Incommunicado – Sunset on the Beach is just a drink
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Stovon Reece
Post Details
On::
Bartenders knew all the secrets. It was something Stovon had learned in his travels. Not that they were inclined to give them away, but if you asked the right questions, you could learn more in a single night than in weeks of your own effort. And finding the right place was simply a matter of following the crowds.
The Box of Delights did its best to live up to its name. Drinks, gambling, pretty staff. He turned to watch one waiter go past. Very pretty staff. And it was large enough that he didn't have to worry about his personal space.
He ignored the gambling tables -- no one wanted to gamble with a Vulcan, not even a half one. Always convinced they were counting cards or such -- and headed for the bar. Grabbing a seat, he signaled for the attention of the bartender.
A woman with dusky violet skin turned to him, and smiled. She was statuesque, taller than he was, "Welcome to the Box of Delights. What's your poison?"
"Altairian brandy. Unless there's a specialty of the house that you'd recommend instead?"
"I mix a mean martini," she leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the top of the bar. "Or are you looking for something to start the night with a bang?"
"Never been one for mixed drinks. I suppose I have a bit of a purist streak that way. But I know better than to argue with a expert in their field. If you say the martini is the best you have to offer, I'll take the martini." He leaned his elbows on the bar. "Along with your name, if you're willing to give it."
The alien woman grinned and reached for a bottle of gin. "Yolanthe, your humble bartender for tonight." She poured measures by eye, and stirred carefully. "What's yours?"
"Stovon." And, since it always came out anyway, he reached up and tucked his hair behind one year, revealing the pointed tip. "I'd offer to shake hands, but I'm not really the handshaking type."
"Me neither, not part of my culture." She slowly drained the cocktail into its glass and added an olive on a stick, She pushed it across the bar. "Romulan or Vulcan?"
Stovon regarded the drink for a moment, before taking a sip. He nodded to himself, as if answering an unvoiced question. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said human."
"You all look alike to me," she shrugged. "if you say you're human, you're human, sweetie."
"Spoken like a bartender." Without thought, his fingers echoed the lines of her spine, shoulder and wrist along the top of the bar. "So this is the first time I've been out this way. I'm betting you might be able to give a thirsty traveler some advice on how to make the best use of his stay."
"Yes, I could," she paused as a pretty waitress with a Risian clan mark between her brows stepped up and ordered a group of cocktails for a table. Starting on the new order, she turned back to Stovon, "Though I'm very biased. It's a big bad galaxy out there, and I'd recommend you stay in my nice little bar, where it's safe. I have dabo, tongo, poker, we run dom-jot and prayko and quoits in the second half of the main holodeck most nights, and the holospa has every fantasy you could possibly imagine." With the last, the violet skin and hair faded slightly, becoming more grey than violet, like smoke.
"That makes it a great shame that I don't gamble. Though, I can assure you, your drinks will keep me returning." He took a sip of his martini. "Still, the galaxy can't be all bad. It brought you here, after all."
She laughed, but her skin darkened again, all trace of violet gone, her skin was now steely grey and her hair like coal. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"A professional hazard. Artists are expected to unrepentant flirts. Not that I terribly mind," Stovon admitted, "but, in truth, it's more habit than anything else. While women are aesthetically pleasing -- you, for instance, make me think of a bornite sculpture -- on a personal level, I'm afraid I find them little more than charming friends."
At the compliment, a touch of blue seeped into her colouring, "Well, in that case, I suggest you may want to start gambling, or drinking very heavily. No one will tell you my boys are hard on the eye, and as for Blake," she began turning a shade of coral. "Lets just say if he wasn't an employee..."
"You are a woman who knows her business. And I do mean that as a compliment. Though," he looked around at the other patrons, "I don't think you're in any risk if I keep my activities limited to more moderate drinking. I would do neither of us any good if I were to be arrested for taking a naked stroll down the Promenade, or for hitting on the wrong fellow."
She laughed then, the blue of her body becoming stronger. "I doubt either of those things would have security batting an eyelid, at least not in my direction. And you never know, now that Dorian Gabriel is out of the picture, they may develop a sense of humour too. That would put you in the clear."
"I don't think that's a possibility I want to bank on. In terms of meeting new people, spending the night in jail for being drunk and disorderly is not on the top of my list." He sighed. "I do worry that it's actually on the list."
Two long pink drinks were placed on a tray and then the bartender turned back to him. "Life is short, and you never know who you can meet in the cells here. The head of security for example."
"Are you trying to get me in trouble? Or are you trying to set me up on a date?" Stovon shook his head. "Remember, if I'm in a cell, I'm not available to enjoy your hospitality. Also, I tend to hold a grudge."
"Now that is a shame. A pretty thing like you shouldn't waste the energy on grudges. It causes wrinkles." She started on a third drink, throwing fruitjuices into a blender.
"We can't have that, now, can we?" He finished off the last of the martini and stood. "Thanks for the advice. And the drink. Rest assured, I will be back."
::OFF::
A JP between
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner
The Box of Delights
Stovon Reece
Artist
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Stovon Reece
Post Details
| Title | Sunset on the Beach is just a drink | |
| Mission | Incommunicado | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Stovon Reece | |
| Posted | Fri May 11, 2012 @ 7:25pm | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | Sd 57 2300 |
Bartenders knew all the secrets. It was something Stovon had learned in his travels. Not that they were inclined to give them away, but if you asked the right questions, you could learn more in a single night than in weeks of your own effort. And finding the right place was simply a matter of following the crowds.
The Box of Delights did its best to live up to its name. Drinks, gambling, pretty staff. He turned to watch one waiter go past. Very pretty staff. And it was large enough that he didn't have to worry about his personal space.
He ignored the gambling tables -- no one wanted to gamble with a Vulcan, not even a half one. Always convinced they were counting cards or such -- and headed for the bar. Grabbing a seat, he signaled for the attention of the bartender.
A woman with dusky violet skin turned to him, and smiled. She was statuesque, taller than he was, "Welcome to the Box of Delights. What's your poison?"
"Altairian brandy. Unless there's a specialty of the house that you'd recommend instead?"
"I mix a mean martini," she leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the top of the bar. "Or are you looking for something to start the night with a bang?"
"Never been one for mixed drinks. I suppose I have a bit of a purist streak that way. But I know better than to argue with a expert in their field. If you say the martini is the best you have to offer, I'll take the martini." He leaned his elbows on the bar. "Along with your name, if you're willing to give it."
The alien woman grinned and reached for a bottle of gin. "Yolanthe, your humble bartender for tonight." She poured measures by eye, and stirred carefully. "What's yours?"
"Stovon." And, since it always came out anyway, he reached up and tucked his hair behind one year, revealing the pointed tip. "I'd offer to shake hands, but I'm not really the handshaking type."
"Me neither, not part of my culture." She slowly drained the cocktail into its glass and added an olive on a stick, She pushed it across the bar. "Romulan or Vulcan?"
Stovon regarded the drink for a moment, before taking a sip. He nodded to himself, as if answering an unvoiced question. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said human."
"You all look alike to me," she shrugged. "if you say you're human, you're human, sweetie."
"Spoken like a bartender." Without thought, his fingers echoed the lines of her spine, shoulder and wrist along the top of the bar. "So this is the first time I've been out this way. I'm betting you might be able to give a thirsty traveler some advice on how to make the best use of his stay."
"Yes, I could," she paused as a pretty waitress with a Risian clan mark between her brows stepped up and ordered a group of cocktails for a table. Starting on the new order, she turned back to Stovon, "Though I'm very biased. It's a big bad galaxy out there, and I'd recommend you stay in my nice little bar, where it's safe. I have dabo, tongo, poker, we run dom-jot and prayko and quoits in the second half of the main holodeck most nights, and the holospa has every fantasy you could possibly imagine." With the last, the violet skin and hair faded slightly, becoming more grey than violet, like smoke.
"That makes it a great shame that I don't gamble. Though, I can assure you, your drinks will keep me returning." He took a sip of his martini. "Still, the galaxy can't be all bad. It brought you here, after all."
She laughed, but her skin darkened again, all trace of violet gone, her skin was now steely grey and her hair like coal. "I bet you say that to all the girls."
"A professional hazard. Artists are expected to unrepentant flirts. Not that I terribly mind," Stovon admitted, "but, in truth, it's more habit than anything else. While women are aesthetically pleasing -- you, for instance, make me think of a bornite sculpture -- on a personal level, I'm afraid I find them little more than charming friends."
At the compliment, a touch of blue seeped into her colouring, "Well, in that case, I suggest you may want to start gambling, or drinking very heavily. No one will tell you my boys are hard on the eye, and as for Blake," she began turning a shade of coral. "Lets just say if he wasn't an employee..."
"You are a woman who knows her business. And I do mean that as a compliment. Though," he looked around at the other patrons, "I don't think you're in any risk if I keep my activities limited to more moderate drinking. I would do neither of us any good if I were to be arrested for taking a naked stroll down the Promenade, or for hitting on the wrong fellow."
She laughed then, the blue of her body becoming stronger. "I doubt either of those things would have security batting an eyelid, at least not in my direction. And you never know, now that Dorian Gabriel is out of the picture, they may develop a sense of humour too. That would put you in the clear."
"I don't think that's a possibility I want to bank on. In terms of meeting new people, spending the night in jail for being drunk and disorderly is not on the top of my list." He sighed. "I do worry that it's actually on the list."
Two long pink drinks were placed on a tray and then the bartender turned back to him. "Life is short, and you never know who you can meet in the cells here. The head of security for example."
"Are you trying to get me in trouble? Or are you trying to set me up on a date?" Stovon shook his head. "Remember, if I'm in a cell, I'm not available to enjoy your hospitality. Also, I tend to hold a grudge."
"Now that is a shame. A pretty thing like you shouldn't waste the energy on grudges. It causes wrinkles." She started on a third drink, throwing fruitjuices into a blender.
"We can't have that, now, can we?" He finished off the last of the martini and stood. "Thanks for the advice. And the drink. Rest assured, I will be back."
::OFF::
A JP between
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner
The Box of Delights
Stovon Reece
Artist