The soft buzz of conversation filled the lounge, blending with the low hum of the ship’s systems. Tyler sat near the center of the room, comfortably angled toward the flow of traffic, his drink in hand and a faint, easy smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

He wasn’t in uniform tonight — just a sleeveless dark shirt that showed the multiple tattoos across his arms: constellations, blue-green leaves, and faint geometric lines that shifted subtly as he moved. The designs seemed to tell a story without words, hints of science and nature woven together with deliberate artistry.

His left arm rested lazily across the back of the empty chair beside him, fingers drumming idly — a casual posture that carried more invitation than intent. The amber liquid in his glass caught the light as he took another slow sip, savoring it rather than rushing.

Letting his gaze wander, he scanned the room for a bartender, sipping the last of his drink.

-Tyler Michael Wells, Science