Lt. Commander Yogan Yalu — Early-bird special
jkpbem
(( Crunchy’s Cafeteria, Maklau Beach, Risa ))
At 368 years old, Yogan was a fair bit older than most of the clientele at Crunchy’s Cafeteria, but not by much. The beachside eatery seemed to cater exclusively to retirees, and Starfleet officers who didn’t know better than to choose a meeting place based on a pamphlet found in a hotel lobby. It was just past 1600 hours and the dinner rush was in full swing. Still, the atmosphere of the place was pleasant enough, and the menu seemed decent, though Yogan wasn’t there to eat.
Absent-mindedly, Yogan swirled his frosty mug of Tiburonian Glurtch around, drawing small imaginary circles on the table with it. It was the real stuff, not replicated, which meant the clock was ticking for him to finish the woody beverage. It would go off if not consumed within an hour of serving, and be undrinkable. To keep pace, he took another drink as he allowed his thoughts to keep him company. There were a lot of them to do so.
He’d only today decided to leave his hotel room for something more substantial than a sandwich, and he’d had to consult a calendar to find out exactly what day it was. Time passed quickly during his self-imposed isolation, but not nearly as quickly as he’d have liked. The time that elapsed since Resolution was destroyed could still only be measured in days. Yogan hoped he would feel less terrible about everything as days turned into weeks, then months, and so on. But that seemed impossible at the moment.
Another draught of Glurtch went down and another round of thoughts followed. He wanted to be respectful of Genkos’ time, so he’d assembled a mental list of points he wanted to cover, in order starting with the most important, in the event their meeting needed to be cut short. As the Betazoid doctor entered the restaurant, Yogan waved him down before an overly attentive member of the wait staff attempted to shoehorn him at the depressing clutch of one-top tables in the corner. He stood up to greet him when he arrived.
Yalu: Genkos, thanks for making time for me.
Adea: response
Yalu: Please, sit down.
Yogan sat, and waited while a server came over to take Genkos’ order, then left again. Yogan drummed his fingers against his mug of Glurtch, just to give his hands something to do.
Yalu: I haven’t seen much of you since we were rescued. I know you’ve probably been asked this a million times, but I wanted to see if you were okay.
Adea: response
Yalu: And the brass are treating you well? Captain Nicholotti, too?
Adea: response
If they were on duty, or in really any other setting than a retirees’ greasy spoon, Yogan might not have had the guts to tackle the second question. In Yogan’s mind, Genkos was still the captain to his number one, but in reality, he had no idea what they were to each other anymore. If nothing else, friends.
Yalu: Sorry. I’m no Betazoid, but it seemed like something was happening between the two of you. I promise I can keep a secret if you’d prefer not to discuss it.
Adea: response
Tag / TBC
Lt. Commander Yogan Yalu
Helm Officer
USS Resolution NCC-78145
Justin D238804DS0