Lt Commander Foster - After All
Jamie LeBlanc
((Town of Carinth, Raijalla Valley, Bajor))
Foster: That gives us plenty of time to plan stops. All I request is food.
Typical Andorian thinking with his stomach. Some might call his race passionate. But his father had quickly re-termed that ‘hangry’ when raising a teenaged Wyn.
Blackwell: I am certain that DS9 has ample restaurants along the way - we’ll find something indulgent, and full of calories.
Trovek: Yes, they have a lot of places. I seem to remember a Hawaiian-Klingon Fusion restaurant which was petty good. ::she smirked, giving Foster a slight poke:: Just remember you still need to fit into the bridesmaid dress.
He huffed and held his hands up. On a good day he was reed-thin. Maybe with a few more kilograms he might go from ‘that blue ghost that haunts surgery’ to ‘almost muscular’
He would even take wiry because at least that implied strength. Right now, post surgery (and the fact that anesthetics made him feel ill… so he had spent a good deal of recovery picking at food he would have otherwise scarfed down) he looks less wiry and more … weedy.
Blackwell: I’ve been told Calories don’t count while you are on vacation - wisdom imparted on me by my father…which was how he justified trying out every single bakery, bar, and restaurant when we traveled.
Foster: Sounds like a fun time!
He had known Rue’s Dad, but never traveled with him. Now he wished he had.
Blackwell: So Doctor Trovek, Wyn - is there anything specific you might want to find on the space station, or try? ::her eyes moving towards Wyn:: in addition Black jack and Dabo Girls?
Trovek: I was hoping to find a dress, or fabric that can be turned into a dress... ::she paused, realizing this to be pretty boring:: But I am open to anything that doesn't land me in the brig.
He very gently elbowed Arys in a friendly manner.
Foster: Come on, if you don’t land yourself in the brig, can you really say you experienced DS9?
He was clearly joking.
Blackwell: ::She winked:: There’s lots to do..so we’ll find a little trouble, just not too much trouble.
Looking between the two, he managed a most innocent expression.
Foster: Hey, are you saying I’m going to lead you into trouble? Do you doubt me?
Blackwell: I doubt the Brig has as comfortable accomodations, and I don’t mind having a little bit of luxury on this trip. ::leaning back, pressing herself into the pillows with a content sigh:: As for myself - I’ll keep my eyes open and speak up if I have anything I have to see.
Trovek: Agreed. And I somehow doubt Taybrim and DeVeau would be particularly pleased to bail us out.
He chuffed a bit at this, knowing that in reality he was probably the most paranoid, safety-conscious person of the three already rather safety conscious people. He was the one who had lived through hell when getting drunk in a perfectly safe space. There was no way he would let loose somewhere like DS9.
He only joked about such things. And then when reality came, he was the painfully responsible one. Because he was also the doctor that saw the back end of too many decisions that started out with good intentions, and a little too much recklessness.
Foster: Probably not. Better not piss off the command staff.
He gave a melodramatic sigh, as if somehow Taybrim and DeVeau would be the ones to keep them in line and not his own hyperactive need for safety.
((Timeskip, a few hours later - Deep Space Nine))
Wyn didn’t know what he expected.
Not this.
It was crowded in a way that StarBase 118 could never be crowded. Even though there were ten times the amount of people embarking and disembarking every day at 118, there was something about the clean, efficient Starfleet architecture that allowed for excellent mobility in a way that the cramped, convoluted Cardassian architecture did not.
It was also dim, which was very comforting. So his eyes were happy, but the rest of his senses were on fire. The smells of the myriad of people who were close packed together combined with the noise of the crowd had him on edge in the exact opposite way of StarBase 118, where all of the hallways had noise-dampening and excellent ventilation, but the lights were always too dang bright.
So it was painful in a completely new and unique way. He was impressed to some degree.
Trovek: Honestly, I need a drink, preferably something containing alcohol. And there is a pretty famous bar here..
Foster: I could use a drink, too.
He said a little too fast. He wanted to get away from the smells and find somewhere a bit more quiet so he could center himself and get an orientation to this place.
Blackwell/Trovek: ?
Foster: I don’t know if we hit a busy time… or if it’s always this busy and we just push our way through.
Which wasn’t something he was especially good at. He liked meandering.
He also got lost incredibly easily.
Blackwell/Trovek: ?
Foster: Have you seen my sense of navigation? I can get lost between my quarters and sickbay if I don’t take the exact same route every day!
And that was the truth. He had squeaked by with a D- in astronavigation by cramming core concepts and asking the best student in class to help carry him across the finish line for the practicals. And paid them back in bartending parties for free.
But seriously, why would a surgeon need astronavigation?
Don’t ask that question.
Blackwell/Trovek: ?
They finally hit a jam-packed promenade full of shops all crammed together, brightly lit and buzzing. The smell of jumja assaulted their senses with a sticky caramel sweetness followed by the heady scent of too many people in too small of a space, enough raktajino to fill a swimming pool and a bunch of exotic liquors.
The sounds of dabo and gaming filled the air and the chatter of tourists swirled around them.
For a moment Wyn pinned his antennae down to the top of his head and froze.
Foster: Well, if this isn’t an assault to the senses…
Blackwell/Trovek: ?
Foster: Why do you think I want a drink? ::He huffed.::
The might end up in the brig after all..
Naw.
Blackwell/Trovek: ?
~*~
tags/tbc
~*~
Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Chief Surgeon
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0