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Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

A SIMPLE DRINK AMONG NEW COLLEAGUES

STARDATE 57637.77
APRIL 11, 2381
2130 HRS

[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Between the pot-luck Commander Stark had coordinated, and bumping into Ensign Avirim the night prior to that, Fisher was starting to feel somewhat more acclimated to his newest assignment.

He was starting to make friends.

This was something he’d not really made time for in almost a decade. It wasn’t so much that he disliked the people he worked around before; in fact, it was quite the contrary in a lot of cases. There had been plenty of acquaintances that had come and gone throughout his various assignments and operations, many of whom he’d liked and even admired. Others had even held some kind of special place in his heart, in one way or another. But there had always been a lingering reticence when it came to honestly opening himself up to others, especially when most of those others couldn’t be trusted to know who he really was. Afterall, he’d been a spy, which had meant lying to almost everyone about everything.

It was often a very lonely existence.

But it was also a defense mechanism. He knew that the less true information people knew about him, the less likely they were to be hurt as a result of it. This had been the issue lingering in the back of his mind since the previous night, as he considered whether or not it was wise to open himself up to these people. Sipping the Irish Whisky on Ice in his glass, he thought about locking himself away in his work even more than he already had, and politely refusing any further social advances from the Theurgy crew. It was likely that he, or many of them would meet their deaths in the coming struggle to be waged. He could spare them a lot of anguish if he did.

He’d spare himself some too, he realized starkly, closing his eyes as he understood the selfishness of it all.

No, shutting himself out wasn’t the right answer. These people were going to need to trust and rely on him. Just as he was going to need to trust and rely on them. If he remained an outsider, he’d never gain or maintain the slightest form of that respect, and it’d be a detriment to the outcome of their mission. That was something no one could afford. Beside which, he’d grown weary of being alone for so long. He wanted to be friendly. He needed to be friendly. He’d given so much of himself over the previous decade, that he had little left to sacrifice beyond that of his sense of morality, and his actual life. It was time for him to enjoy a little more of a complete life, in spite of the potential repercussions that came with it.

‘Otherwise, what’s the point of it all?’ he thought to himself as he finished the last of his drink.

Taking a deep breath in order to dismiss the thought, he stood from where he’d been seated and approached the bar to get a refill. It was late, but Below Decks was still surprisingly busy. There were plenty of other crewmen and officers settled about, drinking, sharing stories, connecting with each other. It was a moderately inspiring thing to see, as they’d no doubt known that they were wanted dead or alive by half of the Galaxy but had still found the time to socialize with friends and comrades. He envied them.

“Another please.” He ordered of the bar steward as he approached.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #1 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]


Day four on the USS Theurgy … at this point Samantha had gotten the rundown from her CO and had given her own department they very same treatment. Then there had also been the staff mixer the night before. So the formalities were taken care of and she’d been able to slowly settle into a semblance of ‘home’ aboard the ship that was going to be her refuge for – if Ives was to believed – likely the rest of her potentially short life. It wasn’t quite the notion she would have subscribed to herself, but was fine with the possibility. Ever since her parents' death and that of her late husband there wasn’t all too much in terms of ‘living for’. And as it looked now, if the mission failed so critically that she wouldn’t come out of it at all, then that last sense of purpose was sort of taken care of as well. But just as the past, the future had to always be taken with a grain of salt. Because you were living in neither. So all of this, the ineluctable odds, the overwhelming threat and the desperation were not on the forefront of her mind when she strolled into Below Decks’.

The blonde had been working out in the holodeck, running the Four Mile Trail in Yosemite National Park on earth. In hindsight she had set the ambient temperature and time of day a little too hot. So even after a cooldown around Glacier Point, with the gentle breeze and the amazing views before exiting the program, the officer had still a healthy glow of moisture on her skin that, upon closer inspection, looked more like a light sprinkle of diamond dust. Still in her workout clothes, to vent body heat more easily through the functional fabrics and bare areas, the blonde tied her sweater around her waist, walking over to the bar, ponytail bouncing with every step. The counter was considerably deserted, yet almost all the tables but one, which also looked semi-occupied, were spoken for. In the periphery of her field of vision Samantha noticed one other patron at the bar but first focused on her own order. Smiling at the steward as he came over, she rested both her forearms on the counter, thus leaning onto it for support and slightly across it.

“I’ll take some water with isotonic nutrient mix five and a bowl of fried tube grubs with chili and garlic seasoning.” Not exactly a very sophisticated order, but it would get the job done even if it didn’t appeal to her emotional needs right then as well. Letting her eyes trail, after the steward acknowledged with a keen nod, blue orbs fell onto Andrew Fisher at the other end of the counter, whom she had already had a nice conversation with the night before. Plump lips pursing into a pleasant smile, the blonde held the waiter back. “Add a bourbon to that.” Now,, that was going to make her feel better. Moving her hand to the bowl of macadamia nuts on her end of the counter the diplomat skillfully pushed it to slide across the stainless steal and gently into Andrew’s arm, not spilling too much in the process. Detaching herself from the bar Samantha sauntered over to potentially the only person on the ship who’d be able to empathise on the struggles of joining the crew and having to take over a department of people, whom had been along for most of the road so far.  A good time to find out if she was the only one intimidated by that.

“I always thought an intelligence officer’s work was never done …” the diplomat introduced herself with a warm voice that could not possibly startle anyone, even if they were caught up in the most riveting daydreams and didn't get the 'nut hint'. “… what lead are we pursuing tonight? Mind if I sit in on the fun?” she stopped short of the space next to the Commander. Even if she was to disregard his professional interests, his gender was still just as good a motivator to pursue ‘a lead’ this late at night. Albeit of a different kind. Socialization, to an extent, was an important part of being a good officer, she had always felt like. Or maybe it was part of the professional diplomatic mantra. But people were an important part of what they fought for, no matter in which arena. Disregarding this important motivator, reducing them to a flock of individuals that needed to be kept at bay for the sake of not getting ‘tangled up’, made their whole sacrifice a little pointless, didn’t it? Because otherwise, once the battle was won, you’d still be alone. And that was a sacrifice no one should’ve been expected to make. The best time of her life had only come to be because she had opened up to someone, after all.

Man, this had gotten deep quick.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #2 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Stirred ever so slightly from an aimless thousand-yard gaze, Fisher turned his head to face the playful blonde that had slid the snack bowl across the counter into his resting forearm, sending a few of the macadamias cascading over the edge onto the stainless steel surface. An amused grin crossed his face as he gathered a few of the scattered nuts in hand, and casually tossed one into his mouth. Exhaling through his nostrils as he crunched down on the salted bar snack, his green eyes trailed up over Rutherford’s form as she approached him. She’d clearly come from an exercise session, something he’d been desperately hoping to engage in at some point but hadn’t yet found the time since coming aboard Theurgy. Not only for the practical reason of keeping in shape, but also to ease out some of the mounting tension in the muscles of his lower back, which was nearing the point of being unbearable.

“Tonight?” he asked, taking a moment to consider how to answer her question, before settling on blatant truth. “Tonight, we’re pursuing maudlin.” He teased her with a slight chuckle, looking back to the steward who’d returned with his replenished drink. With an appreciative nod, he accepted the already condensation dripping short tumbler, and brought it to his lips for a sip.

“...and you’re right, the job’s never done. But if I look over one more lack-of-progress report tonight, I’m gonna lose my proverbial shit.” He explained with a heavy dose of sarcastic truth, turning around to lean against the bar counter with his back now. He looked out over the lounge again and noticed all of the other patrons engaged in conversations and laughter. It’d been quite some time since he’d shared in that same level of enjoyment. There were a lot of lingering issues running laps in the back of his mind, and despite his best efforts to keep up a wall to hide that level of dourness from everyone else, he knew some cracks were starting to show. Anyone with half an ounce of outward empathy could’ve seen the mounting weariness in Fisher’s face, accompanied by the occasional twitch at the corner of his eyelids whenever a pang of backpain ran up the length of his nerves.

He shifted his gaze back to the beautiful blonde diplomat as the steward returned with a small tray containing the entirety of her order.

“The Doctor would probably order me to try and get some sleep if he knew how long I’d been going without it...” he paused a moment to press off against the counter, taking a step in the direction of the table he’d left a moment earlier. “...but Kobol ’s not here. At least, not that I can see.” With a playful wink and a wave of an empty hand, he welcomed along his diplomatic counterpart to join him back at his table. “C’mon, I can at least try and be good company while you get your post-workout tube-grub protein fix on.” He might have been suffering from a bout of moderate depression brought on by years of prolonged stress and anguish, but Fisher was defiantly determined not to let it be a hindrance or rule him when it came to developing professional or other forms of relationships with friends and colleagues.

Especially not when dealing with someone whom he’d seemed to share a commonality.

“Or if you preferred, I could bore you to death with more inane baseball chatter.” He teased.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #3 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]


Watching Fisher take the proverbial bait and pop it into his mouth was a rewarding sentiment. Even if no line was attached to it. From across the bar one could discern he was running on fumes. Not because of circles under his eyes, or dilated pupils, but because of his entire posture. She understood a lot was weighing on him. Intelligence was the foundation for the functionality of many departments, not alone hers. And with it came a lot of responsibility that resided in the details; like veracity, reliability, accountability … all values to consider. So getting a bit of protein and a few electrolytes in with the sob juice was non-negotiable. The blonde raised her brows as he asked back rhetorically – expectant of an ultimate reply. Without moving her head, blue orbs trailed off to the steward handing over the drink of the day, before reuniting with Andrew’s sage colored ones.

“Watered down whiskey, alone at the bar, baseball out of season for centuries …” Samantha sucked a breath of air through closed teeth with an audible, theatrical hiss. “I’d say you found it.” A small chuckle ensued at the expense of his dry humor. Watching the amber liquid vanish between the dark scruff and thin lips, the diplomat’s head tipped to the side as Fisher turned around to kick back against the counter. “Hmmm … that’s why I push reports to the morning, so I have all day to light a blazing fire under everyone, instead of wallowing in a slow-burning one all night.” she shrugged, following his idle look around the room. “At night, I find, you’re just hurting yourself.” The man was one conversation about china patterns short of drifting off into a coma it seemed, and while the hour certainly warranted a cautious sense of inevitability, she hoped he would not give into it just now.

Letting her probing glance ice off the intelligence officer only once her order arrived, the woman picked up a few grubs and popped them into her mouth. The crunchy, spicy flavor instantly making the black hole in her midst churn for more. But her stomach wasn’t the only part of her body that was intrigued. “Huh, I find it more curious that you’d need our dear doctor to tell you that.” Samantha chuckled, picking up her small tray to follow the invitation with a gentle shake of her head and sway of her ponytail. A table was certainly more comfortable than the bar. Picking up the bowl of macadamia nuts to tag along, the diplomat ultimately settle all of it into the center of the table. Descending down upon a comfortable chair opposite Drew she crossed her legs, only leaning forth to reach for the bourbon and ultimately the man’s glass to connect with.

“To strangers in the night.” She cheered before taking her first comfortable sip leaning back into the soft cushions. The liquid left a comfortable burn down her throat as it trailed into the abyss. A smug grin emanating from plump lips at his teasing. “I thought the goal was for YOU to fall asleep.” she laughed because surely, talking in depth about baseball could potentially have an adversarial effect. “So tell me, Commander, what was crossing your mind just then, before I invaded your bubble?” she queried. “And if it’s really lack-of-progress reports then use your best spy-magic and make something up.” she smiled, bringing the cold glass to her temple to chill her skin. Sometimes people were more likely to open up to someone who didn’t pose a threat. Even if it was the most minute one. A counselor could be intimidating, so professional, so unmasking. Seldom did people face what was troubling them before they heard themselves say it out loud. And for what Samantha was concerned, Andrew and her were in quite a similar boat, if not a ship. She had read his file. The distinction, the loss, the conviction. She could probably tell how he felt only by exploring her own feelings. But of course, it was always easier to explore someone else’s.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #4 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Offering a slightly weary sigh of amusement, Fisher then nodded in acknowledgement of her succinct analysis of his endeavor for a drink fueled refuge from the deeper more emotional thoughts passing through his consciousness.

“Yeah, I’ve always been pretty good at finding it.” He admitted candidly, with an almost indistinct tone of sarcastic delight to his voice.

As his blonde companion outlined her method for avoiding the sleepless nights, he was so accustomed to, he realized that he’d probably come off as complaining in regard to his immediate subordinates. In fact, everyone else in the Intelligence Department had been performing admirably, in fact far better than he’d anticipated or ever experienced before in similar operations. They were giving him as much actionable information as was available to them, but therein lied the problem. There certainly wasn’t a lot of it, and certainly not enough to help their effort just yet. The enigma that was the enemy working to destroy everything and everyone from within, was just that, an enigma. It was such a massive threat looming over them; as if a tower were about to topple over, and instead of being able to tell everyone which direction to run in order to avoid being crushed, he was blindfolded in the midst of a blackout under a moonless sky.

“Maybe I’ll try that.” The deftness of which he could lie to someone, would’ve impressed even the most skilled of detectors, as the sad truth of it was that Fisher had felt he’d deserved to spend his nights in restless fits of broken sleep. He had been deliberately shouldering the guilt of the failure of Intelligence services to have recognized the situation unfolding around them. Guilted by the fact, that if it wasn’t for the valiant crew of this ship, he might never have known about it until it was too late to make any difference in the matter. It was supposed to be his job to see these things coming. To ferret out and expose the nefarious forces that would seek to destroy everything he held so dear, warning those with the power to stop it.

But, he had failed to do that, and it was killing him inside. Besides, he had been asleep long enough, and now people were paying dearly for it.

“Insomnia.” He tried to explain away his self-imposed torture. “Besides, I’d rather not trouble the Good Doctor with worry over my sleep patterns. I’m a considerate guy like that.” He fell back on humor in an attempt to try and alleviate the added guilt he felt for having lied to her twice now.

Old habits died-hard for Fisher as the table he’d led Rutherford to had been the furthest from the bar, situated in a corner and offering the best most complete view of the rest of the Below Decks lounge. Absently he’d even taken the chair with it’s back to the large view ports behind him, so that subconsciously he could better mind his surroundings. The tradecrafts of a spy were so deeply woven into the minds of operatives like him, at least it had to be if they wanted to survive long enough to make it where he was now. It had served him well in that it kept him alive, but it had also done a disservice to his deeper psyche, leaving him with a permanent feeling of suspicion. Over the course of time he’d managed to temper that constant state of awareness so that it didn’t completely overwhelm him, but there was simply no way he could completely turn it off.

A keen observer might have even picked up the subtle way his green eyes seemed to dart about the room for the faintest of moments, taking an immediate mental image to be processed for anything out of place.

He smiled genuinely to the pleasing face sitting across from him as she clanked her glass against his own, and in accordance with the tradition he threw back a good sip of his cooled Irish Whisky. He appraised her for an imperceptible length of time, admiring the ever so subtle Vulcan features that belied her heritage, and those blue eyes that probably could have disarmed the staunchest of foes with a simple fierce glance. In the moment, Fisher felt his weariness fade as he relished in having someone to just sit and talk with, who wasn’t being paid to listen. It felt like normal, or at least how normal was supposed to be, and reminded him of simpler times before he got involved in lying as a profession. It also brought him back to the two lies he’d already passed off, innocent enough as they were, they were still lies.

“Honestly, I was thinking about this.” He began to explain, gazing to her, then everyone else, and back to her again. “Just getting to know someone. Talking. Being social. Doing all the things that normal people are supposed to do. The things I used to do, before I became... well, who I am.” He was surprised at how candid he was being, and immediately felt a sense of apprehension about continuing on. Every ounce of his training was screaming at him to seal the leak now, before he let out something that could really be used against him. The very thought that his training had conditioned him to be concerned about someone like her, using something against him only intensified the frustration he was feeling. Taking a longer sip of his whisky, he took solace in the cool burn that ran down his esophagus.

“Believe it or not, I was trying to find a way to convince myself to just be honest, again.” With an obvious sarcastic chuckle, he leaned against the back of his chair and grinned widely with incredulous frustration at the irony of it all.

"Isn't that ridiculous?" he asked as he shook his head, only stopping to gaze into her eyes so as to gauge her reaction.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #5 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
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For someone dealing in the individuality of realities, Samantha was habitually aware of the differentiation between a flat out lie and a little white one. There were these empty phrases you told someone out of mere consideration. To let them have a point, they might not otherwise have had. To agree to concessions, that didn’t mean anything to you, but potentially a great deal to your opponent. And lastly, to put someone’s mind at ease, even though it was high time to worry. These weren’t all lies that you told at the negotiating table. They could be very well utilized in any social interaction. Which, in basis, where just negotiations between two or more individuals, lacking an official setting. So, while she wasn’t a counselor, the officer was readily astute to the finer nuances of people’s wants and needs, delusions and daemons, and how to read them.

Moving slightly, to meld the soft cushions into the gentle curves of her physique, it did not escape the blonde that their seating arrangement wasn’t coincidental. Cowering in the corner against the bulkhead like a watchdog, the handsome intelligence officer’s sage coloured eyes skimmed the surroundings casually. Gaze almost on her but just not quite, while blue orbs fixed the slightest motion of his. It was sad, a little, to expect an ambush in every setting. Never to fully relax, never fully off duty. She understood the sentiment! Being a diplomat seeped into every little task, every little conversation she had. It was all she was, basically, so she could relate. The only difference being, that it seemed like her occupation seemed a far more natural one to absorb into every facet of your life. Sure, part of why she was able to sleep in peace was probably her ¼ Vulcan heritage and the teachings of her grandfather. But it too was, to a sizeable extent, the fact that diplomacy was, in fact, the art of life.

As Andrew finally spoke again, his eyes were fixed on hers once more, a small crease framing his thick brows, it seemed. A silent herald of the painful notion self-awareness could be. And again, Samantha was convinced, that her occupation was the more helpful one in dealing with the human side, they all had. They weren’t machines, even if they sometimes were expected to act as one. She smiled lightly, biting her bottom lip, sucking a little leftover bourbon flavor from the soft pillow, as he spoke. It was always such a contradiction when someone referred to normality. There was no normal. Normal was the cross-section of the majority of any given situation. For Klingons extreme violence was normal. For Andorians extreme cold was normal. She’d consider neither to be. For humans being social was, by biological and societal standards, normal. And with his own judgment Drew seemed to allude to the fact that he thought he wasn’t … ‘normal’. But he was still human, wasn’t he?

„I think you are doing pretty good.“ The diplomat replied calmly, reassuringly. Even tipping her glass towards him subtly, before taking another sip. She left it open which of the various statements she referred to. In her mind it applied to all of them, but Andrew could pick and choose which ones he’d prefer, to shape his reality. “It doesn’t feel to me like you’re having a hard time right now.” She continued, furrowing a brow only ever so slightly, as she tilted her head, trying to gauge him better in return too. She saw a lot that she remembered. Many telltale signs, triggering uncomfortable memories, though not all of them bad. The forced posture, the weary look when not in full-on spy mode, the battery indicator well in the red. “I know what the job can do to you. How it can be a part of you, even long after you chose to live a different life. But you can’t just be your profession and deny yourself everything else.” The officer continued, underscoring every argument with the deep-rooted, genuine empathy that could only suggest personal experience.

Because, even though by the time Sam had met Brody, he had already been done with Intelligence Services for a while, he was still a spook, through and through. Hell, if things had come differently, he’d probably always would be. Lying awake at night beside her, lord knew what lucid nightmares going through his head. But it was also the unwavering commitment and sacrifice that had attracted her to him in the first place. That thing that which destroys us, binds us, after all. “I mean, you’re a grown man, evidently.” She smiled quietly, taking a once over of his fitted uniform, tailored perfectly to every nuance of his trim physique. “I don’t presume to be able to tell you what to do or how to deal. Frankly, I didn’t even expect the conversation would be this loaded when I came over to you.” And while saying that the blonde leaned forward slightly to give him a conspicuous look, before settling back into her chair. “But I once knew someone, like you, and the best decision he ever made was to let someone in.” she shrugged, the straight face belying the sorrow the memory held. “It doesn’t have to be me.“ she paused, but not intent to let the conversation culminate in such a pathetic manner. “That Yridian over there looks like a good listener too.” she chuckled, pointing over her shoulder to the alien with the big ears on the far end of the lounge.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #6 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

“Well, that’s good. I guess that means I haven’t devolved into a full-on noir headcase.” He sarcastically teased, a somewhat real yet somehow also false smile crossing his face, he nodded in absent acknowledgement of her evaluation of his attempt at being ‘normal’.

“Yet.” He added dryly, letting his smile shift into a fully genuine one as he took another sip of his whisky.

He let himself grow silent as the conversation between Intelligence Chief and his Diplomatic counterpart had turned down a deeper path. In a lot of ways, they were opposite sides of the same coin, and he could distinctly see how their dynamic was evolving in such a short period of time. But given the immensity of, and ultimately grave situation facing them, it was entirely reasonable. There simply wasn’t enough available time for them to spend it indulging in the more usual weeks of inane chatter, tap-dancing around issues, and trying to avoid the inescapable realities that haunted them. Fisher knew this, and also knew it was why he had subconsciously decided to be so candid with her so early on.

He then allowed himself an instant to examine the finer nuances of the woman sitting before him. He could see, that beyond the veil of her more obvious attractive features; full lips, sculpted cheekbones, sharp brows, alluring neckline, piercing blue eyes and athletically curvaceous and appealing body, was a previously hidden trait that he’d only now started to understand and recognize, mirrored somewhere within her. It was something personal. He wondered what it had been, that was acting as the tie that seemed to bind them together. An instant later it had suddenly dawned on him as he’d mentally reviewed a summary of details regarding her personal file, and remembered something that fit the bill, or rather someone. The someone that he now surmised had gifted the simple yet clearly special, Vulcan pendant that now hung so gracefully around the base of her sweat glistened collar.

He’d not personally known her late husband, but now realized that he’d missed an important aspect when he’d earlier reviewed hers and subsequently his dossiers. Others might have considered that level of fore inspection odd, or even creepy, but for Fisher it had simply been another instinctual formality of his position. He had to understand his companions, so that he could identify potential threats to be wary of, or allies he could trust in. It bothered him moderately then, that he’d blindly glossed over the obvious signs of an altered service history in Brody’s file, that he and other spies like him found written so as to excuse any covert operations they’d been a part of. There were always subtle patterns to the often-mundane stories Intelligence handlers fabricated to fill in those gaps, that could be deciphered if you knew how and where to look.

He listened to her continue to explain her reasons for why he might continue to be open with her, confirming that she’d indeed been thinking of her late husband, though without explicitly stating so. The genuine nature of her tone of voice only spoke to and reinforced the legitimacy of what he was feeling; an interest in exploring this new yet clearly beneficial and necessary friendship. A feeling that was compounded by her attempt to lighten the mood with humor, pointing out the Yridian crewman sitting a few tables over as a potential listener of sorts.

“From what I understand, Yridians have exceptional hearing. Second only to Ferengi. For all we know, he’s heard every word of our conversation already.” He mused, looking over and narrowing his eyes in a suspicious yet clear playful manner.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #7 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift 
[Show/Hide]


From the way Andrew let her talk for the better part of a minute, starting and finishing her own argument, to circle back on the light air they’d started out with, Samantha could tell that he didn’t want to talk about it. At least not on those terms. Which was perfectly alright. She had given him many leads to pursue, many options to choose from, and he had picked the sly comment on the Yridian. It wasn’t that the blonde didn’t appreciate the lighter air, but as she looked back at the man, nibbling on her plump lips, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit torn. There were many ways to the core issue, obviously, and she’d play it through any angle the man would want. So far, he hadn’t given her any indication that she’d overstepped any boundaries. Or maybe he was just that good at pretending. At any rate, it would be intriguing to find out.

Feeling the delicate metal of her Vulcan pendant between her thumb and index finger, fiddling back and forth, it was one of those absent-minded gestures you only realised when you wrapped your mind around stopping to do them. Letting the golden glimmer fall back against her radiant skin, the officer let her hand slide to the armrest of her chair where it would reside more comfortably. There was a meaning, dormant between the golden swirls, just like there was beneath the lines and paragraphs of her Starfleet personnel file. Not everything was outright said or implied. It didn’t have a place neither here nor there. It was very personal and maybe hypocritically so, the diplomat could be very protective over whom she’d let into the know. After all, she was always more comfortable at the advantage.

“Oh they do.” Samantha agreed, crossing her legs the opposite direction. “Maybe he has, do you want to call him over for a reading?” she suggested, turning her torso once more, elbow with the drink sliding over the backrest as her body twisted, ready to give the Yridian man – or what she assumed to be a man … what did Yridian women look like?! Anyways – a beckoning wave if she wasn’t stopped. But it didn’t really matter whether Andrew intervened or not, she didn’t follow through with the threat. One conversation partner was probably the most, the poor Intelligence Chief could deal with tonight. Baby steps. Chuckling to herself at his reaction the blonde relaxed back straight into her seat, another swig of bourbon following the path of the amused chortle.

“By the way.” The officer beamed, siting up a little straighter at the revelation of an intriguing topic. “How did your briefing with Ives go?” After all, they were the only two department heads that had arrived recently. The last two to complete the set, to be precise. "And don't forget to eat your nuts, or you'll feel like a planet is sitting on your head tomorrow."

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #8 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

There had in fact been an ounce of concern now building in the back of Fisher’s mind; that he’d made a vital mistake in initially indulging Rutherford with the unabashed truth of his thoughts. That he’d inadvertently led her down a troubling path that had stirred some painful memories of his, and worse, of her own. The world was hastily becoming a worrisome enough place, and that was without him so headily engaging in these more depressing ventures of introspection. That wariness about having exposed too much of himself too soon, having potentially scared the one person in a long time that he’d managed to make a deeper connection with, was suddenly very strong. And as if a life preserver had been thrown to a man fallen overboard; he’d felt the need to cling onto his sense of humor again. It’d become an instinctual reaction of his underlying nature, that when he felt the need to protect himself, and to an extent his companions, whether or not they needed or wanted that protection, he’d shut down and rebuild some of, or even all of those emotional walls.

Humor was the only escape that didn’t cause damage to his psyche, and thankfully, Sam had been there to give him that escape.

“Nah. I’ll let him be.” He played along, embracing that escape. He then leant across the table just a little and whispered softly enough that she’d barely be able to understand him. “For now, at least.” As he sat back again, and after she’d made her inquiry into his meeting with the Captain, he took the bait and acceded to her recommendation, reaching for another couple of the salted macadamias. Popping a few into his mouth, he crunched down onto them for a moment before answering.

“Surprisingly well enough, actually.” He explained between his chewing. “He...” there was a hesitation as Fisher wondered what gender to use when speaking of the Captain, as there had been no general preference for one form over the other. “He is an intense person.” He settled on male in the moment, just for simplicity’s sake. “But there’s a prevalent sense of absolute control, and calmness about him. It’s honestly kind of incredible when you think about it. All the weight on our shoulders; it pales in comparison to what he’s probably weathering. I mean, he’s responsible for each of us, and as such is in a way entirely responsible for the overall outcome of this little resistance movement. But if you were to gauge his grasp on all of it. Hell, take his pulse even, and I doubt you’d see any kind of deviation beyond normality.”

“I’d hate to step into the batter’s box with him staring me down from the mound.” He explained in the form of a baseball analogy, as he polished off the last of his whisky and set the glass back down onto the table with an audible clatter as the ice jostled about within it.

“But, yeah! I’d say it went well. We have a broad avenue of options to explore, some of which might intersect with what your people might be working on.” However honest he’d been when delving into his own emotions and thoughts earlier, he was now equally as vague in expanding on what actions he and his department were about to undertake. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the woman sitting across from him, in fact he probably trusted her more than he reasonably should have, perhaps even for the most base of reasons, but his training overrode that sentimental feeling when it came to his job. He’d known more than a few handlers that had been too liberal with operational details, and as a result had cost people their lives. He wasn’t about to make that same arrogant mistake.

“He also granted me my license to kill card, again. One more human, and two non-humans and I get a complimentary frozen yogurt.” He was of course joking, but two tables over their Yridian friend suddenly turned to face both him and Rutherford with serious concern in his face. Fisher cocked his head to the side as he caught sight of the movement, and with playful intrigue watched the crewman stand in an apparent panic, moving for the lounge exit. A full toothy grin crossed his face as their alien eavesdropper turned back to look to them one last time, and Fisher couldn’t help but offer a cruel little wave good-bye.

The crewman backed out of the lounge and bumped into another pair of Officers as they were about to enter before making his way out of sight around the corner.

Fisher looked back to Sam, unable to contain his laughter for a moment.

“I’ll apologize, in the morning.” He winked to her.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #9 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]


Did Samantha Rutherford ever worry about getting someone killed, due to her work, or a decision she’d made while on duty?! Well, that was probably a tricky question, though the simple answer would be ‘No’. Because diplomacy was something that hardly ever dealt with immediate ramifications. A diplomat’s doing was usually only felt months or years after. There was no sense of urgency when considering the impact of one’s actions, most of the time. Treaties could be amended if mistakes were made. But of course, there was always the ‘human’ aspect too. Something you sometimes had to ignore, when focusing on an issue that would affect billions. In that regard she envied everyone who only dealt with their immediate surroundings, like a security officer or a doctor. It seemed far simpler, far more tactile, at least what the scope of your actions were concerned. Yet the diplomat had to admit that about 90% of what happened after her job was done, she had no way of even knowing. So, in that regard, the people in her immediate vicinity, were probably safer, than those obscure souls on the other side of the Federation.

Biting her bottom lip at his reply to her dare, white teeth broke free of rosy confines, as her plump lips curled into an amused grin. Pondering her response to his chickening out, the blonde figured the most logical reply – though not very Vulcan – was the most obvious one. “Bwak Bwak Bwaaak, Bacawk!” she sounded, her voice pitched, increasing in volume from a barely audible clucking to a readily discernible one. A couple of heads turned on nearby tables, as was evident in Andrews sage-colored eyes. Noticing the notion, the diplomat looked over her shoulder abruptly, only to have a few faces stare at her. Cringing visibly, she raised a hand coyly. “Sorry! … sorry.” she apologised, this time her voice calming down towards the end, before turning back to the man with a chuckle. “Tough crowd.” she mimed, sinking a bit further into her seat and taking another swig.

Luckily, she herself had steered the conversation into a semiserious alley by then. Not too deep to trigger Drew, not to fluffy to annoy the audience. Light and surfacy, like the best negotiations went. Bringing her free hand to her face, the blonde started to nibble on the tip of her index finger, as she listened. Letting out an affirmative chuckle as Andrew circled in on his opinion of Ives. Her thoughts exactly. “It’s like meeting Captain Ahab, halfway through the story. Gathering his crewmen for the rousing speech, conveying the single purpose of their voyage … justice.” the woman mused, concluding with a self-ironic chuckle and a subtle shake of her head. Blue eyes dropping to the table in thoughts. It was a little bit foreshadowing, sure, and maybe not the perfect metaphor. But the connection, her very own meeting with Ives had left in her mind was, ominous. She just hoped they wouldn’t continue to follow Melville’s prophetic plot beyond that point.

Looking back up at Andrew, as he belted out a rather obscure reference, Samantha had to double take the whole sentence, a curious smile growing on her face. "The batter’s box … I don’t suppose it’s the same as pancake batter.” she concluded with an irked brow, a warm smile, shaking her head to let the notion go. A mere series of slow nods following, lower eyelids slightly masking her inquisitive, azure irises, in contemplation. “Probably.” she agreed quietly. “But don’t expect me to tell you about it!” the blonde chuckled, calling him out, though not maliciously so. Leaning forward to cup a few chilli grubs with her palm, the diplomat popped them back into her mouth. She knew that whatever the Intelligence Department would unearth, under Fisher’s fruitful tenure, would find its way to her through official channels, on a need to know basis.

It was entertaining though, how they stumbled from serious to lighthearted, to serious, to lighthearted, in the span of their entire conversation. “Oh!” she chuckled. “I can give you a list right now and I will order your frozen yogurt to go!” she perked up in her seat enthusiastically, only to follow Andrew’s gaze past her to the other side of the room. The Yridian was jumping up and turning to leave in a hurry. Almost falling over a stool, he bumped into someone on the way out. Raising her free hand to her hilariously gaping mouth, the officer gasped comedically before turning back to the intelligence officer with a hearty laugh. For a moment they laughed together, and it didn’t file like they were who they were here to portray. It didn’t feel like they were thrust into this nightmare, with a scissor and some fishing line, to fix it. It didn’t feel like – how the captain said – a mission they could potentially not return from. They were just two people. And as the reboant laughter died down, Samantha was still left with the feeling of gratitude, to have experienced this moment.

“IF you can get close enough again. It seems like you spoiled your chance to get that list down to two. Does the captain know about this? It feels like he should know about this.” she mocked, but the wink was well received, if not with a slight rosy hue to her cheeks.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #10 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Fisher’s gaze had momentarily shifted away from her; he’d been more than amused at the prospect of it, but had ultimately and politely refused her invitation at interrogating the Yridian crewman. So, an instant later when he’d heard the sound of clucking blaring out at him from her direction, he half-wondered if he’d suddenly started hallucinating. Instead however, his attention had again been stolen away by her charm, and his eyes returned to her face, where he saw his blonde companion attempting an indescribably cute impersonation of a chicken. He shook his head and again smiled in delight as she mockingly teased him over his balk, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the confused faces of other patrons turning to look in their direction. He felt his face redden ever so slightly out of shared embarrassment and nodded at those who were staring.

“It’s okay. She’s just practicing an accent for the next round of avian diplomacy. You can go back to your drinks.” He teased as the other patrons each turned back to their own conversations, having clearly derived an obvious sense of entertainment from the two Chief Officers.

Fisher couldn’t help but chortle as she apologized and sank back into her seat.

After a moment of awkward silence had passed, he’d offered his remarks on Ives, only to then listen to and in fact agree to a certain extent with Rutherford’s own initial appraisal of their new Captain. But whereas Ahab had been a man torn by a need for vengeance and retribution, Ives seemed to be more driven by an understanding of the horrifying consequences that would be rendered if he didn’t pursue this particular white whale. Ahab had been concerned only with himself. Ives was concerned with his crew, and beyond that the greater Galaxy of people who would face extinction at the hands of an unseen enemy. But still, there were parallels that could be drawn from a sheer romantic aspect of the Moby Dick story. The Theurgy itself even made for one hell of an analogy of the Pequod, for it too had sustained years of damage in pursuit of an obscured foe, with more than a few replacements made along the way; himself and his compatriot across from him to name a few.

Like her, he’d tempered his thoughts regarding the similarities between story and reality, as he understood how Moby Dick had ended in tragedy.

His use of a baseball analogy for Ives instead, had been meant to serve as a means to bring hope back to their conversation; there were hundreds of ancient Earth ballgames that had been won by teams that had been down and out for most of them, only to surge back to victory in the end. Those victories were often sealed by players that specialized in high-tension situations, called Closers, who would often times face the most feared of opposing players, but would regardless rise to the occasion and get things done when it mattered most. Ives had reminded Fisher of some of the best Closers to have ever played the game, who with intensity and confidence didn’t care who stood against them.

But then again, Sam had brought him back from the brink of taking things too seriously. He’d rolled his eyes with a sense of gaiety as she missed the reference, reminding him that not everyone knew what he was talking about when he made his baseball references. Though, he had also considered and even preferred the idea that she had understood him and had been playfully teasing him again. But as he’d explained in minor detail the aspects of his meeting with Ives, he’d almost lost himself in the cerulean sea that was her eyes. Having had to practically pry his gaze away from her in an effort to prevent himself from balking further, deciding to add another bit of levity to their conversation. Something she too had doubled down on, promising him a means to filling out that silly ‘license’ to kill check list that he’d joked about.

He honestly hadn’t taken the idea of their Yridian friend listening in on their conversation very seriously, but when said crewman had reacted so verbosely, he knew he had to have even more fun with it. Though Sam may have been right about how difficult it might have been to make an apology to the poor fellah. Still, that didn’t stop him from enjoying it a little more. “Oh, I have my ways. Just because it’s an apology, doesn’t mean it has to come traditionally.” He began to explain. “I wonder if Yridian’s are allergic to dairy products.” He then wondered aloud as he scratched the stubble of his chin, thinking on how he would go about prolonging the silliness of what had just transpired. Fisher had a well-documented mischievous past, that had earned him more than a few unofficial and even official reprimands.

With a sigh, he let his hand leave his chin and come to a rest on the surface of the table between them, his wandering interest snapping back from plotting as she poked fun about alerting the Captain of his mischief. Tilting his head ever so slightly, he raised an eyebrow so as to challenge her.

“Oh really? Because if Ives’ asked, I was planning on saying it was your fault.” He smiled broadly again.

“That it was your cute chicken impersonation that scared him off.”

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #11 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]


Muffled laughing into the neckline of her sports-top, chin pulled to the hollow between her collarbones, Samantha shook lightly with the uncontrolled exhales, hanging low in the confines of the comfortable chair, as Andrew made up an excuse for her on the fly. Obviously, a little trick of his trade too. He could be so suave if something pertained to his profession, yet so unreadable and almost awkward when things got a little closer to the core of who he was as a man, the blonde deducted. It was a tough secret to keep, who you were, once all the pretences and duties were stripped away. And while she would’ve gladly dived into that treasure trove of mixed emotions with him, she was merely left hoping he’d be able to with someone. Anyone. Making her wonder if he ever had.

The air between them grew thick with the unspoken, for a little while, as she could tell a lot of what she’d said was striking a nerve, treading off a thought process, but the results of those were not readily revealed to her. Drew was playing a lot of things very close to the vest and it made her want to find out what these were even more. The woman had always had an inquisitive nature, though surely not by any measure comparable to his. But her work too relied on finding things out about people, or at the very least relying on the information provided by the likes of the rugged officer across from her. The man whose every line, wrinkle or scar told a story. Emotional or otherwise. But regardless of all that, she felt like she could trust him. Not only as a fellow officer, where the trust aspect was basically mandatory, but as a human being. She figured that if they were to end up in the thick of it, when all talk failed, he’d know what to do. So, it was only fair that, while talking was still an option, she’d be the one doing the majority of it.

When Andrew finally did speak, mentioning him having his ways, Samantha gratified the sentiment with raised brows. She was sure he did. Surely those kind eyes and charming glimmer were not only dispensed in a private setting. Hell, from all she gathered so far there was no ‘private’ setting on the man. His operating system simply hadn’t gotten that particular function installed. “Why?!” she blurted out at his peculiar ponderings. “You’re planning to push a pie into his face?” Amused chuckling turned into laughter once more and despite everything, the silence in between, the unspoken thoughts, she quite enjoyed that aspect of their newly formed, social relationship. “I don’t know much about Yridian customs, but I don’t think that would be considered an apology in either culture.” She chortled, settling down from the moment with a relieved sigh. It was good to laugh. Hell, they were easily the two people in the whole lounge with the most fun. Time was flying by and one by one the other patrons were leaving for the night.

“Oh really …” she mirrored his sentiment with raised brows and an inquisitive, almost challenging stare. “I think Ives would know better than to believe a member of any species would run away from me instead of towards me.” The diplomat told in a mockingly boastful manner, slightly shimmying her slender shoulders for good measure. But with his last addition, a warm, comfortable smile returned to her plump lips and her body relaxed back, calm into the chair. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed seeing him smile, hearing him joke, feeling him relax. His sage-colored eyes almost taking on the color of lime. “So, you thought it was cute.” she nailed him, but only mildly. She should’ve said ‘even you’ to underline her previous argument.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #12 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

It’d been a long time since Fisher had laughed as much as he had been this evening, and an even longer time since he’d made someone like Samantha Rutherford laugh along with him. The deeper meaning behind that fact had immediately stirred some unpleasant memories loose, but in an instant, Fisher had outright suppressed them. Like her, he had also closely known someone that had meant a great deal to him, but unlike her with Brody, those details hadn’t made it into any official reports or files regarding his personal history. He’d deliberately neglected to mention any word of that someone to his handlers, so as to make easier on himself to deal with the associated guilt. The memories had been deeply buried away in the darkest parts of his subconscious, where they were meant to stay forgotten, because the anguish of them had nearly undone him once before.

However, as he’d managed to repress that memory one more time, the intense feeling of caution that accompanied it had once again been stirred and lingered on longer than he would’ve liked.

Especially considering how much he’d been enjoying the night in the company of someone as pleasant as Sam was. It was good to laugh, even better to make someone else laugh, and she’d been doing plenty of it thus far. It had worked as a form of cathartic healing, doing wonders to ease the stress and tension that had been mounting from the assignment aboard Theurgy. It had also been fulfilling that original desire Fisher had been seeking out before he’d even sat down for this evening of deep thought and genuine laughter. It had given him that connection that he’d desperately wanted and needed in order to deeply understand what he was struggling for. There was a point again, even if it might have been for the simplest of motivations, like getting to enjoy more conversations and laughter with her.

With an authentic smirk of appreciation, Fisher appraised the manner in which she seemed to challenge his ponderings.

“Clown show comedy was never really my bit.” He began to explain, imagining there was a part of Rutherford that was hoping he’d leave a wide enough birth afterwards in order to make a clown joke at his expense, so he immediately continued before she could. “But... sarcastic, and even mildly cruel pranks. That’s my bag. And well, let’s just say I might look up our friend’s personal quarters. And that I might know a bit of programming that would allow me to access his replicator. And that I can envision an innocent enough frozen yogurt greeting him at some point in the near future. Either he’d understand its purpose as a cheeky apology, or...” Sometimes the best practical jokes were the simplest ones, that were built on the foundations laid by older ones.

Fisher let himself laugh a little deviously as he imagined the various potential reactions of the Yridian crewman.

Playfully, he’d tried to pass the bill off on Rutherford, laying the blame for his reaction at her feet. But she hadn’t been about to accept it without a fight, and that challenge in her voice brought out a similar raise in his high-spirited retort.

“Yeah! Really!” he pressed, unable to contain a little laughter as they stared at one another, having failed to maintain any kind of proper poker face before her. She was right though, he admitted to himself in acknowledgment. No way anyone would buy someone running away from her; they’d in fact be lining up for a chance just to get a look of her pretty face and enjoy her pleasant demeanor. “Shit...” he exclaimed aloud in defeat, shaking his head as he leaned back again. “...there’s no way anyone would believe my side of that story.” He admitted plainly, knowing his reputation and his position were major factors that would contribute to that reality.

Taking a deep breath, he let the silence linger again, noticing that as the hour had grown increasingly late, the lounge was indeed starting to slowly empty. Groups had mutually dispersed for their quarters, to bed down before the start of another day. Couples that had been sharing a special moment began leaving hand in hand, perhaps to continue their evening in private. It was almost enough to make him forget about everything, and he imagined for a second that he was back on an exploratory vessel; something he’d not experienced in almost fifteen years. There was a peace and calmness to the present moment, and he desperately desired to revel in it for as long as he possibly could, knowing there were no guarantees of another one like it happening tomorrow, or ever for that matter.

Her final question then persisted in the air for a moment, as Fisher considered how to answer. He could play up more humor, and stall in order to protect himself, and potentially her in the process. He could lie, but that was a ridiculous notion, given how loaded the question was. He could also be honest, and just admit what she probably already figured.

“Very cute.” He plainly admitted, his eyes appraising her, and betraying the true admiration hidden behind them.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #13 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
[Show/Hide]


Samantha could understand that there were things about himself that Andrew didn’t feel comfortable to make readily available. Hell, potentially things his superiors didn’t even feel comfortable putting in a personnel file! It was almost a given for any intelligence officer’s service record to read a little bit like a sample text for exemplary Starfleet duty. With just the right amount of spice, so it wouldn’t seem too perfect, and then some generic activities, during redacted periods of service. But she was okay with that. It was already not entirely fair that they could all know so much about one another just because Starfleet enjoyed keeping records of everything. As a matter of fact, she almost felt sorry for having read certain things about subordinate officers while catching up, just because someone had decided to put them into a file. And even though they barely knew one another at this point – which was exactly the point - she would’ve much rather learned what was hidden behind the lines of black marker from the man himself.

At this moment in time, it seemed like maudlin was nothing but a faraway thought anymore. A mirage of a sentiment that had once been on the forefront of his mind, if only for comedic value. Which was a nice replacement they now indulged in, that sense of humor. Acknowledging his denial with a barely visible cock of the brow, Samantha tipped her head slightly, figuring he probably had considered the clown-career at least once in his life, at some point. If not, then his guidance counselor hadn’t done their job well in matching kid to occupation. Her white teeth flashed, as he told her that sarcastic and cruel pranks were more his thing. While they weren’t hers, she could draw a great deal of enjoyment from watching them play out. Of course one could consider a lot of what clowns did for a living, including pushing a pie into someone’s face, as a sarcastic and cruel prank.

Then, another laughter broke from her smile. “What is it with you and frozen yoghurt?!” Because everything seemed to culminate into that particular dairy gratification. “OR … as a creepy stalker attack by the Chief Intelligence Officer.” the diplomat finished his line humorously. She didn’t quite get how that would make the Yridian feel any more at ease towards Andrew. If anything, it would send the poor alien over the edge. But she had to admit, she enjoyed this almost infantile banter between them. Maybe ‘innocent’ was a nicer word for the juvenile simplicity of it. The way he pressed onto her quotation of his earlier statement enthusiastically. Obviously not even able to escape the astonishment over his own childishness as he laughed. Giving Drew a superior look, the blonde just shrugged as he came to the obvious conclusion. Whether he was just saying that to validate her own argument, and in a backwards way said she was attractive, or whether he actually realised it was an unlikely story, was excitingly ambiguous.

Another moment of silence, as Andrew considered his reply, lingered in the air between them. Samantha reveling in every minute of his internal struggle to come up with a simply yes or no answer. Maybe it was becoming harder to cook up a believable lie. She would’ve certainly appreciated that. Or maybe another joke was trying to develop inside his mind. It must’ve certainly been a rather interesting place in there. So much she could actually tell, just from the preview flickering through his kind, green eyes. Ultimately the corners of her plump lips crept further up into her pronounced cheeks, as he spoke. Sure, they were talking about her chicken noises, but it was a validation that felt like it was going beyond that. Stupid human faculty of imagination. “I thought you making up an excuse for me was pretty great too.” No, she didn’t say cute, a guy didn’t want to be cute, even if that would’ve been her true judgment.

And just as another moment of silence ensued, the diplomat realized she best pull them from these potentially deep waters again. They’d slowly started to dip their feet deeper and deeper, coyly pulling back every now and then to the safety and comfort of humor. It was an exhilarating back and forth that teased the prospect of more. “So, you have a thing for chickens?” she then broke the quiet, a mocking, deadpan tone to her voice. The entire bar having fallen into an almost ethereal calm at this point. Maybe more laughter could break that spell.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #14 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Though it had turned ever so pleasant, their conversation hadn’t started off like this, instead having early resembled something like that of an old-Earth roller coaster; complete with high hills, low peaks, and the enjoyable rush of moving from one to the other. There simply hadn’t been any way he could’ve predicted his evening going the way it had, but he was starting to imagine that evenings spent with someone like the woman before him had often went this way. He had felt that she had a subtle way about her that could seemingly direct things down whatever path she had so wanted to explore, while giving the others around her the respectful feeling of being in control. Sure, Fisher had chosen to embrace the lighter aspects of their conversation, but that had been a choice made out of a personal need to avoid the deep hurt he felt when exploring subjects that adversely affected him. She could have insisted, and applied pressure on those subjects, and in fact maybe a part of her wished she had, but instead she’d carefully and respectfully guided him somewhere else.

Coming to that realization, Fisher could see how she made for an absolutely stellar Diplomat. For in such a short frame of time, she’d managed to quell the storm of depressing emotions dominating his mind. With polite banter, some laughter, and a playful sense of teasing she’d disarmed the atom bomb that was his pending psychological breakdown. At least, for the time being. Fisher understood that well enough, and there were two things that immediately came to mind as a result; one was that he wanted her to be a part of his life, somehow, someway, so that he might continue to find comfort with her, maybe even permanently disarming that pending explosion in the process. The second thing was a sense of guilt for having already tried to latch himself onto her out of that personal desire. It was a selfish thing to rely on someone, without offering anything but burden in return.

So, he wondered, what was he to her?

She’d enjoyed his witty humor and laughed at his jokes, but beyond that, was there anything he offered in exchange? Was there something that he could offer, beyond that humor? The answers that immediately came to mind were disheartening, as he greatly questioned his value as someone, whom she could possibly share a deeper interest in.

“Making up excuses can sometimes be a big part of the game I play.” He explained in response to her appreciation, trying to sound as genuinely at-ease as he had been a moment earlier, but there had clearly been a shift in his tone of voice, as he’d begun to have doubts. The truth of his explanation made enough obvious sense that she might have figured out his meaning without him having to go into additional detail.

As another silent moment persisted between them, Fisher’s eyes began to trail away from her as he could feel himself walling up again. For long periods of his life, it had been a deeply troubling and ultimately overriding sentiment, that it was simply too dangerous for him to grow attached to anyone else, and even more so for anyone else to grow attached to him. That sentiment was ever-present in the back of his mind now, as his current blonde companion had reminded him so much of someone from his past that he’d tried so desperately to forget. Someone that he had once clung to for support, and who had tried to cling back, but in the end had found herself left wanting. And as if someone had taken a literal icepick to his brainstem, he felt a sudden stab of anguish in the back of his consciousness as repressed memories struggled to emerge.

His green eyes blinked in rapid succession for a short period as he ran a hand up to press against the back of his neck.

Sensing that she might have noticed the way his mannerisms were suddenly shifting, he checked his reaction, and tried to play it off as though he was tired and needed to stretch. Subconsciously however, he screamed into the abyss that was his memory, raging against the guilt that was starting to well up, and were it not for her posing another semi-serious yet also playful question, he might have needed to dismiss himself right then and there. But like a spillway dam, the sound of her voice had stemmed the tide of that rising pool of regretful memories, sending it back down into the depths where he hoped it would stay for a while longer.

Racing back to him, a rebounding sense of defiant confidence was restored as he fought against his self-loathing. He managed to convince himself in the moment that he wasn’t a bad guy; that he’d made mistakes, but then again so did everyone. The pain and guilt he’d carried for years, due to those mistakes had more than been penance enough for them, and it was okay to move on.

He convinced himself that it was okay to be interested in Samantha Rutherford.

“Well... I mean they do taste great when cooked the right way.” He narrowed his eyes so as to pretend that he was really thinking it over in his head, playing up the introspective look by pressing his index finger against the side of his left temple. “But then again, turkeys taste great too. So do ducks. And quails. Geese too.” He carried on for a minute, grinning to her until he shook his head to dismiss the silliness of it. She might have taken him back to a place of levity with the oddly-put question, but he was ready to bring it right back to a more serious, if still slightly goofy way of answering truthfully. With a sly little grin, he looked out over the nearly emptied Below Decks lounge, then crossed his arms as he leant forward against the table between them.

“But if every chicken had your good looks, your intriguing personality, and most of all your charm. Yeah, I think I could admit to having a thing for chickens.”

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #15 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Flag Bridge -> Below Decks Lounge | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
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Admittedly, letting people come to her with their revelations, to relinquish their admittance and information on their own devices, wasn’t exactly a modus operandi the diplomat usually employed. But she WAS a different person at work, even though a lot of it had started to replace the absence of a private life. She didn’t have the patience on duty, felt like she didn’t have to. And in the end it always came down to a quote from her valedictorian speech of the class of ’71: “[It’s] about knowing when you are the beggar and when you are the chooser.” And in this situation now, with Andrew, she felt like she should be the beggar. So, waiting for him to reveal on his terms what was glazing those seaweed orbs over with everything that held him back, was a courtesy she’d gladly extend. There was too much resemblance playing on her mind for how a similar encounter had developed in her past. A man with daemons and chains close to those she witnessed now. And it more so reciprocated a sense of deep understanding, one that didn’t need reassurance or verbalization.

Another sentiment that was sadly also true in private social interactions, as much as the blonde wanted to make a case of her not being a diplomat all the time, was that it didn’t always seem as if both sides got the same amount of benefit out of a situation. Because it was impossible to ascertain how much something meant to someone, when it held only little value to you. So, you might be under the impression that you’re getting so much, yet giving so little in return, but you don’t fully understand how much you’re actually offering, in subjective terms, until you’re sitting in that other seat. His reality wasn’t hers, and vice versa, and Andrew Fisher would never be able to see himself the way she saw him. That was just a fact of relativity. And even though her thankfulness to his defense had been a sly ploy to touch on a more serious subject, in an ambiguous sense that left him every way out, Andrew had chosen to give a more loaded, truthful reply. So the scheme had worked, and she felt already bad for using her weapons of diplomacy against him.

But Sam didn’t press on it. Which was a choice too. That little reply alone had said more about himself than he had their entire conversation. So, he was having troubles figuring out what to be honest about and who to trust. Where only had she seen that before. And even though the basic sentiment was kind of sad, the memento associated with it made her smile. But it was a fleeting sensation, that probably fell victim to the silence that built up once more, and the slight tension that came with it. It was then that she realised the faint wincing and the forced notion of pressing a hand to the back of his neck, which was always an indication for tension, subconscious or otherwise. Pressing her lips together, the blonde had to admit defeat, in the sense that she wouldn’t be able to make any significant changes, within the timeframe of this one evening. But she made a personal commitment to herself, to keep an eye on the handsome officer, and check in on him from time to time as the mission continued. It wouldn’t only serve to keep him sane, but to provide a diversion for her as well. That and that they probably had to see one another on a regular basis anyways, considering how closely intertwined their departments were. Which was yet another reason why it was in her best interest to keep him from cracking or devolving into a robot.

Though professionalisms weren’t on the forefront of her mind, as she started to notice a few little grey hairs, fighting for dominance in his beard. Which probably weren’t as much a telltale sign of his progressing years, but rather the stress and pressure he had filled them with. From a superficial point of view they added character, but from a more holistic angle they were just another cause for concern. Though, the woman didn’t want Andrew to know she was concerned. It would likely only fuel a downward spiral of self-loathing and guilt. Ending up on a lighter note once more ,Samantha grew more and more aware of the fact that they had to eventually ice away from this unspoken attraction, that kept them wanting to dig deeper and to hide the darker aspects of their personalities at the same time. When she had come over to him, she hadn’t intended for them to leave on a heavier note than they’d met, after all.

Smiling warmly at his chicken tangent, understanding … and getting slightly hungry for more than tube grubs, the blonde watched him lean forward and onto the table curiously. His baritone voice carried barely audible across the silence of the room and just above the omnipotent humming of the ship. Catching the inside of her lips slightly between her teeth, as she did her breath, she let her blue gaze fall to his hands. The whiskey glass empty, her own but a mere sip of room temperature Bourbon. Time was nothing but a theoretical concept at this point, she didn’t even know how late it was. Finally taking the leap and detaching herself from the comfortable backrest, Samantha placed her glass carefully on the table so it barely made a sound, before crossing her arms too and leaning forward onto the table all the same. The golden necklace sliding off her skin and dangling in the air, pendant reflecting slight glimmers onto Fisher’s handsome face. A mere foot separating them now, she could hear the air leaving his lungs just as well as discerning every little spec of color deviation in his sage orbs.

“Glad to hear it.” she replied equally quietly, ultimately having to divert her lingering gaze from the man to a sparkling drop of precipitation from Andrew’s drink on the tabletop between them. Unwrapping one hand from her arms she picked it up with the force of surface tension to her index fingertip, releasing it onto the second knuckle of Drew’s thumb to let it roll down his skin and over the back of his hand following the artificial gravity back to the table. Looking back, a smile followed an audible exhale that made her nostrils flare slightly. “I think I should call it a night.” Her logic dictated quietly, though her human nature wanted anything but, it finally came to an agreement with the ¼th minority genes. Uncrossing her arms fully, the diplomat pushed both her hands flat on the table to get up with a subtle moan. It had just been too comfortable, in too many ways to count, so it ached hard in her joints and muscles as it came to pass.

Brushing a few blonde strands back, that had by now escaped the confines of her ponytail, Samantha nodded down at Andrew with a reassuring smile, resisting the urge for any further physical contact with his thick hair, so easily in range. Turning to leave she got a mere 3 steps, before turning around, crossing her arms behind her back coyly. “Though, if you ever do feel like pursuing maudlin again, give me a call … it’s more fun together.” she referenced the first sentence that he’d said to her that night, thus inadvertently bringing the entire evening full circle in a meaningful way. She didn’t require an answer, it wasn’t that kind of offer. It would remain open and she’d enforce it no matter what he thought about it. So she turned again without waiting for a reply. Skipping down the two steps of the podium by the windows, the blonde ponytail bobbed playfully, before ultimately turning into the same swaying rhythm her hips did, as Sam walked over to the door and into the hallway beyond. What Andrew couldn’t see: The wide smile on her face as she left, the smile that made many officers on the way to her quarters overestimate their allure. Until it much later fell victim to the ultimate, relaxing comfort of sleep.

Re: Day 32 [2130 hrs.] - A simple drink among new colleagues.

Reply #16 –
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Below Decks | Deck 28 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Noticing the smile that casually began to reach from one corner of her seductive lips across to the opposite, Fisher felt at ease as he could literally see the results of his gambit at having played it honest in her reaction. His decision to move in an affirmative direction, rather than deflecting and backing away from an admittance of the attraction he was feeling, had indeed been the right one. There was a proverbial weight that seemingly lifted from his shoulders, alleviating much of the apprehension and doubt that had played through his consciousness like a record on repeat. Whatever reservations or distressing thoughts he’d had about again being open an honest with someone, they had now faded away entirely into the recesses, and though he was unsure of how long said feeling would last, he was determined to revel in and enjoy it for as long as he possibly could. His new-found sense of internal catharsis would grant him some urgently necessary peace of mind over the coming few days.

The two newest Chief Officers of the Theurgy shared a silent moment of reflection, their viridian and cerulean eyes even appearing to mirror one another as they struggled to control an unspoken desire that they were both clearly sharing. Time had slowed to a crawl for Fisher as he considered for the faintest of moments to surrender to that desire, only the smallest modicum of self-control keeping him at bay. It was too soon for that, he reasoned. Even if it was something that they both wanted, it simply wasn’t the right time yet. Even if they had already come to find a sense of familiarity with each other, and a deeper connection that they were discovering within themselves, they were still in new territory together, and it had demanded caution and a delicate approach, otherwise they risked destroying what could become something very special before it even began.

That flirtatious anxiety eased marginally as she moved, the perceived passage of time suddenly skipping back to its true rate, his gaze following the slow deliberate actions of her delicate index finger.

It had only been a single droplet of cool water against the back of his hand, but the metaphor for which it represented wasn’t lost on him.

An instant later as she excused herself for the night, rising from her chair to leave him, he nodded softly in reticent acceptance. Of course he could have spent another handful of hours with his new companion, sharing longing glances and bouts of laughter as they tried to weave around the many potholes that lined the streets of their past, every so often hitting one and subsequently having to deal with how it affected them. But if they didn’t stop now, they might never have, and as alluring as the prospect was, it simply wasn’t within the scope of reality. “Yeah, that’s probably a good call.” His words betrayed the simple obvious truth of the late hour in which they now found themselves, they both had responsibilities to attend to in the coming days, and they couldn’t afford to be anything less than one-hundred percent.

“I think I’ll actually sleep tonight.” The revelatory admission alone spoke to the personal victory that had been the evening and was in no small part thanks to the efforts of the lovely woman who suddenly stopped in the midst of her escape.

With a broad smile, he remembered how their evening had begun, and too felt a momentary sense of completion as it was ending. No stones that needed to be unturned had been left so, and no words that demanded saying were left unsaid. Whatever was meant to be accomplished between them that evening, had been in end some. All that remained now was to make it final, and turn the page on the day, and embrace what would be the next chapter of this new thing between them. There was an absolute certainty in his thoughts as he watched the charmingly gorgeous Samantha Rutherford make her way toward the exit, that he would seek her out again to build upon the foundations that had been laid this night. And as she left his sight, having turned down the corridor, he felt no bitterness to the sweet taste that lingered in his mind. Only fondness and anticipation for what the future might bring.

“It’s a deal.” He said well after she’d gone.

-FIN
 
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