JP/Backsim: Ensign Lyra Voss & Lt. Cmdr. Ross: Post Pasta Plans, Part I
Hannah S
(OOC: We continued our little pasta scene as a JP - so this takes place during last Shore Leave)
((Evan Ross’s Quarters; Upper Habitat Section, StarBase 118))
After his first ever Pasta venture, Ross was pretty sure this wouldn’t turn into a second career path for him. Intel was probably the safer call if you had no talent for cooking whatsoever. He was also pretty sure leading an Italian restaurant involved less clipboards than his current occupation. Without Lyra’s help, he probably would have burnt down the whole kitchen - and luckily, she had decided to stay for dinner without being his official restaurant co-founder.
He had never before realised how under-equipped he was for hosting a dinner party - his replicator was running hot from creating basic decor and dishes for the small table next to the simulated window. It took a grand gesture to wipe a bunch of books, PADDs and random objects from the tabletop, revealing how little he actually used the designated dining furniture of his small apartment - he threw Lyra an embarrassed side-glance, but luckily she was still busy in the kitchen area, finishing the sauce and fishing the pasta out of the boiling salt-water. His whole apartment smelt wonderful - the scent alone was completely different to the artificial odor of the replicator. He took a deep breath, savouring it for a moment, before he stepped back to the kitchen counter.
Ross: Are you still good on drinks?
Lyra looked back over her shoulder with a slight start at the question. Between the methodical work of finishing the pasta (adding the basil/garlic oil, stirring to emulsify, the last touch of freshly grated grana padano, final salt check), and the madhouse in her brain (pull it together, it’s just dinner with a friend, be normal, stop thinking about that little sparkle in his eyes when he smiles), she had momentarily been miles away. She looked at her glass like she’d forgotten it was even there.
Voss: Oh! Oh, I could take a top up, sure.
It couldn’t hurt to have a little more bourbon, she thought. Well… that was debatable. Whatever. It was worth the risk, if only to take her nerves down a notch. When his back was turned to grab the bottle, she quickly shook out her arms and rolled her shoulders. Chill out.
He wasn’t really an expert on hosting - this flat was the first fixed home he had moved into in decades. Was it showing?
Ross: Anything else? Some music maybe?
Hopefully she wasn’t into jazz. No matter the species, he just couldn’t get behind it.
She opened her mouth to answer the question, and then couldn’t help catching his silent prayer against jazz. She smirked. She did like some kinds of jazz - mostly the Terran twentieth century greats like Ella Fitzergald, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday - but this didn’t really feel like a jazz kind of evening anyway.
Voss: Has to be something Italian, right? Although my knowledge of Italian music begins and ends with opera, and that doesn’t really work for dinner. Computer, please play… ::trying to come up with the right phrase:: play Terran Italian classical music, instrumental, nineteenth century?
There was a soft beep of acknowledgement and then the sounds of a string quartet began filtering through the apartment. Lyra gave the pasta one final toss and then reached for the plates Evan had left for her near the stove. With a plate in one hand and tongs in the other, she tried to replicate that fancy little twist and swirl of pasta she’d seen at so many restaurants, but the technique was more challenging than it looked. Still, pasta made it to the plate. That’s what really mattered. A final drizzle of infused olive oil put a flourish on the whole thing.
He leaned on the counter and watched as she prepared the plates. Lyra clearly didn’t do this for the first time: Something about the string music and cozy atmosphere made her work of pasta-art almost seem surreal. This wasn’t his usual Tuesday night - maybe it was the fanciest Tuesday night this apartment had seen since his move-in date.
He was curious to hear more about her life pre-Starfleet.
Ross: So… what’s dinner culture like on Betazed?
She brought the two plates of pasta over to the small dining table he’d cleared off and set, and he followed her with their drinks. She could feel his small twinge of embarrassment that the table was usually a “dining” table in name only, but she ate ninety percent of meals at her desk, so this all felt very sophisticated by comparison.
Voss: Hmm, well, I feel like the chime thing is what we have a reputation for? It’s a little gong you’re supposed to ring throughout the meal to show your gratitude, but ::laughing:: it’s not actually that common. Or at least it hasn’t been for a century. It’s for formal dinner parties only at this point. Actually, the latest trend…
She paused for her first bite of pasta, and then had to stop and dramatically put a hand on her chest. The tomatoes had stewed down long enough to bring out their natural sweetness with a thick, almost jammy texture that coated every al dente pasta strand. The cheese and olive oil added a deep richness that was balanced out beautifully by the punch of spice from the red pepper. She watched Evan for his reaction.
He was curious to hear about this new tradition, but Lyra’s reaction practically forced him to try his pasta as well. He took a bite and immediately froze, unable to comprehend the explosion of taste on his tongue - it tasted nothing like any pasta dish he had ever had before. So much more… intense and rich.
Ross: …oh my…
Voss: ::grinning:: I mean, come on - are we good, or are we good? But anyway, yeah, the big thing on Betazed now is “fhalen iost,” which translates to something like “wandering meal.” Rather than sitting around one table, every dish has its own separate station and you’re supposed to mingle and chat and move around as you eat. Basically, ::laughing:: they’ve reinvented the cocktail party and they’re very excited about it.
That made him laugh.
Ross: Can’t wait until they find out about crime dinners. It’s when you eat and solve a fictional murder while you’re at it. Although I guess you guys would solve it within minutes. ::he grinned:: I take it, Betazeds are big on socialising then?
A dinner where you solved a fictional crime? Like… someone pretends to be murdered at the table? She was suddenly picturing someone keeling over in the middle of the salad course, flopping out of their chair and onto the ground. Betazoids would appreciate the drama, even if they’d know who did it. Drama was practically a required element at every party.
Voss: It’s a cute concept but… honestly, I hate it. My grandmother’s eightieth birthday party was a “fhalen iost,” and there were probably over two hundred people there? My ability to mingle is somewhat lacking, even on my best day, and that was… ::shaking her head:: yeah. Nine times out of ten, I end those parties overwhelmed, overstimulated, and still hungry. It’s rough.
She was laughing, but the truth was, she’d never felt cut out for Betazoid social life. Watching her grandmother work a room of party guests was mesmerizing - Ardeena knew exactly what to say, whose shoulder to tap, which ear to whisper into, when to cut with a joke, when to raise an eyebrow and walk away. She was the embodiment of the House of Eloquence, and people hung on her every word. Lyra just didn’t have that. She’d spent her whole life trying to learn it, but… it was like trying to sing a note outside her range. She could practice, she could push, she could rehearse again and again and again, but it… it wasn’t there.
Ross: You’re grandmother, huh? ::he echoed:: You mentioned her being the matriarch of your house? Doesn’t that make you…?
He had already guessed that he was dining in fine company - but a future matriarch was a whole different story.
She slowly put down her fork as her cheeks turned a touch darker.
Voss: ::sheepishly raising her hands like she’d been caught:: I, uh… yeah. My mother is the ascendant, but I’m… next in line after that. Four willing, it will be many, many years before I really have to worry about it, but… it’s kind of like watching a giant meteor slowly arc its way toward you. ::almost shuddering:: The whole thing is… ::there was a beat, and then she looked up at him:: Have you ever been to Betazed? Not that we always put House drama on display for guests but…
Lyra clearly came from a completely different world than him. Not only because they grew up on different planets - Ross had never worried about family reputations or dinner parties with over 200 guests. If anything he had felt a little lonely sometimes as a child. He slowly realised that their tendency towards social awkwardness came from completely different places. Maybe it was no wonder, considering the differences between Betazed and Earth.
Ross: Actually, yes. I went last year - for the first time. A good friend of mine - her name’s Alora… she also recently became the matriarch of her house. I think it’s the… 15th? ::he squinted:: Oh, I’m a terrible friend. I should remember. I visited her! Anyways. She invited a few friends, we stayed at her house and… oh my, I still think about the night sky out there. It was beautiful. I wish we would have had more time.
She couldn’t help a bright, bemused smile breaking through on her face.
Voss: Well, well, well! I didn’t take you for such a Betazoid social climber! The Fifteenth House is the House of Love and Joy. But there are a lot of houses - no one would fault you for forgetting. I could teach you a poem to remember all twenty, but Four willing, that’s information you’ll never need to know. The Betazed sky though… ::growing wistful:: yeah. There’s no other night sky like it.
Love and Joy. That actually explained a lot about Alora’s unbreakable spirit - even after losing her husband and raising her daughter on her own, she always spared a smile for the world around her. He couldn’t help but wonder what house Lyra belonged to. The one of curiosity and wonder?
Ross: Do you miss it then? Home?
She opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again as she thought about the answer. For a moment, her thoughts became a blur of memories - the piano bench’s creaky left front leg, Azi’s breath in the air on the walk back from the transpo station, hands that smelled like crushed spearmint, her father humming, her back pressed against the lacquered wooden door.
It was a terrible question to ask - he himself dreaded it and all its possible answers. And yet, he was genuinely curious to hear her answer.
Ross: I mean - not your family, the gigantic parties. But the place itself? Was it more rural or urban?
If her home was anything like Alora’s, it must have been close to heaven. A big house, surrounded by meadows and stars. Lights in every window.
The focus in the revised question let her sort through her thoughts a little easier. The place? She had a very soft spot in her heart for the place.
Voss: Bellonphain is a city, though it’s a small one. Right on the Thaxan Ocean. There’s a brilliantly cold sea breeze in the morning no matter the time of year, and all the buildings have this powdery white coating of salt, which makes the entire city sparkle in the sunlight. Our house is on the outskirts, on top of a hill. With a lake out back at the base. When I was growing up, my parents could hardly keep me inside - if I wasn’t out ice skating during the day, I was out with my telescope at night. It was… ::with a quiet smile:: it was pretty idyllic.
It sounded idyllic. While never getting the hang of forests and their gloomy, pressing atmosphere, Ross loved a good view of the sea: he enjoyed swimming as well and the idea of having a coast or a beach nearby was almost overwhelming. Maybe he should pay visits to Little Risa more regularly, although he had the feeling that Lyra’s home-coast was more of a rough, raw version of it.
The pasta, the music and the drinks melted into a cozy, dreamlike scenery. It was almost easy to talk about these things. Almost.
***
To be continued
Ensign Lyra Voss
Science Officer
Starbase 118 Ops
O240208LV1
and
Lt. Commander Evan Ross
Intelligence Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
O240009ER2