((Brew Continuum, USS Gorkon)))
Sat in the Brew Continuum, the coffeehouse aboard her new posting, Thea shared a drink with one of her favourite people. But as she did so, she had the discomforting sensation that their conversation was digging into places and topics she really didn’t want to get into. Somewhere under the surface, beneath the bubbling rebellion against rules and tradition, she believed her family had an important place in society. A duty to uphold. As did she—she just wanted to fulfil it in her own way and on her own terms. But Rix... every once in a while there was something in his eyes which gave her pause.
Kairis: Enough of all that. There must be some cardinal rules on this ship I should know about. ::She shot an impish grin toward him.:: And the real ones. Not weak attempts at foolishness like “call the Admiral ma’am”.
Kero: Figured us out already, I see. You'll get far quickly.
He adjusted his seat and sank into the soft cushioning, a beam of golden, artificial light bathing one side of his face. Maybe it was her imagination, but he looked different to the Rix she remembered. Not older, but... changed, somehow. Or maybe it was her, looking at him through a different lens; not a spoiled and rebellious ydari (well, maybe still one of those), but also as a person who’d gone through Starfleet Academy. A little more worldly, a little less self-involved—a little more grown-up.
Kero: No coffee before midnight, no running in the corridors, never hold the turbolift, everyone wears sweats and messy hair on Bajoran festival days. ::Lifting his mug for a drink, he added,:: And don't mention crabs.
Palms raised, he held his hands flat toward her, his gaze darting around the coffeehouse as if she had just shouted state secrets at the uninitiated. A few heads turned their way, but she rather thought it was in response to the Bajoran’s amateur dramatics than her crustacean query. Thea shook her head, smiling, and let him continue the drama.
Kero: Keep your voice down. It's like the red alert klaxon going off to some of them.
Kairis: Seafood as an alert status. ::She arched a sculpted eyebrow.:: You’re going to have to explain.
Kero: One of their missions ended… badly. The ship bringing the senior crew back from Earth decided to do a full stop and gravity shift in the middle of space. ::His eyebrow twitched, amusement like a gathering storm.:: Hey, maybe they just needed a Damage Control Specialist on board, right?
Kairis: For the crabs. ::She dipped her head, an apple-cheeked grin on her face.:: That I’m not supposed to talk about.
Still not sure if this was another of Rix’s teases, or a genuine thing to be mindful of, Thea opted to change the subject and enquire from a less mischievous source later. No doubt such things would be in the mission reports, though she half-expected the computer to laugh at her if she tried a keyword search for “crabs”.
Her indigo gaze travelled across the coffeehouse for a moment. It was quiet, though she supposed that was to be expected. Massive repairs were in progress, and accordingly, much of the crew were on shore leave. Rix was not the only Bajoran in a Starfleet uniform, and she wondered how many of them were attending the festivities on the planet. She’d developed a fondness for Bajoran festivals; maybe not the specific religion behind them, but she appreciated the intentions and the spirituality.
Glancing back toward her friend, she asked a question she suspected she already knew the answer to.
Kairis: Are you going to the festival this year?
Kairis: Come with me. We’ll drink springwine, eat hasperat the length of our arms, and make ourselves sick on jumja sticks. ::She grinned.:: It’ll be fun.
¹ Tyrellian: An heir to the crown—equivalent to princess/prince.