[JP] RAdm. Reynolds, LtCmdrs Neathler and Marshall - Goodness Gracious Eight Balls of Fire (Part I)
Quinn Reynolds
((Sto’Vo’Kor, Crew Lounge, Deck 9))
They waged wars on a field of green; strategy devised, and tactics enacted, put to the test on the lush verdure lacking in blooms. Trajectory and geometry were the currency of the day; mathematical statistics and probability winning out over brute force. Armed warriors stood on either side, the pitched battle between made with long wooden weapons — gladiators in the arena — without the cheer from a spectating crowd…
...As it was shore leave, and the lounge was blissfully bereft of patrons.
The dull thunk of a striped pool ball hit the felt boundary and disappeared down into the corner pocket. Triumphant smile notwithstanding, Jo stood up from her shot and leaned on the cue, beer bottle lifted with some measure of victory, finger pointed from around it toward the battlefield between the blonde and the hazel-eyed woman opposite.
Marshall: That’s two. You’ve got to admit, I’m getting better.
And watched as a rebounding ball from the shot knocked the white into the centre pocket.
Marshall: Kinda.
Eyebrows raised, Quinn lifted her gaze from the inexorable path of the cue ball into the pocket. She grinned, raising her palm parallel to the ground, and rocked it from side-to-side with a chuckle. Out of uniform, in worn jeans and a loose t-shirt, she didn't look the prim and proper Admiral that she usually was — and, at times like this, that was how she liked it.
Reynolds: Kinda.
Even as the smile refused to dissipate any, Jo’s tongue lodged in her cheek and a long sigh deflated her chest.
Marshall: One day, Quinn. One day.
Beer bottle handy, Jo took a swig and glanced across the open expanse of the crew lounge to where their Chief of Security and Tactical would make her appearance from. Possibly an odd request to meet the two in the lounge, but it was a far sight better than being holed up in Quinn’s Ready Room for the duration of all the comings and goings expected. She watched the Admiral setup for the next shot through a swig of beer.
Marshall: Do you think she thought you were pulling her leg?
Reynolds: I hope not. ::The crack of resin snapped through the air as the white collided with another ball, sinking it with barely any thought at all.:: Though perhaps "come and play ball" isn't the more obvious of invitations.
Marshall: What can I say, you’re a subtle creature.
Quinn chuckled in reply, shooting a sly twist of a grin toward Jo with equal precision to her pool playing. Trying not to smile and failing quite aptly, Jo heard the doors swish open and looked over to see the young Security Chief in all her glory entering the wilds of the crew lounge. Lifting her beer bottle up to catch her attention, Jo beckoned her over.
Marshall: Sami! Over here!
Sto’Vo’Kor, a familiar place, frequently visited the last two years and yet, for obvious reasons, nerves were rushing through her body as she stepped through the doors this time. Samira wore black jeans, and a light grey t-shirt, fingerless gloves, matching color with the shirt, hidden in her back pocket. Casual clothes as requested in the invitation.
Ok, this was just a game of pool. Maybe she should have practiced a bit more, she couldn’t remember the last time she had played a game. Wasn’t it with Blackbird while he was on the ship? She took a deep breath as she stepped through the doors. Too quiet, everyone was down on the station or on Palanon. Or not that quiet when she heard the recognisable voice of the First Officer calling her.
She walked over to the pool table, plucking a bit of grey fur away from her shoulder, nodding in greeting as she arrived.
Neathler: Sir, Jo. ::She quickly glanced at the different coloured and striped balls on the table. :: Who’s winning?
Probably an unnecessary question, but it was the first thing that came to mind. Quinn smiled, one hand on her hip, leaning on her pool cue. As much as she preferred formality, not one for allowing her officers to refer to her casually on duty, at times like this it felt incongruous.
Reynolds: We're off duty, Sami. You can call me Quinn.
Quinn instead of sir. That would take getting some used to and not exactly the way she was raised. Still, it was only for the duration of this game; she figured for now.
Marshall: And I wouldn’t say “winning” so much as “succumbing to my eventual slaughter”. Albeit a little slower than last time. You’re losing your touch, Reynolds. ::A cheeky grin sprouted as Jo plucked her beer bottle from the side rail and she turned the grin to Sami.:: How are you at the old game? Come prepared to be my saviour?
Neathler: I’m afraid, I’m a bit rusty, I haven’t played in a while. ::She looked at the setup, a hand going through her short hair.:: And I admit, I’m more familiar with snooker than eightball. Do you pot the balls by number?
Marshall: Some players do. ::She took a swig from the bottle.:: But I tend to pot whatever I can before Quinn turns this into a massacre.
Reynolds: I feel I should point out she takes her defeat with good grace because she knows she'll be murdering me at springball tomorrow.
Samira raised an eyebrow. So that’s what was happening when the Commanding and First officers held meetings? Either playing pool or springball? Still, it was good to see them both taking some time off for themselves, although she still was wondering what she was doing here herself.
Neathler: Got to keep the score even somehow. Maybe I should just observe and learn from the best.
And in the meantime come up with a strategy to not be slaughtered instead, Samira thought as she already studied the position on the pool table, thinking of which shot she’d try first. Quinn glanced toward Jo, a sly twinkle in hazel eyes, and then looked back toward the brunette.
Reynolds: Maybe it's time to step up.
Step up as in not observing? Right, of course. Her eyes still on the game, unaware of the interaction between the other two, Samira walked around the table, looking at the game from a different angle. What was she thinking, of course the Admiral would want to see how well she played? What was the point of inviting someone to a game of pool, if that someone just observed? At the corner of the table she took a step back, looking up at the others.
Neathler: In that case, I’d pot the three first, with a gentle shot. That would leave the cue ball at the correct position to go after the eight.
Picking up the tail ends of Quinn’s grin, Jo chuckled through a swig from the beer bottle, and held out the pool cue to her commander counterpart to take. The fun was always in the opportunity to kick back together without that mantle of duty weighing down the shoulders like a backpack of bricks; throw off the shackles of command and enjoy easy conversation through the guise of playing a game.
Marshall: I think we have a contender. How about it, Sami? Give Quinn a run for her credits.
TBC
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Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0
&
Lieutenant Commander Samira Neathler
Chief of Security & Tactical
USS Gorkon
G239508SN0
&
Lt. Commander Jo Marshall
First Officer
USS Gorkon, NCC-82293
G239304JM0