Dealing With It

Posted on Thu Feb 17th, 2022 @ 3:56pm by Evahnae Kohl & Oliver Lucas
Edited on on Thu Feb 17th, 2022 @ 3:57pm

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: Observation Bar and Lounge
Timeline: Before stuff went down (Dec challenge post)
2412 words - 4.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Although not a heavy drinker, Oliver was aware that Eva had semi-extended an invitation after the whole strangeness in the odd Victorian-era simulation. Ever polite (if a bit nervous), he had convinced himself to accept the general invite despite the fact that it was late afternoon and hardly anyone was still taking their downtime on Rosie (the fact that a ship full of holo-simulations was available probably a major factor).

Indeed, there was only one person left in the bar: the landlady herself. It took him a moment to draw up some courage to approach and take a seat at one of the stools set against the bar itself.

"Hello..." he said softly, still a little awkward in spite of himself.

For once, he had caught the bar manager in the midst of a series of mundane yet necessary tasks and, as a result, Eva's demeanor was decidedly calmer than when she'd waltzed into sickbay and dragged him into a simulation she'd only been able to describe as 'fun in frilly dresses'. She glanced up from her PADD, having pulled up her own stool behind the bar where she sat nursing a black coffee, chin in hand. She didn't move, content to appear overly informal, but she did smile with enough warmth that it actually seemed like she was pleased to see him.

"Hey, you. Finally found us, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did." He awkwardly tapped on the bar with his fingers, not really accustomed to making light conversation, especially with someone who had been quite so bombastic on their first encounter. "It's, um...a nice place you've got here. Did you do all this yourself?" he asked, pointing to the bar.

"I mean, I dragged a lot of people into it." Big surprise. "And I don't really think it's even close to being finished." And probably never would be, since reinventing spaces once she got tired of seeing the same thing every day was a common habit. "But hopefully we can inject some life into down-time around here. Now, what can I get you?" Turning, Eva presented the fully-stocked shelves behind her with a flourish. "Thanks to salvage rights, I can do almost anything."

"Well, I don't...I mean, I don't really drink much. Or at least, I don't know what constitutes a 'good' drink." He leaned across the bar, almost conspiratorially. "I hear all these people talking about brands and types, but I haven't got a clue. I guess you could say I missed a bunch of those sorts of experiences growing up..." he pulled back some of the hair behind his right ear, showing the strip of exposed Borg implants that were usually out of sight. "So I might need help from an expert."

She had noticed or caught glimpse of enough to suspect, because she was nosy, that something seemed a little off about him, but even Eva had found an interrogation difficult to weave into conversations over high tea. His had to be a story and a half, which was exactly the reason she had fled Earth and plunged back into space travel, even if the bar manager would have vehemently denied running in either direction; to or from. She studied his implants intently but curbed her inquisitiveness to deal with the first and most pressing issue. "Well, you're certainly not spoiled for choice."

Turning to face the shelves, currently fully stocked and not even housing half of what they'd pulled from the Holoworld, Eva leaned her weight back on her hands and craned her head back to address him whilst still surveying their options. "Let's start with food. What do you normally lean towards; sweet or savory?"

"Uhh...savory?" he replied, a little taken aback by the question. He wasn't sure what food had to do with the overall question. Food and alcohol did kind of go together, in one sense. But how that directly impacted on the choice of beverage he was unclear on. "Does that help?"

It mattered, if only because there was a wealth of options that very much favoured the sweeter end of the spectrum. "Okay, so something dry maybe. Bitter?" Having turned her back, Eva was more or less speaking to herself. Rummaging helped, even if it was just crouching down to sort through the assortment of bottles beneath the bar. She'd never complain about having choice but things were kind of packed in.

In the end, she settled for a couple of stouts from the refrigerator. Poured into glasses, the opaque liquid had a beautiful tinge of amber when held to the light, even though it tended more towards a rich cocoa colour in the shade. It smelled, and likely tasted, vaguely of coffee. "Here, try this."

Oliver did the expected thing, which was to first examine the glass acutely for details. He leaned in close, blinking at the dark liquid, then sniffed at it cautiously. He wanted to ask some questions, but the expectancy in Eva's voice and expression told him the answers would come with a taste. He lifted it to his lips and took a larger-than-intended mouthful. He almost choked, then winced, then cringed a little.

"That's..." He coughed between words. "Strong. Wow...people enjoy this?" he croaked.

"Sometimes." It was a unreassuringly dubious response. "Stout is more of an experience than a drink." Taking a sip of her own, Eva grinned. "It'll grow on you though, if you don't drown yourself in it."

"Grow on me?" he replied. "I think something's more likely to grow in me, drinking something like that. What's it called?"

"This is a coffee stout, which is a fairly niche variant but our conveniently crashed ship was clearly catering for a wide range of tastes. It's a little piquant," Eva granted him, grinning. Turning, she took several steps back to the smaller refrigeration unit that kept her from having to disappear into the 'vault' over and over, and drew out a bottle of much lighter ale. "Here, try this but don't tell Ford."

Oliver, feeling a little more cautious after their first attempt, gazed intently at the glass as she poured it. Certainly it looked paler and less viscous. And the smell wasn't quite as strong. "You're really selling this one to me, saying that," he murmured.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, he doesn't have the monopoly on the supply, but he does have pretty reasonable taste."

"I'll take your word for it." Oliver took a deep breath and raised the glass to his lips, careful this time to only sip. The liquid slid over his tongue, momentarily causing him to cringe before he swallowed. "Hmm..." he pondered, eying the drink again. "That's not bad. At least compared to the coffee. What is it?"

"Kesatian Ale. And it's the pale variant, he's going to arm wrestle you for it if he finds out."

Reclaiming her stool, Eva picked up the PADD she'd been working on and leaned back to toss it on the bench. Having created space, the bar manager then leaned sideways, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled a deck of cards out from the piles she had stashed. Brand new, casino-grade. Unwrapping the package, she removed the cards and started to shuffle.

"So, usual questions first." She grinned; at some point, the conversation always moved in this direction and Eva just preferred to take control of it from the onset. "Why Rosie? Out of all the places in all of the galaxy, what brings you to this tin can?"

Watching the cards with the curiosity to ask but not the opportunity, Oliver sipped the drink again. "I joined on when they docked at Freecloud. At the time they were looking for anyone with medical experience and me...well, Freecloud isn't the safest place for XBs. Looking over your shoulder every day is no way to live." He motioned to the deck of cards, questioningly. "Are we playing a game?"

"Freecloud seems to have a lot to answer for," was the first cryptic response, though spoken in the same light, conversational tone that didn't lend much by way of ominous undertone. Eva curled the cards upwards, letting them stack one after the other in quick succession from the curve of her palms, and continued. "You know how to play poker?"

"I know the rules," he nodded quickly, settling himself in his stool. "I'm very out of practice though. Go easy on me?" he offered an innocent smile. He recalled the basics of the game, for sure, though his exposure was limited and he wasn't sure how much of a poke face he would be able to maintain.

"We'll go no-stakes, other than bragging rights."

Eva dealt the cards as if it hadn't been years since this had been a professional skill. From beneath the bar, a freshly-wrapped stack of betting chips was halved by a thumbnail through the plastic and then shared out before the brunette picked up her hand.

The bartender could never really describe how she arrived at decisions regarding how to interact with her patrons. Things were different here than back home, of course. She had regulars back in New Orleans but a lot of her clientele were drawn from a wider pool of unfamiliar faces; tourists and other visitors. Rosie was one crew and so taking the time to meet each of them, ensure this was a space they wanted to come back to, was easier in a way but also required more deliberation. Some, she could just hold a conversation with. Others...

A buffer was always good.

"So you have medical training, yeah?" Eva rearranged her hand and then stared at it a moment before returning three cards, face-down.

"Training's...a strong word." He eyed the cards in his hand, then watched her face pretending he was trying to read through her expression for a tell. In truth he wasn't really sure what to look for. "I picked up quite a lot from the reclamation projects I was a part of. Extracting implants and counselling people out of that...trauma..." he used the word carefully. Some people had an unusual reaction to XBs. In many cases they were sympathetic. Some could be angry. He'd even met one or two 'Borg deniers' that thought the whole thing was some sort of elaborate conspiracy. They were the outliers, though, and he doubted Eva was one of them. "Two, please."

Eva's opinion on Borg, both current and previous membership, was ambiguous and unhelpful in that she hadn't really settled on a opinion that could be lavishly applied to all situations and left to dry like that. It was generally indicative of her approach to most things that she preferred to take life as it came, that pre-existing prejudice wasn't her cup of tea and that, having been raised by a Betazoid and grown up spending a lot of time on Betazed despite the eventual fractures in that aspect of her identity, Eva ultimately saw every individual as their own contained package. Unique and relevant and worthwhile. It accounted somewhat for her tendency to be constantly reaching out, probing and testing the waters, flinging herself into other people's trajectories because you really couldn't get to know a person's individual worth unless you experienced it for yourself.

She dealt him two, and herself three. Flipping up her cards briefly, Eva threw some chips into the middle.

"Self-training then. It counts." She grinned at him. "Though I guess piecing people back together is a little different to creatively reinterpreting cocktail recipes." Propping her chin up against her hand, the brunette waited for him to finish his move with a disconcerting tendency to seek direct eye contact. "Any thoughts about official training then?"

"I guess I never expected there to be similarities between medical training and cocktail mixing," he mused, trying not to give much away with his face - but probably failing spectacularly - as he dropped a token amount of chips in front of her. "Honestly that would probably make the option more appealing. Official training...one day...might be worthwhile. For now though I'm just making my way."

"Could always try onboard training." Eva nudged the chips he'd added to a more central position before considering her own cards, poking her bottom lip out and then adding several more chips from her own pile. Then, looking up, she smiled as if pleased with herself and watched him without losing track of her train of thought. "Hiram's probably good at something worth learning." To anyone else, that might have sounded utterly baffling, but Oliver had just witnessed her force the doctor to wear a bonnet for an entire holo-sequence.

"He's actually been very willing and helpful already," he admitted, fanning his cards between his fingers. "He has a lot of knowledge, and is a good teacher. He would have done well at any sort of teaching institution from what I've seen." He smirked a little as he recalled their last encounter. "I hope you're not going to be dragging me into your escapades like you seem to have done with him?"

"Oh, you hope in vain, my friend." The bet was raised again with Eva barely even looking at her chips, far too preoccupied with waggling her eyebrows at her latest victim. "I drag anyone who stands still long enough so you'd better start running now."

"Huh." Oliver eyed his cards pensively, doing his best to look like he knew what he was doing. He shoved another few chips in. "You don't see me running just yet though. I call."

"That's the spirit. Life's worth shaking up once in a while."

Eva tossed her cards into the middle with a grin. "And I fold." It was nothing like what her personality suggested was typical, especially not in a game where there were no actual stakes. The kind of woman who would bluster into a calm Sickbay and demand dresses and bonnets very clearly was not front-runner for any kind of backing down when it came to challenges. But she folded nevertheless, shoving her cards back into the deck and pushing the pile his way. "Your deal."

Oliver finally grinned, pulling the cards together in his hands as he recognised his victory. "You know, I think I might have to come here more often..."