Jingle & Mingle Part 4

Posted on Thu Dec 7th, 2017 @ 1:16pm by
Edited on on Thu Dec 7th, 2017 @ 1:49pm

Mission: Mission 5 - Liberation
Location: Deck 6 - Crew Bar
Timeline: MD -28 21:00
1424 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Paul was standing about a little awkward dressed in an obviously ferengi cut version of a federation uniform.

"Paul, it's a party!" declared Draia Theroh from pretty much the very moment she locked eyes on the ex-Borg Scientist, and her very best friend. "You're not supposed to--" she started to say, but she visibly stopped herself, as she strode towards Paul. Her body was wrapped in an emerald dress that could be considered couture in Cardassian circles. One of her shoulders and one of her hips were bare, and her other shoulder appeared to have something spiky on it. Looking him up and down, Draia sighed, and she said, "How do Ferengi like to party?"

He smiles, "Well between haggling over who is paying for the drinks and Tongo we, they conspire to backstab each other. But as a legally half Ferengi I'm allowed the dubious honor of picking how I spend my time as long as I dress appropriately." He bows his head, "You look ravishing Draia Theroh of species two zero zero zero."

"Why, thank you," Draia was quick to say. Her skin was naturally too ashen to blush, but her smile curled in a certain way to be suggestive of blushing. "Aren't you the dashing gentleman? I think the Cap'n is paying for the drinks, so that only leaves us with Tongo and backstabbing," Draia quipped. She pivoted her head dramatically, evaluating the crowd around them. "Who looks to have a nice meaty back?"

"Dashing? Well thank you, and he is and as the gentleman in me notices your hand is empty. And that is a travesty, either it needs my hand or a drink," He steps closer to her and holds out his arm, "And if I become to forward just tell me to dial it back a notch. My behavior is a curious mix of N's bravado and Paul's fondness of you." He does look about however, "At this time I don't know enough about the people here to fleece them of goods, or should I say provide a valuable service for a modest fee."

"Honey, there's no such thing as too forward in my lexicon. You might as well be speaking another language when you say something like that," Draia said to reassure him, and she immediately took Paul by the hand. "Well, if we're not going to be servicing the crew, then we might as well get a drink. Might amp up your bravado even more." Looking to Paul, she asked, "Escort me to the bar?"

He nods, "Of course. I don't know if that will enhance or dilute it to be honest. But new me is willing to test a possibly theory." He squeezes her hand, "I have a feeling that the most dangerous person in this room for me is you my dear. And a back that nice it would be a crime to mark it." He chuckles and escorts her to the drinks.

"Dangerous? Me?" Draia asked. Somehow her intonation was both incredulous and yet proud too. "What do you think I would do to you?" she asked.

He chuckles and once they are close enough to the drinks gets her one and one for himself, "Darling woman. Original Paul was a naive adult, with a recorded encounter with you on the beach. New me knows what dastardly fun things you can do. Having a partial computer in my head lets one have a vividly devious imagination." He sips, "So yes. You are dangerous especially to me. But through conflict we profit."

Nodding at Paul's character analysis of the two of them, Draia squinted slightly as she thought it all through, but it all rang so true, it put a bit of a smile on her lips. If I had had my way with OG Paul, it probably would have been borderline abuse. But you must tell me, where did you get a devious imagination? The Ferengi? The Borg? Somewhere else??"

He chuckles and sips at his drink, "Mostly the Ferengi, when it comes to females they literally have no shame. I must admit you have flourished in the less restricted environment aboard the Mary Rose. It suits you. "

Draia swayed closer to Paul. So close, she could practically smell the natural scent of his skin. But, mostly, she didn't want to be overheard when they were talking about her failed career in Starfleet. "I appreciate that," Draia said, the comment was genuine, lacking in the sort of cultural bravado Draia usually pushed through her lungs quicker than air. "Thank you. I think when I met Starfleet officers for the first time, I had never met any people anywhere who were like that before," Draia admitted. "I was starstruck. I wanted to be like them. But it was never going to be a fit for me. Starfleet had no place for my strengths and kept asking me to leverage my weaknesses. It was never going to work."

"Sort of the same for me. They rescued me and most of my colony from the borg. And I suppose it felt right to pay them back. And throw my commission in the face of some of the doctors from Daystrom who wanted to turn a stupid unlock ."

"What happened to your Starfleet commission?" Draia asked of Paul. There was visible concern on her face, as if Paul had lost an arm or his one good eye.

"It's on hold so to speak. I've agreed with the fools back a Daystrom, I'm a potential security risk for the federation. I'm still learning to balance the two mindsets and it is just easier to be on a commercial minded ship. It's been an amazingly fortuitous because it came with a friendly flirtatious face."

Nodding in agreement, Draia looked to Paul with a wolfish grin. "Reuben owned me a favour of old," Draia said, pleased to have found herself here. "This old ship is a pleasing step up from my last job. When the Cap'n got your application, I insisted you had to come aboard. He'd never find another scientist like you."

Paul chuckles, "I think he was thinking I was a genius or something not the weird mixed up mess I am. But I am flattered." He pats her hand, "I like this. Us bantering, or flirting. I would like to do this more often."

"It's not that big a ship. Not the livable parts of it, anyway," Draia said in retort, almost as if Paul had insulted her. The whole time, she was smirking, because they were both in on the joke. "You don't have too many choices for friends around here," Draia said, punching Paul on the arm. "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not."

He laughs, "Well that is good then. I enjoy your presence." He sips his drink, "I wasn't here for friends but some room to regrow, but I'm being flexible on all fronts. And with you here there will likely be no areas left un-repaired, or perhaps unexplored in short order."

"You must tell me," Draia said in her most serious timbre. Even when she was pretending the situation was dire, there was still a smirk on her face. "Where are you most damaged?"

He sips his drink, "Most damaged? I would say its in how to process sensations. Humans and Ferengi have similiar nerve structures but the differences have been uncomfortable at first to process. I still have ghost sensations of having extremely sensitive ear structures. Though having my lobes rubbed still feels good its not as likely to have me a drooling buffoon alone."

He smiles, "But if there is one thing I do know its adapting."

"Most definitely," Draia affirmed, emphasizing it with a nod. "You've had to adapt to an awful lot of life," she said, her eyes going wide. Waggling her fingers at Paul, she indicated his technological augmentations from the Borg, and his Human ears, despite the Ferengi essence that had been poured into his body.

He chuckles, "The sensations aren't all bad though. Silks now feel positively sinful and I got some moments in my recent life recorded." he grins what he feels is roguishly, "Some good ones from a beach trip."

"I would expect," she said, "you will share those recordings with me. Later."

"It would be my pleasure. My door is always open for you."

OFF::

Paul Cullars
Hydroponics Operator
S.S. Mary Rose

Draia Theroh
Engineering Chief
S.S. Mary Rose