OOC: The flower can be seen here if anyone is interested: http://img1.etsystatic.com/il_fullxfull.285263077.jpg
((Starbase 118 Ops - Commercial Sector))
As usual, the Commercial Sector was a hive of activity during the early evening. Those who got off the main shift and didn’t feel like replicating something would make their way there - and it seemed that quite a few people employed that benefit of being on a Starbase. Alora was one of them. She often ate in the Commercial Sector, not because she didn't like replicated food, but it was a reason to get out of her quarters, spacious as they were, and to mingle with others on the base. Sometimes she met those whom she’d come to call friends. Sometimes, she met new people. That particular evening was without a specific goal other than satisfying her hunger, but when she saw a certain white-haired humanoid, Alora picked up the pace and trotted over to the director of intelligence.
Sol turned at the sound of a voice calling out to her a warm smile on her face.
Alora slowed down to come to walk beside the Intelligence Officer, a grin spreading over her face .
DeVeau: I’ve been meaning to come see you!
McLaren: :: tilting her head to the side. :: Oh really?
DeVeau: Yep, I have a little something for you, but at the moment I’m about starved. Have you eaten yet?
Sol shook her head.
McLaren: I've not yet, no. Have anything in mind?
Alora had what she considered eclectic tastes. She’d even eat Gagh if she was in the mood. That particular day left her without a particular desire for anything specific so she shook her head.
DeVeau: Not really, I’m good with anything. You?
McLaren: No, I'm not too terribly picky, so long as it isn't Ferengi inspired…
DeVeau: Well, I’m easy, so why don’t you pick.
McLaren: I saw a new Italian place that opened up just recently that I had been thinking about trying.
DeVeau: Oh yes! I’m down with that.
If they were authentic, even better. Alora missed having food /in/ Japan. It was never quite the same elsewhere, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t tasty.
McLaren: Sounds good to me…. I think its off in that direction. :: She pointed ahead of them. ::
DeVeau: Then let’s go! Alora grinned and made her way in the direction of the restaurants that lined the commercial sector, winding in and around the crowd.
DeVeau: So how are you feeling now that the mission is over?
McLaren: Happy to be back aboard the base… but things could have gone far more smoothly…
On that, they agreed. Far too much seemed to have spun out of control, and German had certainly been a large reason for that. Despite her anger, Alora was still grateful that her friend had made it out alive. And she was still sad that he was gone.
DeVeau: Yes. Yes they could have.
McLaren: At Least everyone got back in one piece… well mostly one piece…
Those poor drones. The Borg frightened her, but Alora could not help but have sympathy for those who had been assimilated, then were suddenly rescued to find themselves cognizant of their condition.
McLaren: What about you?
DeVeau: Grateful that, in the end, it turned out okay. Yes, despite everything, it could have been far, far, far worse.
DeVeau: So tell me, commander, now that we’re on shore leave, what sort of plans do you have for your free time?
Sol sighed slightly.
McLaren: Most of the time… my shoreleave looks a lot like my on duty time...
DeVeau: Are you serious?
DeVeau: Oh no...nonononono. We can’t have that. Okay, you and me, we’re going to do something. We’re going to do something fun, something that’s completely and totally unrelated to work.
Sol laughed slightly. That was often the response she got from anyone who found out how much her work kept her at work.
McLaren: You have a suggestion I take it?
DeVeau: Well, what sort of things do you /like/ to do that aren’t related to your job?
McLaren: Generally that involves a good book and a nice bottle of whiskey.
DeVeau: Books...books...we could do holonovel? What else ya got?
McLaren: Well, I'm also a musician.
Alora clapped, her eyes widening and glittering with the smile that spread over her face.
DeVeau: I didn’t know that!
Alora loved making music. Even better than that, she loved making music with other people. DeVeau: Sing? Play? What?
McLaren: Play the trombone, mostly.
DeVeau: We should start playing together! I mean, a trombone isn’t something I would normally think of, but I’m sure we could figure out a way to do some duets together. I sing, but also play piano, guitar, and the Vulcan harp. There are actually quite a few trombone and piano duets out there.
McLaren: Mmm, yea. That would be fun.
DeVeau: See? Then you can really say you took some shore leave!
McLaren: What styles do you normally play?
DeVeau: All sorts.
Alora ticked off a finger as she listed each
DeVeau:. Baroque, Classical, Romantic, Modern, jazz. I would say classical and romantic are what I play the most, but I like all kinds.
Sol shook her head, glancing in front of them to make sure they were still going the right way. McLaren: I mostly play jazz or swing and their varying sub-genres. :: She paused. :: I can sing a bit too, but I usually reserve that for the privacy of my apartment…
Alora's smile stretched into a grin. Maybe she could convince the woman to sing outside her quarters.
DeVeau: I like swing too. I can play it and dance it. Why don't you check into some pieces you'd be interested in doing, and I'll do the same. Then let's schedule a time to play together.
McLaren: Sure. I can do that. When do you want to do this?
DeVeau: Why don't you send me some days and times you're available. Otherwise, I'll have to kidnap you.
McLaren: I’ll make sure a few days are available then… wouldn't want to be kidnapped.
DeVeau: I’ll do it too. So...food. Food is good. My body is kind of annoyed at me that there’s no food yet.
Sol pointed up ahead.
McLaren: I think it's just around the corner there…
DeVeau: There’ll be food around the corner, food around the corner! Food around the corner for me, hallelujah brother!
McLaren: You sound excited.
DeVeau: Sorry, couldn’t resist. I start singing at random times. It’s a flaw of mine. Here is! The Italian restaurant was indeed all the rage. People were standing outside and waiting in line as the rush for food seemed to dominate the base. Perhaps it was because it was new, or perhaps it was just that good, but whatever reason, when Alora went to inquire about the wait, she whistled and turned to Solaris.
DeVeau: We’re looking at about forty-five minutes here.
McLaren: Wow, they really are popular.
DeVeau: I’m good with that if you are. Like I said, I’m easy.
McLaren: I can wait.
Lt. Commander Solaris McLaren
Director of Intelligence
Starbase 118 Ops
Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau
Starbase 118 OpsM239008AD0