked, her expression screwing up into something both confused and somewhat disgusted. "What do you mean fun? That isn't fun. It hurts and it is terrible and really just... gross."

Immy frowned. This was a way of thinking she didn't resemble at all. She stopped dancing at that as well.

"It depends who its with, Lot." she said, placing a hand on her arm. "I'm not trying to get all serious here. I was just trying to gossip with you. To be honest, I've been talking to a few other slave girls and we're putting together a chart of officers based on dick size. You know, because we like to live dangerously."

"Well, it has never been fun with the people I've been commanded to serve." Lottie shrugged and frowned, looking away for a moment and thinking, but it was obvious her thoughts were going nowhere on the matter. She then looked back to Immy and her expression gentled. "Um... do I want to know how you all know enough to make a... chart?"

"I'm joking, Lottie! Oh, Gods, did you think I was serious?" She asked, shaking her head and laughing, causing her long red hair to jostle and shake in its shimmering glory. "I was just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Lottie pouted and looked away, embarrassed. "A lot of you do... that... it would make sense that you would have one. It matters, doesn't it?"

"Not to me." Immy said. "I don't actually do that. I've never found a master I liked enough to do it with and..to be honest, I'm one of those unicorns who's never been forced one way or another. I've had some violent anger about it, but I talk my way out. I've been slave exclusive, I suppose."

Immy frowned then, realizing it might sound like she was gloating. It could be a sensitive topic, though slaves typically spoke lightly of it. Those with trauma tended to joke.

"Who was it for you?"

"Wait you don't do that so have you never...?" Lottie asked, now obviously very confused. She was either ignoring or missed Immy's question to her entirely, but judging by her state it was probably the latter.

"I have, but not with anyone who wasn't a slave." Immy answered. "Don't...spread that around though. I pretend to keep people from hating me around here."

"Oh, right. I forgot." Lottie wilted slightly for a moment as everything finally caught up in her mind and she remembered that Immy wasn't like her, but there was a sweetness to it knowing that Immy would also be free someday. She lifted her head and then gave the redhead a little smile. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks." Immy said with a grin. "Plus, if the masters found out, they'd want to be first."

She moved to turn off the music. An interesting probing question posed to Lottie had taken her out of the mood for dance. She sat down on Lottie's bed again and looked up at the girl.

"You seem too innocent and kind to get to be First Slave over all of the cutthroats outside those doors."

"The Masters do not want cutthroats, they want obedience, and in the end those people are simply looking for a fast track to freedom." Lottie sat down next to Immy and folded her hands. "I am a slave. I have always been a slave. I was born a slave and will likely die a slave. What would it do for me to be anything but what I am for something that will never be?"

Immy looked away for a moment, taking a beat to avoid any appearance of conflict. When she looked back at Lottie, all she did was part her lips and ask a simple question.

"What happened to the last first and second?" she said simply, gently, in a quiet and easy voice.

"Well, one of them slept with the captain's son." Lottie said quite pointedly. "The other was a friend of one of the officers from younger years, from what I hear. The former XO's wife, I do believe, that's why he was able to secure her freedom."

She looked at Immy and smiled. "I'm just Little Lottie."

"Yes, Little Lottie." Immy said, her jaw setting slightly. "Well, I'm Imogen Siobhan Tiger, and I'm not little anymore. I think we can both be more than we are right now."

If Immy hadn't been drinking, she probably wouldn't have said it. But she had, and there was no taking it back. She didn't often say what she really wanted to anyone, but she almost had in this moment.

"Well, I know you can be. You will be." Lottie said with nothing but positivity and support for Immy. She shifted to lie down but still looked up to Immy with that smile. "What will you do? When you're free I mean."

"Well, if we're still in the Delta Quadrant, I guess I'll look for some way to be useful around here. Maybe operations like Eritrea, or maybe I'll just try civilian life and rest my legs for a little bit." Immy responded with a smile. "I don't know. But, I know one of the first things I'm going to do...is go to the mess hall and order an entire chocolate cake."

"An entire cake?" Lottie asked, her eyes going wide. "You'd make yourself sick eating all of that. That's not good. Being sick is never good. It is very messy... and I'd have to clean it up. Maybe. I don't know." She didn't really give Immy a chance to comment. "What about if we aren't stuck in the delta quadrant anymore? What will you do if we are home?"

"If I can't finish the cake, I'll share it with you." Immy said, placing an arm on the woman where she laid down. "If we're back home? I'll go see my mamma. Maybe I'll go home to Dublin find a nice tall Irish boy who doesn't care about my past..have a few kids. Or maybe I'll marry rich and become a lady."

She giggled then, drunkenly.

"It's only up from here, right?"

"Ummm... yeah!" Lottie agreed. At least for Immy it was up from where they were; the older woman just didn't quite seem to grasp that for Lottie this was it. The best she could end up hoping for was to be sold back into private service instead of service to the fleet, but somehow she didn't see that happening either.

"Is your mamma nice?"

"No." Immy said. But neither was she, really. "But she's still mamma. I haven't seen her...in a very long time."

“Oh.” Was all Lottie could manage as her drunken mind tried to recover from the awkward moment. It didn’t do it quickly. “Well, I hope you get to see her again anyways.” She paused then continued. “Do you want to have babies? You mentioned babies.”

Immy turned her head to the side.

"Of course I do. Don't you?" Immy asked, knowing how often slave girls wanted to have children, since they would have a higher caste and life than did their parents. The two of them, as 1st Caste slaves, would give birth to free children as long as they had the child with at least another 1st Caste slave. "I mean, if you could get permission."

“Umm… well… as long as I am bound to service in the fleet, that won’t be happening. I guess I have never really thought about it much since I always expected the answer to be no. My masters would have no personal gain from breeding me, so…” Lottie shrugged. “I do like children though.”

“Alpha quadrant slaves are in short supply, and if we’re going to survive long enough for our journey, we’re going to need to start making babies. I think you have a good chance of being able to have children. Who knows, you might have a son who’s like….Chief of security one day.”

Lottie giggled at that notion, waving a hand and smiling up at Immy. “Well that I don’t know about. I doubt they’d let any child of mine get to such a position. Maybe yours though; you don’t have the spotting problem.” She turned her head to show off her spots. Were they not considered such a mar on her, the pattern and color were actually quite striking. “I’ve been told they last for many generations.”

“They’re very cute, if that means anything to you.” Immy said with a smile. She believed this despite what other people thought. “Honestly, in a way, I’m a bit jealous. I think I’d be sexy in spots.”

"I think I have a pen or marker somewhere in here. I could draw some on you if you want?" The offer was sweet and she smiled up at Immy. "They would look good on you, you're right."

Immy looked at Lottie funny, thinking about how stupid the silly idea was, and how it was probably made in jest. She didn’t care.

“I dare you to.” She said through a warm giggle.

"Okay." Lottie sat up and then nudged Immy slightly. "Move your butt."

Once Immy had moved, Lottie opened the small drawer in the stand set up for them. Inside of course were a few more PADDs of her stories she liked to read as well as a few markers of various colors. She took them out and lifted them up to Immy. "What color?"

“Oooo. Let’s go red, like my hair.” Immy answered with an eager expression. Without being asked, she scooted into the bed next to Lottie and laid on her back, hoping to give her close and comfortable access with the marker. “Are you a good artist or am I going to look a bit crazy?”

"Um." Was all Lottie supplied as she took the cap off the marker. "Just uh... turn your head facing that way and hold still." It was spots. How hard could it be?

Lottie set to work then, carefully drawing some spots on Immy's temples and the side of her face like a Trill would have. Lottie then reached out to guide her to turn her head the other way to give her the same treatment on the other side. She was very focused, biting her lower lip and taking her time, but in the end she was drunk.

"Okay, all done." She said finally and put the cap back on the marker. It wasn't the best job, but it didn't look atrocious.

"I thought those things went all the way down." Immy said, sitting up and moving to the mirror. She was no art critic, and she immediately started primping and posing in the mirror. The poses went from cutesy, girly poses to much more adult ones. After some obviously suggestive poses, she turned to Lottie and laughed, stepping back over and standing next to her. "Too bad the don't go all the way down."

Lottie flushed slightly. “Um… well they do actually but you have clothes on and I figured you just wanted them on your face. They do look good on you though. The red works.” Shifting, she sat on the edge of the bed and swung her legs back and forth slightly. “You should be a model. You’re very good at it.”

"Thank you." Immy said, and smiled quite genuinely. It was clear she really appreciated to compliment. Truthfully, that was a dream of hers, but she hadn't revealed that to Lottie. She knew the girl wouldn't understand. "I guess gyrating can be a skill, and I've always been good at it. I'm not really good at too much else, I think."

“I don’t know. You’re good at your jobs here, but I’m sure that’s really the last thing you want to be good at.” Lottie smiled in an almost understanding way. “I’m sure you’re good at plenty of other things though, Immy. You’ll have a good life with your Irish man and little red headed babies.”

"You're so sweet." said Immy, feeling a pang of guilt for not having been truthful with Lottie about her dreams. She sighed, smiling. "We should probably go to bed, Lottie."

"Yeah... probably." Lottie agreed but for the first time actually seemed a bit sad to agree. "Always so much to be done around here." As she pulled her legs up into the bed, she brightened again and looked up to Immy. "Thank you for spending time with me and sharing with me."

"Thank you for my spots." Immy said, pulling the blanket over Lottie as if she was really an older sister. She then turned, picked up the bottle of alcohol and closed it, then she took it to her side of the bed, put it away, and climbed into her own bed. "Goodnight., Lottie."

"Goodnight, Immy." Lottie reached to turn off the light in her bunk and then turned over onto her side. Maybe it hadn't lasted a long time, but she had fun with her friend tonight. It had been a good day for someone like her. As she began to drift off, she couldn't help but smile.

END