((Writer’s Room, USS OEB))
Maxwell: Pretty sure that can be arranged.
Loq drained their drink. Offering a grin up, Max drained his scotch.
Yinn: Well, another glass would be a good start.
Koryan’s eyebrows darted upward. He glanced between them as Max placed his glass onto the bar.
Koryan: What sort of shenanigans do you think you two will get into?
Koryan chuckled softly, and Max politely motioned for his own glass of bloodwine.
Maxwell: Well, a party needs proper planning if its going tae be memorable.
Koryan: Sounds like you have the beginnings of an idea. Consider holding a party of your own? Maybe the way you want one to be thrown?
Loq rubbed his forehead ridges in frustration.
Yinn: I'm not sure Starfleet would approve of the amount of sex at a Bolian party or the amount of violence at a Klingon one. Humans tend to be squeamish about both.
Maxwell: What happens on the holodeck.
He left the old expression unspoken, knowing it had been a secure escape for many people back on 118. And that was aboard a huge station with many hidden bars and clubs that were already very open to different tastes.
Koryan: Maybe you two have inspired me.
Yinn: What do you have in mind?
Maxwell: Aye come lad, get it spilt.
Koryan: Response
At the very least there would be a pile of Marines in attendance. They were known for training hard, but they also played even harder when off-duty. Which was far from saying that other crew would avoid a Bolian/Klingon party of course.
Maxwell: You're gonnae need a fair time tae organise that. ::He motioned towards the streaking starfield outside with a smirk.:: But fortunately, you've a captive audience.
Yinn/Koryan: Response
Scooping up his bloodwine from the bar, Max took a heavy sip.
He glanced at it for a moment before swallowing.
Maxwell: Koryan, you're spoiling us wi' the real stuff.
Yinn/Koryan: Response
A rogueish half-grin split Max's face.
--
1st Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell.
Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.
USS Octavia E Butler: NCC-82850.
O239311AM0