Aramis Bijou was laying on a lounge sofa in his workout clothes with his knees raised, his legs in triangles.
His brown bob of braids were leaning back over his brown skin, his head rested on a red-cased pillow from his quarters.
His workout clothes were a dark red, sheeny muscle tank top with, “U.S.S. Challenger,” written on it in black that suited his fitness well; black paisley pattern on black, belly dance pants with some of the same shirt fabric sewn into hip cutouts; and, black, toed sock-shoes with dark red bottoms that also read, “U.S.S. Challenger,” on them in black, below the toes on the bottoms. The sock-shoes were for “barefoot” running.
He was using a tablet, having a text conversation with an adoption agency personnel.
“She’s pretty,” Ari thinks out loud of the personnel.
The woman’s picture in the text messenger was African-American with box braids, in a business suit. She was quite fetching by the beauty standards of the time.
He then moves onto looking at his emails.

-Cadet Aramis Bijou, Security