JP: Lieutenant (JG) Ras El’Heem and Is’Kah Xiron, Ensigns Amelia Semara, Richard Matthews, and Ezra Zerva: Birthday Party - Part 1
Max
((Warp Core-oke Club. San Francisco, Earth))
There wasn’t an individual log for Richard leaving the ship. But he would have been signed out and that would show on the roster. Beaming down in a group would cover his tracks in so far as where he could have gone planet side. There were designated travel areas for regular level crew. He’d have to beam there, that wouldn’t look suspicious.
He hadn’t logged into a data terminal at command using his own login credentials. Sorry Kael, if he ever ran into the man again he’d owe him a drink. No one could say that he hadn’t left straight away. It wasn’t mandatory to take a fleet shuttle craft into the city. A walk and then hailing a shuttle was perfectly reasonable. If anyone looked at the travel logs to see if he signed a vehicle out.
Planet wide public transportation to different states wasn’t unusual either. If flagged and questioned, he’d just say that he was looking for a gift. Which wasn’t a lie. He’d forgotten to get Ezra’s present, forgotten that he’d been invited to a party. The quick jumps across states and then to a different country or two was perfectly reasonable. He had been speed running birthday shopping. It was a true emergency.
Bartender: That’s an interesting package, you sure you’re in the right spot, sir?
Richard glanced between the bartender, a young woman who was trying to hide a laugh behind her hand, and the large pink box in his arms with a puppy paw print on the top. And, “Creature Comforts Bakery” embossed below it. Then he looked around the room at large. He’d only paid the outside of the building a quick glance. Just to confirm the name in big neon letters on the side. Before going in. In true Richard Matthews fashion, he’d just barreled along without looking.
He could tell the majority of the patrons were cadets, they wore the uniform, he wasn’t doing any cool Sherlock Holmes detective work here. But he could spot civilians milling about. The bar was an island in the center of the room, a station with a wrap around table in a full circle. There was another bartender that Richard could see around the side mixing drinks. Then spreading out from the bar that had no stools, were tables, four chairs to each, booths along the side of the walls. An open space he assumed for dancing, and a stage. Not a big one. It was only raised a few meters off the floor. Denoting the space was special. There were unused instruments setup on stage, speakers, a touch screen just off center.
R. Matthews: No, no, this is the right spot. Here for a birthday. . . I don’t think we needed reservations, but it might be under, no, wait, I think I see my friends.
Ras coddled the box in his lap awkwardly. The corners puffed out slightly as the green and red lion-dog furoshiki hugged the packaging inside. He leaned forward and grabbed the lone glass of Islay Scotch from the table and swirled it around before taking a sip. He set the glass down on the same condensation ring where it had sat previously and wiped his hand on his shirt. Arriving early to events like this was usually a sticking point for others, for Ras it was ideal. He could control the initial conversation and set the mood at a comfortable pace for himself.
The sun was barely dipping its toes into the bay and the bar wasn’t exactly crowded. The Kressari was mildly out of place here, so far from home his gaze passed from face to face. All cadets laughing and unblemished by the harshness that lay in the stars. As he looked from a pair of women at the bar, his eyes landed on a familiar face.
El’Heem: Richard! Over here.
The towering man stood from the booth, still holding the package under his arm. Ras waved over his head to catch the officer’s attention.
R. Matthews: Hey! Ras, how’s it going man? Anyone else here yet?
El’Heem: Annoyingly no, now I have to wait with you before the others arrive.
He chuckled and placed the box down next to his glass as he sat down. He extended his arm to gesture for Matthews to sit.
R. Matthews: Oh, shut it, you love me. Not as much as a mushroom but still. Whatever this means I can get food while we wait.
El’Heem: Speak of the devil. Here they come.
R. Matthews: Ah dang it. Wait, no we can still get food, birthday food! Like holiday food the carbs don’t count so we can eat as much as we want.
Marcus ran in, sweat running down his face as if he had just ran a marathon… or two. After observing the room, he looked for anyone that could point him towards the celebration. Well, he was really looking for the ridiculous outfits he told everyone to wear.
At last, Amelia was the last to enter the bar. She regretted ever hearing the term: “poker”. The only good thing about the outfit she was wearing was that no one could see her eyes behind the reflective yellow “novelty sport sunglasses”. She wore a garishly oversized men’s neon yellow track suit with black delta-patterned stripes down the sides, a yellow bowler hat that clashed horribly with the blonde of her hair. Then, the coup de grâce: a colossal golden-rope chain with a Starfleet delta the size of a dinner platter hanging around her neck. It was gaudy enough to make a Ferengi blush.
She swam through fabric to join the rest of the gang.
Marcus looked up at Semara, seeing her in a ridiculous outfit. He couldn’t help himself but give a slight chuckle. It seemed he wasn’t the only one either.
Forza: ::choking a chuckle in progress:: What’s uh, going on there Semara? You doing alright?
Semara: As if you don’t know… :: A scolding, but amused smile. ::
R. Matthews: Oh, haha, oh my god! Camera, who has a camera? Where’s the manager I need security footage!
Richard turned to look towards the bar. Getting up on tiptoes and making an exaggerated motion of looking around. Balancing his gift in one hand while using the other to cover his eyes, like he was trying to block the glare of the sun, only the lighting in this place was quite low. If he had been looking for anyone. He’d only be hindering himself right now.
Probably looked silly like this. But the day Richard let himself care about appearances again. Would be the day he’d retire and escape into the bog to live out the remainder of his days as a bog-witch. No one could judge him then! At the hypothetical time that he gave a darn about what others thought, of course.
Ras looked up at Semara and paused. He looked down at his perfectly normal outfit. He looked at Forza, who was also in a perfectly normal outfit. And then he looked at Richard, who was not in a perfectly normal outfit. He hadn’t noticed Richard was wearing anything out of the ordinary when he first arrived but he chalked that up to the man’s eccentricity.
El’Heem: I may have missed the memo. ::clearing his throat:: You look ::beat:: great Semara.
Amelia crossed her arms across her chest. If she had to wear this ridiculous thing, she might as well own it.
Semara: Laugh it up, boys. :: A haughty high-chined smile :: Well played, Forza. ‘Mind me to introduce you to my tailor if we ever visit Casperia.
Getting the man into an immaculately well-fitted suit didn’t really constitute revenge, but she imagined he would look good in one.
R. Matthews: :: Coughing the words :: Chip’n Dale. :: He then thought of an embarrassing costume Semara could force on Forza. Well, embarrassing for him. Entertaining for Richard and others. ::
oO Come on and see the vision Semara. Oo
El’Heem: I’ve heard they have amazing clothiers actually.
Amelia lifted her chin, projecting a bit of haughtiness only a Betazoid lady could pull off in such a ridiculous… thing.
Semara: It’s true! The best fabrics, and the best fit. :: A sneaky, smirking side-eye at Forza :: So! We gettin’ drinks? :: Eyeing the stage :: Or what?
Drinks? Those sounded good to Marcus at about this point. He hadn’t quite made of fool of himself just yet, but he was sure going to. So much for learning his lesson.
Forza: I like the sound of that! ::quickly:: Drinks! I mean. Not uh, not the stage.
R. Matthews: Forza! Duet with me! The cheesiest duet song! Pick one!
El’Heem: I’ve hardly touched a drink since last shoreleave ::picking up his glass and swirling it before taking a sip:: however, this is a special occasion, is it not?
Semara: :: Leaning towards Forza with a huge smile. :: C’mon… If I can dress like this, you can let us hear that lovely voice a’ yours…
Marcus threw his hands in the air and simply shrugged his shoulders.
Forza: I’m sorry, not without a drink or two.
Ras laughed and tipped his glass towards the ensign.
El’Heem: Atta boy. Richard?
R. Matthews: On it!
He placed his package on the table, turned and jogged towards the bar. Calling over his shoulder that he’d grab generic shots for everyone’s first round. Since he didn’t care to bother with getting everyone’s drink orders. Just in case someone had really extravagant and difficult orders. Kind of like his shake order — oh, here was hoping the bar had shakes on hand.
The Kressari watched Richard jog off earnestly and he realized something while he strode to the bar.
El’Heem: I’ve never seen that man drink in my life.
Semara: :: A mirthful humph :: Is he just a walkin’ sugar high?
El’Heem: This is going to be one for the books.
Semara: :: A light laugh :: We’re gonna regret this, ain’t we?
TBC
Ensign Ezra Zerva
Security Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A240101EZ2
_________
Ensign Richard Matthews
Science Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A238908RM0
_________
Ensign Marcus Forza
Tactical Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
K240201MF3
__________
Lieutenant JG Ras El’Heem
Medical Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
K240106RE3
__________
Ensign Amelia Magnolia Semara
Science Officer
USS Khitomer - NCC-62400
A239710MA0
__________
Lieutenant (JG) Is’Kah Xiron
Acting Chief of Security and Tactical
USS Chin’toka
R240101I14
Pronouns:
She/Her (Player and Character)
Zha/Zhen (Character)