Ensign Doz Finch - Detour Within a Detour
Doz Finch
((Adarak, Kendra Valley, Bajor))
The vivacious vendor in his smart wisteria garments had changed his mind and no longer wanted to dance with Doz, most likely, she thought, deterred by Samira’s disinterest in his merchant antics. During the exuberant foray, Tali Namura had appeared, her demeanour as controlled and as perfect as the very eyebrows on her face—oddly juxtaposed against her memory of the woman, whose self-injections lay latent in the sticky silks and webs of her mind.
Neathler: What brings you to the market?
Namura: Souvenir hunting for Tali's Tavern of the Cosmic Curious. ::She lifted her satchel shoulder with a small smile.:: Also, trying to avoid everyone else. It's as though someone dialled the spiritual knob to eleven and broke it off. What about you both?
Neathler: I’m just following Doz, who is determined to try every free sample she can get her hands on.
Namura: As is only good and proper on Bajor. It's a gastronomic experience on every corner. ::She inhaled, briefly, through small nostrils.:: We've put Sickbay on standby just in case.
Finch: You see? The good doctor knows what’s what. But it’s definitely lively—a bit of a feeding ground for pickpockets, I’d wager.
Though in her mind the notion of a pickpocket was a lot more appealing than Sickbay, a place that really was a gastronomic experience on every corner. Olfactorily, mentally, physically. Still, the last time hadn’t been nearly as offensive as her experiences on previous vessels. In fact, rather pleasant by comparison. Aside from Tali’s aspersions to her eyesight, completely unfounded thank you very much, she left the place feeling quite enthusiastic about her new posting indeed. Free from the shackles of Doctor Xiao and his insistence on regular checkups.
Neathler: How about we go over there, it seems more quiet.
Namura: Not a fan of the pageantry and turmoil of markets, I take it?
Finch: Each to their own, I suppose. But stalls upon stalls of random treasures, trinkets and troves and strangers vying for good deals, weaving in and out of crowds…the suffocating stench of street food. God! What's not to love!?
Neathler: We’ll come back this way when we return to the track. You can dance some more with the vendor then or buy some of these fruits.
Namura: There's a small place around the corner, making traditional jin'sarra in hot sand. Off the beaten track.
Finch: Oh, now we’re talking.
The crowds continued to swell, piling up and surrounding them like a beaver impoundment with no way in or out except for the occasional and fleeting crevice. With the sun beating down on them, it was rapidly becoming something of a heat trap, creating a sickening blend of smells potent enough to subdue a Klingon with a weak enough constitution. So Namura’s suggestion to veer off to a nondescript alley was most welcomed, even to Doz.
As they embarked on their detour within a detour, escaping the mobs and tangs of the pedlars labyrinth, they reached an establishment that had all of the hallmark visuals of a typical cafe, but with a few unique and signature differences.
Neathler: Response
Namura: I found this place years ago, and make a point of coming back whenever I'm close to Bajor. There's enough stimulant in a cup to keep your eyes from mutiny. I believe they'll make you tea in the crystal glasses, if you ask kindly enough.
Finch: Look at you, knowing all the good haunts! I’ll add this one to my long list. ::A hard sniff, followed by a satisfied exhale:: Now there’s a smell that takes me back. What are you thinking, Commander? A bit more you?
All around them, vekas pots hung from hooks looking as rough as Doz had felt upon waking from the Skarbek fiasco; centrally, her brown eyes noticed, was a sort of sandpit within which coarse grains dwelled, imbuing the air around them with a gentle aromatic steam, brewed by an older gentleman whose skin sagged to extremity. Lived-in. The smells were earthy and woody, far less assaulting than the previous barrage.
Neathler: Response
Namura: So, what prompted an impromptu trip to the marketplace?
Finch: We were on a power walk just here under the monastery, when I caught sight of the market and proposed a little detour. A bit of a crime, I think, but one I hope I’ll be forgiven for. ::Eying Samira and throwing Tali a wink::
Namura/Neathler: Response
The three women found a table with three chairs tucked away in a little corner and claimed it, the golden liquid brewed by the older gentlemen bubbling away in its central pot, dissolving the clatter and chatter of the marketplace outside.
Finch: I’m not a hoarder, so I mostly go for the experience. But now and then I might pick up a little stone, or a bracelet, or a knick-knack for a friend. There’s something kindly and sentimental about a gift purchased at a marketplace.
Namura/Neathler: Response
Finch: Well, I can usually tell the difference between real and replicated. ::Nodding:: It’s all in the imperfections. ::Taking a sweet from the bowl:: The slight splodge of paint on a ceramic, or the handle of a mug that’s a bit skewed. ::Squinting at Tali’s bag:: Let's have a look, then!
Namura/Neathler: Response