Scuttlebutt

Posted on Fri Oct 14th, 2022 @ 7:32pm by Ensign Ziahli Lorel & Lieutenant Kevan Dash

Mission: Scylla and Charybdis
Location: USS Athena - Dionysus Bar
Timeline: The evening after "Make It Stop"
1595 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

With Athena still searching the Titania system, there was a little tension among most of the crew about what they might find, and that usually led to the bar being more popular off-shift than usual. Kevan preferred it that way: the bar being busy meant more opportunity to have some fun and relax. He was a social animal, after all.

Spotting a familiar shock of brown hair over a gold uniform, he slid smoothly into the seat by her side.

"So, funny story," he said, not even waiting before starting up the conversation. "I heard this story about a junior officer in the security department somehow locking herself into one of the cells in the brig. Now, if I were this person I'd be dreading such news getting out. Especially to people who might use it against me for comedic purposes..." He grinned, a flash of amusement as he begun the teasing.

It had been an odd day. If Zia was honest, and she typically was, she hadn't expected to get away with her slight mishap without some sort of ramification and it had almost felt awkward that it had taken this long for someone to bring it up. It rammed home just how few people she knew and, since she was also a social creature, that was never going to sit right. There was also the small matter of her outburst in Sickbay, which clearly hadn't made it as far as her first mistake. That was more of a relief though Zia wasn't the type to find much comfort in bottling things up. Thus, accepting that the only way to fix that was to place herself where people would likely be, she hadn't balked at taking herself to the bar. What she had avoided was getting changed first, because the rest of the afternoon had expediated the need for an ice cream sundae.

She twirled her spoon through the chocolate sauce and settled overtly innocent eyes on the Lieutenant's face.

"Really? Isn't dread a little heavy-handed?" The tip of her tongue toyed with a drizzle of sauce. "Perhaps she was averting potential calamity further down the track. A malfunctioning brig sounds serious."

"I can't think of many that would be so altruistic as to voluntarily put themselves through that," he said. "But bravo if that's the case. You'll be fast-tracked to command of a remote frontier outpost in no time." He stuck his little finger into the corner of her ice cream and licked the dab that came out with it. "What's wrong with a little bit of risk here and there?"

"I'll remember that when you end up on the other side of my enhanced forcefields."

The thieving hand received a whack across the knuckles with a frozen-cold spoon.

"At least," Zia added over another mouthful, "your estimation of Ensign Fenn seems warranted. He must have posted a bulletin on his way out of Sickbay."

"How do you think I heard? Teyo is the source of all wisdom around here. I say wisdom...from a certain point of view, anyway..." he snorted. He liked the other man, and he was a great wingman, but he doubted actual wisdom would ever come out of his fellow Trill. Rubbing his knuckle he upped the ante by swiping a small blob of chocolate sauce and poking her playfully on the nose with it. "Be careful you don't get a reputation, Ensign. Lower Decks can spread all sorts of gossip, you know."

For a poised moment in time, he was treated to the deadpan of a woman wearing chocolate sauce as an accessory. Reaching for a napkin, Zia wiped it clean and then threw it at him. "And what kind of reputation should I be avoiding? Suggestions of incompetence is a concern, but I learned something about the systems I'm working with today so that shouldn't happen again. Is there something else I should be concerned about?"

"I don't know, accident-prone? Getting locked in your own cells is pretty hilarious for someone whose job title is literally 'brig officer' you know." He pushed the napkin to one side. "You got a little..." His hand reached out and he used his thumb to wipe a tiny bit of residual chocolate from her face. It lingered there as he gazed into her eyes. A momentary connection was all he usually needed to work some of his charms on the ladies. "Maybe clumsy...clearly you're a little messy with your food," he added with a wink.

There was something slightly unfair about the exchange, which had caught the Betazoid mid-ice cream emergency, and it was that premediated sense of frazzled equilibrium that Zia blamed for being somewhat taken aback by the physical contact. Not because she minded but because she hadn't anticipated it. First instinct was to blame the monitor attached just beneath her ear, though true to his word, the doctor's monitoring hadn't seemed to affect her telepathy much so far. The mild sedative he'd given her to deal with the lingering headache was probably more the culprit. A very faint flicker of her brow was smoothed over quickly but not before she had realised that this 'telepathic interference' was costing her some of the usual agility she employed during social exchanges.

"I think I could live with being considered clumsy," she murmured, rallying over a mouthful of ice cream drawn from an upside-down spoon. "Especially if it leads to certain members of the crew underestimating me." Dipping the tip of the spoon back into a dollop of sauce, she reached across to dab a reciprocal splotch onto the tip of his nose. "Though it does seem to be catching."

"I would never be so bold as to underestimate anyone," Kevan chuckled, at first using a finger and licking the chocolate away, before using the same napkin she had tossed at him to finish the job. "So, what are your plans once you've finished making a mess of that pudding?" he asked, remaining as forward as ever.

"I hadn't made any yet." This, at least, was more in keeping with her usual methods. "This region of space is apparently intent on giving me a headache, which I feel very inclined to pass on if possible. I don't have duty shift until tomorrow afternoon." Zia licked the spoon clean. "So I guess you could say I'm in search of a distraction." Betazoid bluntness, especially without the cat-and-mouse that telepathic athleticism permitted, was impressive to say the least. She arched an eyebrow at him. "Does my flight director have any suggestions?"

"All kinds of suggestions. Some of them might even help clear a headache, depending on your proclivities." His eyes lingered on her simple action of cleaning the spoon with her tongue. "And I can be very distracting." He offered her an open hand across the table.

Not so concerned about my reputation now, are we?

Content at least that her own thoughts were clear enough, Zia found refuge in the familiar sensation of being warmly amused by her companion. Generally speaking, the Betazoid found the company of others very easy to tolerate, and had a gift for locating the very best of every personality, or at least being able to find something she valued from every relationship she fostered. Having to be overly self-protective now was irritating but she recalled enough of her previous conversations with the Trill to know that, beneath the fabricated charm, a decent person lurked. For reasons she couldn't guess at, he seemed very focused on living carelessly and even as he reached out towards her, there was part of him pushing back in the opposite direction. It was...

...intriguing.

She liked mysteries.

Her dark eyes considered the outstretched hand as her own curled beneath her chin to prop it up. Eventually, Zia lifted her gaze to meet his.

"Then I guess its serendipitous that you're here."

She dropped the hand to settle the spoon in his in his and then carefully folded his fingers around it.

His grin widened, like a cat that got the cream. "Music to my ears." Her touch was gentle, her skin cool against his fingertips. "How are you with massage? I know a few techniques, if you're interested. Cures most of what ails you...maybe we find somewhere a little more private and I can show you?"

It didn't take a telepath to recognise that expression and, were she less sure of herself, Zia might have been tempted to dump the rest of her ice cream on his head as a reminder that he hadn't won anything yet. But she appreciated a forthright attitude, ulterior motives could be tiresome to navigate, and he was offering a very tempting incentive for her to risk his over-confidence. Her lips twitched but the telepath marshalled her composure, eyebrows raised as she dipped her head to approve. "As long as it doesn't involve locking me inside my own cell again, then I'm perfectly willing to see more of the ship."

"Great. And, uh, if you're not satisfied with the outcome of the massage...promise you won't lock me in one of your fancy cages either?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Oh, you are very much on provisional notice, Lieutenant." A pair of black eyes fixed a pointed look down the length of her nose. "After all," she threw his earlier words back in his face, "I have a reputation to consider."