I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Posted on Sun Dec 26th, 2021 @ 8:53am by Angel Ramirez & Evahnae Kohl

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: Mary Rose/Bar
Timeline: MD 4
3838 words - 7.7 OF Standard Post Measure

Locating the portable speakers had been a godsend.

This was perhaps not a sentiment that would have been shared by anyone within earshot had a certain bartender not had the foresight to close the bar for 'lunch' before she started to experiment with the volume levels of her shiny new toys. Now that the mysteries of the Holoworld were slowly starting to unravel, it seemed generally more acceptable to focus on the fruits of various salvage efforts and, though it had taken some perseverance, the time it had taken to finally locate equipment that would compliment Eva's plans for the small corner stage had proven a worthy investment. There were several more crates still with security, Leiddem had been vague about how long it would take them to clear routine compliance checks, but the sound system was up and functional and the quality of its transmission, particularly the rich and soul-throbbing bass, was literal music to the performer's ears.

With the walls practically vibrating, Eva stood facing the long line of bottles that stretched the full length of the bar and scrutinised the way she had them grouped, occasionally moving forward to switch placement between several vintages. The supplies from the crashed ship had been plentiful so far, but storage back on board required planning. To the side, a half-empty trolley and several other crates revealed the extent of the task.

Angel whistled a jaunty little tune as he made his security rounds. He pushed along a trolley cart filled with boxes as he entered the bar. “Special delivery for a special lady!” the handsome Cuban called over the music, picking up the PADD on the top of the stack he had pushed into the lounge.

In almost all instances, it was easy to forget Eva had any telepathic inheritance. She certainly didn't make reference to it, seemed almost to go out of her way to avoid acknowledging it, in fact, and there was enough about her occasionally haphazard nature to make it unlikely that anyone would randomly guess at a natural affinity. It was only in these odd moments, where she really ought not to have been able to hear anyone enter the lounge until they were practically on top of her that her unorthodox level of awareness seemed a little on the unnatural side. Her head turned just as Angel spoke and, after a brief pause to barely comprehend his message over the din, the brunette's expression melted into warm excitement. She made a brief adjustment to the volume and set the bottle in her hands down to approach him.

"You," she grinned at him whilst pointing an index finger, "just became my new favourite person."

Angel chuckled. “Well, I never complain when an attractive woman says that about me,” he told her. He picked up the bottle she had set down and looked at the label. “That is some good rum,” he noted.

The compliment forced a twitch to the corner of her mouth, but for a moment at least, Eva only had eyes for the contents of his trolley. "Our shipwreck was carrying some impressive stock," she murmured, distracted by an attempt to spy her equipment amongst his haul. When gawping at things didn't produce results, Eva craned her head to consider him, and the bottle he held. "I can pour you some..." Her expression turned devious. "...if you have my microphones and amplifiers."

“Bottom of the stack,” Angel said. “Let me unload.” He lifted off the case of rum and put it on the bar, then worked his way down.

"Just put them up on the stage, I'll get to work on the set-up once the debt is settled." Despite the temptation to delve into the cases right away, Eva knew she'd be rotten company once she got engrossed in the project and thus pushed aside the allure to clamber up onto the base of one of the stools and lean over the bar, hanging upside down as she searched for a couple of glasses.

Angel took a moment to admire the bartender’s posterior as she pulled her little stunt to retrieve glasses, then forced himself to unload the equipment onto the stage. “You need any help with the set up?” he offered.

"That depends how many glasses it'll take to to give proper thanks."

Ever since she'd arrived, Eva had felt a compulsion to live on both sides of the bar. For the longest time, there had been a palpable divide between herself and the rest of everything, the world that approached from afar but stopped within a few feet. The barrier created by a bar's physical necessity served a valuable purpose, but it was also a blindfold. After a while, it got so people didn't even remember you had legs, let alone a story or two of your own. It was perhaps this that prompted her to step up on a stool and take a seat actually sitting on the bar, the glasses placed beside her so that she could twist a little to pour. She'd always been the kid that preferred to sit on the desk than behind it, after all.

"If you have an ear for it, I wouldn't say no to a second opinion about the levels once I've synced the microphones." Picking up one of the glasses, Eva stretched out an arm to offer it to him.

“I can do that,” Angel acknowledged. He sipped the rum to appreciate it, and then smiled, popping up to sit on the bar beside her. “Woman like you deserves something a little more than straight rum, though, as fine as it is.” He reached behind the bar for a couple items and proceeded to do a damn good job mixing her up a mojito, muddling the mint and everything.

There was playfulness to Eva's narrowed eyes, which was lucky given that he was crossing the invisible line and stepping into sanctified 'bar staff only' territory. One thing that was already becoming evident on this particular ship, however, was that she'd have her work cut out defining boundaries that designated the bar and adjoining lounge area as her jurisdiction. It had been a communal space for too long and, at least until it created issues, Eva kind of enjoyed that. Accepting the drink, she held it up to the light to peer at it with a critical eye and then took an evaluative sip.

"You're hired."

Grinning, Eva took a more substantial gulp and then set the glass against her knee. "Though, I'll have you know, rum and I are on speaking terms most days." Her capacity for hard liquor was not a topic Eva really wanted to get into, but there was an underestimation to address. The arch of her eyebrow, though entirely for pantomime, dared him to challenge her.

“That so?” Angel asked, mixing himself a mojito as well. “I suppose there isn’t much else to do on this old tub,” he admitted. “No holodeck and all, and none of the restrictions on alcohol on a Starfleet ship.” He toasted her with his glass and sipped, then sighed. “Ah, that brings me home,” he murmured.

It was, Eva had to concede, a more refreshing drink for the time of day. Over her next sip, she studied him thoughtfully, eyes tracing over his facial features as she considered his appreciation and the familial link he'd intimated. "Let's see. Mojito, right?" It's what it was so Eva very much hoped it was what he'd intended. Unabashed, she stared at him a moment longer, eyes gently narrowed in the process of settling on a reasonably educated guess. "Cuban?"

“Si,” Angel said with a smile. “Havana and Miami. When my grandfather retired from Starfleet, he opened a beachside resort. Just a small one. Mostly catered to Earthers who couldn’t afford to head to Risa or the more popular galactic spots, or just needed a sort of…staycation for a week or weekend. He started me working behind the bar when I was thirteen. My parents were Starfleet, too, so he raised me when they were off planet.”

Her earlier appreciation had been for his timely arrival and the delivery he'd brought with him. Now, Eva's smile and slow nod were directed at the inherent camaraderie of his explanation. "We went to Cuba when I was maybe nine?" For a brief moment, Eva's eyes grew distant as she fought her own timeline to make sense of the order of travel. "We stayed with friends, but I remember the tourists from places like that." There had been so many vacations, so many explorations, throughout her childhood that it was only natural some of them slipped off the radar. The brunette's smile deepened at the revitalisation of a previous buried set of memories. "The music blew me away. I spent the whole trip trying to learn how to dance to it." Making eye contact again, Eva grinned. "Much to my fathers' dismay."

“I’m surprised,” Angel said with a smile. “Earth isn’t exactly a tourist planet. Most prefer to go elsewhere. But yes, the music is amazing,” he agreed. “It’s where I learned. And there is nothing like a good salsa,” he agreed, putting his arms in position and making a few movements, though sitting on the bar wasn’t conducive to using his hips.

A brief hesitation, a pause, interrupted the flow of conversation as Eva fought against the impulse to coax him into a proper display. Not only was the style of dance mesmerising at the best of times, but there was the small matter of specific curiosity. It couldn't hurt to know what he could do with those hips, after all. Men who could dance were...

...distracting.

"Unless you live there." Eva grinned, wrenching her focus back to the topic. In terms of her exterior, the natural brunette accepted that her Betazoid heritage tended to have a slight edge, particularly when her Human ancestry veered mostly Latina. "First ten years of my life and then quite a few subsequent. The first rule of travel is to make sure you don't leave your own doorstep unexplored."

She studied his profile for a moment, her rapid-fire mind actually moving in some semblance of a coordinated fashion to piece together what he'd said. "So, you're a musician?"

“This and that,” Angel said. “Learned to play guitar – helps a teenage boy with the senoritas,” he said with a playful wink. “Joined Starfleet. Now I guess I’m just…wandering,” he mused.

"You know, I play the guitar. Had not considered using it for that purpose." Smothering her grin with another sip of her cocktail, Eva considered his response and allowed her eyes to search the expanse beyond the viewport as she tried his explanation on for size. "Wandering is a good way to put it." She turned back to look at him, dark green eyes catching his. "It's also not the worst way to live. As long as you're not adding 'aimlessly' to the end of it."

Angel chuckled. “Trying to figure out what to do next with my life, and still need to pay the bills. I figured I’d lean on what I know.” He gestured to the bar – and the ship – around them.

Leaning forward to consider his trolley, and the implicit responsibilities that came with wheeling it about the ship, playing delivery boy, Eva then sat back and twisted towards him slightly to consider the bar behind. "You know," she said after a moment, "I'm surprised Gregnol didn't offer you this position. I mean, you've clearly had the experience."

Angel shrugged. “They hadn’t really cleared this place out,” he said. “Was filled with a bunch of junk. We cleared it out on Freecloud. Part of the whole new direction thing.” He leaned on the bar, smiling and taking Eva in. Quite a lovely woman, and there were plenty of them on board, but most were claimed or would cut things off with very sharp knives if approached. “Besides, I don’t really think that’s my calling,” he admitted. “I thought Starfleet was, but that didn’t work out.”

As was so often a recurring theme in her personal life, Eva's preoccupation with her own question had her attention wandering between the tables, as if trying to imagine the space filled with junk. Whilst it gave the Cuban ample time to consider her without fear of losing digits, it did also ensure that the pensive woman was completely oblivious to his scrutiny. "Yeah, well, Starfleet isn't for everyone," she agreed quietly, frowning at nothing obvious before her expression cleared and she turned back to regard him. "Did you leave or did they ask you to leave?"

“I left,” Angel said. “I had a…disagreement with a superior officer, and everyone involved decided it might be for the best if I didn’t re-up my commitment,” he said wryly.

Far from any judgement, the admission actually made Eva grin. "Right." There was a pause as she watched him, eyes dancing with merriment, and then she asked, "The superior officer was wrong though, right?" It was a tease but, by the same token, it carried an element of empathy. She preferred being her own boss.

“Wrong as a fish on a bicycle,” Angel said with a grin. “Part of why I avoided a court martial and dishonorable discharge.”

"And ended up here with us." Lifting her half-empty glass, Eva called toast with a dip of her head and then took a sip before adding, "I'm inclined to think we got the better deal."

Angel chuckled and lifted his glass to toast and drink as well. “It’s my pleasure,” he said with a grin.

"I mean, if you'd stayed with Starfleet, who'd teach me how to dance?" It was presumption layered with gall and sprinkled with cheek, but despite the pair of raised eyebrows punctuating her dare, Eva didn't seem to be joking. "You can dance, right?"

“I can,” Angel said with a smile. “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe,” he teased. “One of the things I did working at the resort during the summer when I was off of school was dance instructor. It was my job to keep the ladies happy.”

Her features frozen for a moment in a contemplative squint, Eva put zero effort into stopping her mind from wandering. He probably hadn't meant that quite the way her imagination was insisting on taking it, but he also had a glint in his eye that Eva recognised, one that left ample room for his intent to be exactly what it sounded like. She turned her narrow-eyed suspicion on him, lifted an index finger as if about to make a comment, and then appeared to think better of it. Instead, she smirked. "And how would one go about signing up for such lessons?" It was likely pouring oil on the fire but, in her defence, she actually did want to learn.

“Well, just have to ask,” Angel said with a smile, standing up and stepping a bit closer. “Well, and I got paid twenty credits a lesson,” he said with a chuckle.

"Oh, and a businessman to boot." Still perched on the bar, both feet resting on one of the stools, Eva leaned her weight forward on a bent arm and dangled what remained of her drink just in front of a knee. Eyes narrowed, she sized him up, inclined to applaud his gall, and then lifted her chin to pit her stubbornness against his. "First lesson's free," she proposed. "And you consider letting me drag you behind the bar when things get busy." Phrasing matters, Eva.

Angel smiled. “Deal,” he said. “What would you like to learn?”

"Oh, you're going to make me choose. I..." Eva screwed up her face in thought. "I may actually not know the difference between some of them."

Angel stood close now, his eyes meeting Eva’s as he smiled. “We’ll start out with an easy rumba or salsa and work you up to a sexy Argentine tango,” he told her.

"Now all we need is a dance space."

An eye cast around the room evaluated its potential.

"We could push back the tables..."

“On it,” Angel said, retreating from Eva’s space again. He started moving tables, going over in his head what music might be good. “How about some Marc Anthony?” he suggested.

Finishing her drink with a flourish, Eva scooted to the edge of the bar and dropped down. "You're the boss!" She had, as it turned out, no idea who he was talking about, but her music collection was rather obsessively large. Crossing to the equipment that had previously been blasting sonic holes in the hull, Eva tapped several buttons on the mixer and then called back. "Should be ready for voice commands."

With the space cleared, Angel said, “Computer, lights, fifty percent.” The lighting dimmed in the room, and Angel stepped back to Eva, holding out his hand. “Computer, play Valia la Pena by Marc Anthony,” he instructed, and a light, fun salsa beat started playing.

“Salsa is all about the hips,” Angel told Eva, taking a pose as if he had someone in his arms. He moved to the beat, his hips moving and swiveling sexily as he moved, explaining the steps to her as she watched.

And watched. As eager as she was to learn, Eva had to admit being in the audience wasn't half bad either. He made it look easy, which was part of the fluidity that had drawn her to the style all those years ago. An entire body connected through the flow of music. Forcing herself to drop her eyes to his feet, Eva masked a moment of deep calculation behind a slight smile and committed the pattern to memory.

She was good with patterns.

"Hips, I have. Plentiful." Eva was tiny, technically, but stumbled to stereotypes by seeing extra pounds in the mirror where none really existed. As if to prove her point, her hands settled at her waist to help keep her weight centred and she attempted to keep up with his footwork. Having danced for most of her life, the brunette at least understood how her body moved, even if this involved a gait that was quite unique.

“Okay, that’s good,” Angel said. He took her hands in his, keeping them a foot apart so she could still see his feet. “When you’re ready, when you’ve got it, look up and meet my eyes,” he told her. “You’re a natural.” He flashed a handsome smile.

"Twenty credits a lesson to say that," she teased, eyes still averted. The actual sequence she already had figured out; it was repetitive and short and had stuck in place without her trying very hard. It was the nuances, the particular placement of feet, the degree to which he swiveled before shifting weight to the other foot, that she was concentrating on. Still, she made the mistake of looking up, caught the devilment in that smile and then couldn't break gaze again. It was a matter of principle.

Angel met Eva’s eyes. “Bien,” he said. “The steps are simple, but the real…art of the dance is in the hips, how you and your partner move together.” He pulled Eva closer, now pressing her against him, the only thing between them being the thin clothing they wore. The look in his eyes shifted from amused to sultry, the definition of bedroom eyes as his movements with her seemed to become much more of…innuendo as the music filled them both and the room narrowed to the bare few inches between their faces.

Excuse me, may I have a moment of your ti..

Eva would be the first to admit that her relationship with her better judgement was sketchy at best. She had a long history of only listening to it retrospectively, and then as an endless broken record of self-recrimination. It was more responsible for the convoluted messes of her past than any other contributing factor, and only then because she'd trained herself to so stubbornly ignore it every time it tried to speak up that she invariably made choices just to spite herself. Natural caution might have sufficed. Now.

Now, he was very, very easy on the eyes.

A smile curved her lips.

She couldn't match him, not yet. He had anticipation she hadn't mastered and finesse that came with practice, but she knew her body and understood how it moved. Even slight stumbles only twisted her lips into further toyed amusement. Twenty credits a lesson. What lesson, exactly?

Angel kept his gaze locked with Eva’s. Their bodies moved in concert against each other, pressed tightly, heatedly, his hand on her back, guiding her. It had long been drilled into Angel Rodriguez that the job of the man on the dance floor was to display the woman to best effect, and he did just that, compensating for her every misstep, making it look nearly natural as he swept her across the floor, taking a turn, a spin. He avoided anything overly complicated, like leaps and catches that would require more time and partnership, but as the music ended, he did dip her nearly to the floor, extending her body in an exquisite arch to display her full beauty even as he gazed into her eyes with his own smoldering dark orbs, holding it just…for…a…second…longer…

This was usually the moment where Eva broke the ice with ridiculousness.

The moment passed.

And just for a moment, she wasn't a particle zipping around the universe, ricocheting off the nearest surface only to crash into another. She wasn't a bundle of defense mechanisms and deflection techniques, a quick wit with a faster tongue wielding a very well-rounded sense of the absurd like a blunt-force weapon. She wasn't half-this, half-that but not enough of either. She wasn't a mess. For a few minutes, she'd been part of a coordinated whole.

He had very dark eyes.

"Donde aprendiste a bailar asi?"

Her Spanish was rusty. Her pronunciation, however, betrayed experience. Cat out of the bag.

Angel smiled. “Mi abuela,” he said with a chuckle. “During a dance, the woman must be the only thing in your world, she told me," easing Eva back to her feet. “She is the reason you exist.” He eased back, returning to Eva her personal space, but not before he raised her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the back of it while meeting her eyes.

"She must be quite a woman."

Her heart rate would settle, eventually. All she had to do was breathe.

Eva smiled. "You have yourself a student."

FIN