**************************************************** Disclaimer time once again!   Eighty-fifth verse same as the first . .everybody *sing*: I don't own these characters, (chorus) Paramount does! I don't own this venue, (chorus) Paramount does! I am making no money off of this, (chorus) Paramount does not either! This story will eventually involve love and sex and affection between two men, aka: slash.  If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then don't read it! (simple, ain't it??) Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always answered.  Flames will be passed around to friends and chuckled over.  :) Thirty-second story in the Stage Direction series.  Sequel to 'Ssst', 'Growl', 'Chuckle', 'Sob', 'Grin', 'Sigh', 'Smile', 'Yawn', 'Whisper', 'Groan', 'Hover', 'Waffle', 'Comfort', 'Fidget', 'Grimace', 'Sizzle', 'Glare', 'Shrug', 'Doze', 'Snort', 'Whack', 'Stretch', 'Snicker', 'Pace', 'Hug', 'Clink', 'Wonder', 'Kiss', 'Doubt', 'Surprise', and 'Cuddle'. 'Ahem' by Amirin **************************************************** Well, now.  The mess hall this morning is quite a contradiction, let me tell you.  I have never *seen* it so crowded, yet I have never heard it so *quiet*.  A roomful of people and they're all acting like they're afraid to make any noise whatsoever.   And Tom thinks it's all vastly amusing, of course.  He keeps looking over at me and winking and I find myself laughing and suddenly, thirty people are watching me. It's rather disconcerting, I must admit.  And he's completely unfazed by it all.  Of course, he's used to people watching him, staring, even, but I'm not and part of me is sorely tempted to drop an armful of pots and pans on the floor, just to watch them all jump. "What's so funny?" Gracious, he moves quietly.  Hands on my shoulders, leaning over to see what I'm cooking, stealing small pieces of the sausage I've got browning at the moment.  "Stop that.  You'll burn yourself.  Again."   "Sorry, Neelix."   "No, I'm sorry, Tom.  Really.  I'm just . . . unsettled.  I guess."      "By the crowd."  "I don't know how you can stand it.  I find myself wanting to yell at them and that is so unlike me, really."  "I know.  I debated staging something involving huge amounts of smoke, just to get them all the hell out of here."        "Oh, my. That's terrible, Tom. Goodness."    "If you change your mind, just let me know . . ." "Don't tempt me. Some of them have been here for more than an hour. I can't believe it takes anyone that long to eat a plateful of Zryllian spice toast with tossaberry jam."    "I can't, either."    "You are determined to keep me laughing through this, aren't you?"        "Yep."      "Neelix, if you're trying to get them to quit watching us, I don't think this is the best way to go about it, I gotta tell ya."  "Maybe not.  But, I feel better, nonetheless."   "Are they still watching?"        "More than ever."      "Neelix, if you don't quit looking at me like that, I'll be forced to kiss you."  "If that was supposed to dissuade me, you did a terrible job of it, I must say." "Have it your way."      "Still watching?"  "Um hmm."  "I think something may be burning." "Tell me about it."    "Ahem."      "Ahem!"    "Captain!"    "I don't know what this was, Neelix, but it seems . . . a bit well done, for my taste."    "Then, allow me to recommend the Zryllian spice toast with tossaberry jam, Captain."  "The crew's certainly been . . . enjoying it."    "*Tom!*" ***********************end