A half-Klingon and a robot walk into the holosuite

T'Pren was still grinning as she flipped the arm over in her hands and peered down the socket almost like looking through a telescope. "I'm a firm believer that everyone should be trained in their own mechanics," she said to Zima on a slightly more serious note, adding over her (connected) shoulder to Akhil, "which is why we need counselors."

She started to reach for the exposed parts still attached to Zima's body and then hesitated, glancing up at the robot. "May I?"

"Please do," the android replied.

"I'll have to look at your schematics and the notes on repair," T'Pren explained distractedly as she reached into Zima's shoulder and touched wires and compared the damage to the arm. "But from just looking at it, I'd say this will be pretty easy." She tilted her head. "Granted, I've never worked with anything quite like you before, but I think it's just the wiring. And wiring is no problem."

She looked back at Akhil with an amused smile. "It's fixable. You didn't break the new doctor." The smile grew into a grin. "But when they say to 'disarm' your opponent...you know they don't mean that literally, right?"

Akhil growled in response, narrowing his eyes at Pren. For all his Klingon fierceness, in that moment it fell a little flat.

"Counselor, I am very sorry our session was cut short. Perhaps I'll have some armor replicated for our next one," Zíma said. "And perhaps I'll brush up on my blade combat.."

Akhil was glad Zima said 'cut short' - he did not wish to accept the ending of this session as a victory on his part. "If you would still like to spar with me again, I promise not to remove any of your limbs in the process," he replied somberly over whatever snickers might follow from Pren.

The broad, cheeky smile T'Pren gave Akhil made it very clear that she thought his growl was adorable. Charming, even. She continued to smile as she plucked at the individual wires coming from the arm in her hands.

"Armor," she giggled to herself before tucking the floppy mechanical appendage under her own arm. "We should probably do this in engineering. They'll have the right tools."

"Don't promise anything of the sort, Counselor," Zíma said. "I would not wish you to hold back. I will prepare for your level of skill next time. Lead the way, Lieutenant."

Unable to help herself, T'Pren used Zima's arm with one of her own to give an exaggerated shrug. "Anybody interested in an arms race?" She laughed at her own joke again and saluted Akhil with Zima's hand against her forehead.

"Tallyho then," she declared, and led the way, arm lifted high like a war banner.

Akhil stared after them, shaking his head. When the door closed, he looked around and spotted a few loose screws on the flower where Zima had fallen. He picked one up and, in spite of himself, smirked.