imply that you have to have an answer, you don't owe me one, that's for sure. I think, uh, I could care for you. You've been through a lot. I guess I just want to do for you ..."
His voice trailed off and he came to the awful realization that he had completely and totally blown it. She wasn't even looking at him. She was probably offended by his entire endless, rambling dissertation as to how much he wanted to spend time with her and why he wasn't remotely good enough to do so. Hell, she'd probably even register a complaint with the captain. Here she'd been, stuck in this emergency situation, and the chowderheaded head of security had been coming on to her. Had taken advantage of the fact that she was a captive audience and bored her to tears, or made her uncomfortable, with his lengthy and ill-timed, not to mention nauseating, proposition.
Nah, he realized. She wouldn't go to Sheridan. She had too much class for that. But she'd probably look at him with nothing but contempt in her eyes every time she saw him for the rest of the time that they spent together on the station. He had to do something to try and make amends. He had to fix the muddle that he'd made of it all.
"I'm sorry," he said as sincerely as he could. "I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to offend you. This was probably the wrong time, both had a hard day, you know how that goes. It's just awkward. So maybe you're right, maybe it's best we don't..."
At that moment, the full lights in the transport came back on once more. The floor shifted slightly under their feet and the transport resumed its course as if nothing had happened. "Looks like they fixed it. Now I can't remember where I'm going," he said with a laugh that really didn't have much amusement in it. "My brain jumped the track,