Martel grunted as he pushed the bench press slowly upward. He was wearing out, this was his last set and he had upped the weight. Trying to keep the sounds of his exertions to a minimal level, he finally succeeded. He was finishing up as he had a function to get ready for and he was fretting about his wardrobe. Pushing the minor worry away for the moment he brought the bench press bar down again and slowly, painfully, pushed it up for his last rep. His arms started to shake and burn but he just made it with a final yell of effort. Setting the bar on its rests and sitting up, he toweled away the sweat.

The worry returned. He had nothing to wear. Martel wasn’t used to worrying about such things. Formal occasions, dress uniform. Easy, right? Everything else was casual but he was in a quandary here. He didn’t think this party warranted a dress uniform and yet the rest of his clothes were definitely on the casual side. He was a simple man after all. He wanted to make a good impression and so he….fretted.

With a muffled curse he got up, cleaned up the bench press station and headed to his quarters. He’d figure something out. Upon entering his quarters he immediately showered, dried off and looked into his closet. Martel was the type to get rid of annoying or unpleasant tasks first to get them out of the way so there was no use putting it off. Looking at his assembled clothing hanging there, they almost seemed to laugh at him. Short sleeved shirts, some with patterns, one with the Starfleet rugby team logo on it, another was his jersey from the American arena football club, the Black Knights, that he had gotten involved in at the Academy. He pulled a face, good looking shirts but he was unsure.

Martel had a sudden thought. Maybe this was a way to gauge the general attitude of the crew, a test of his own. To see how laid back they actually were. His hand hovered over the Black Knights jersey. “Boy, that’s the senior officer’s mess….please don’t be an idiot.”, Martel could almost hear the multiple voices of his mother and father admonishing him from beyond the void. With a rueful grin, Martel finally settled on some acceptable black shoes, grey slacks and a plain black shirt. The shirt was a bit tight and outlined his musculature slightly more than Martel would’ve liked, but he didn’t see too many other options and he needed to get going. He had packed on a little more muscle on his already heavily muscled frame and the shirt showed it.

Staring into the full length mirror and reminding himself to be on his best behavior, Martel stretched a bit. This was both to test his ability to move in the shirt and to stretch sore muscles and joints. He suddenly missed Nikkira. She was always able to get him through situations like this with grace and humor and make sure his feet and mouth remained separate entities.

“She ain’t here, Dave. It’s done, get over it, it’s been over two years. You knew what it was. She has moved on, you need to as well.”, Martel, admonished himself harshly, as he always did when he had such thoughts. His mood soured. No use dwelling on the past but he never could quite shake her from his mind.

Cracking his neck as he always did when trying to calm himself, Martel forced his thoughts into a lighter tone. He sighed then laughed when he realized that the shirt either looked attractive or ridiculous and he was about to find out which.

“Well, there’s no present like the time….let’s go meet the rest of the bunch.”, Martel thought wryly as he left his quarters.