Ensign Meris - Close Encounters of the Barbeque Kind

[Meris/Brian]

(( Molly Malone’s Irish Pub – First Promenade, Deck 225, Deep Space 224 ))

 

Sitting with Lieutenant Storm, Meris was surprised when the woman offered to share her plate of meat sticks. Had the situation been reversed, the J’naii doubted they would have done the same, for fear of germs. But this officer seemed unconcerned that the J’naii might be unclean. Perhaps she had noted Meris’ fastidious appearance, or was familiar with J’naii standards of cleanliness, and decided the risk was worth... what, exactly? What did the officer have to gain by sharing her meal? The thought was perplexing - but the delicious aroma coming from the meat sticks also meant Meris did not care enough to question it further.

 

Meris: ::surprised:: May I? You would not object to sharing your chicken’s wings with me?

 

Storm: I wouldn’t have offered if I objected. Dig in.

 

oO That does make sense... Oo

 

The J’naii extended a finger and poked at one of the meat sticks, sending it skittering a few inches across the bar. Still, they succeeded in coating the tip of their finger in the brown sauce covering the meat. As Storm had done earlier, Meris brought their finger to their mouth and licked it.

 

Meris: ::eyelids fluttering:: Lieutenant Storm, your meat sticks are most delicious...

 

Beside them, Alex chuckled, and Meris glanced at the officer uncertainly. Had they done something amusing?

 

Storm: Chicken wings, Meris. They’re called chicken wings, and all you’ve eaten is the sauce. Here, usually they are eaten with both hands.

 

Meris watched as Alex Storm demonstrated the proper way to eat a chicken wing. Their eyes grew slightly wide, leaning forward and following the motion as Storm bit into the meat. When Storm’s eyes met theirs, the J’naii straightened, worried they had been caught watching a little too closely.

 

Meris: I see. You consume the meat...

 

Alex chewed and swallowed, then smacked her lips.

 

Storm: Oooo. That one was spicy.

 

Meris: ::repeating:: Spy-cee...

 

The J’naii watched as Storm thoroughly stripped the bone with her teeth. They then picked up the chicken wing that had skittered across the bar. Regret set in almost immediately as the barbecue sauce clung to their otherwise clean fingers. It was gooey - sticky - and the corner of their mouth twitched in a faint frown. Still, they bit into the chicken wing and pulled the meat from the bone, chewing and swallowing, though with far less satisfaction than they had felt over licking the sauce off their fingers.

 

Storm: The only problem with chicken wings, Meris, is that they are incredibly messy. ::Alex lowered her head and leaned in, speaking in a low tone as if giving away state secrets.:: Remember to never eat them on a first date.

 

Meris: ::nodding knowingly:: Indeed. I shall not.

 

The helmsperson finished their first chicken wing, chewing and swallowing as they weighed their feelings about it. Then, imitating Storm, they took a napkin to clean off their fingers rather than lick them clean this time.

 

Meris: This chicken’s wing is good, but not as flavorful as sauce fingers. I believe I will stick with those.

 

Meris picked up one of the small cups of sauce - this one honey mustard - and dipped a finger in it.

 

Storm: Response.

 

The J’naii officer looked puzzled, their finger covered in sauce.

 

Meris: Why not?

 

Storm: Response.

 

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Ensign Meris

Helm Officer

USS Artemis-A

A240207M14