Interlude – Poetically, a drink leads to friendship
by Cardassian Gilnn Denat Meran & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
[ON]
Denat felt he owed himself some relaxation from his gruelling tasks laid down for him, "I think I’ll treat myself." He said to anyone who wished to listen in his quarters. He arched his neck up from its position and stretched it. Denat pushed himself from his seat and walked over to his large mirror to begin his 'brush-up'; he brushed his uniform down and neat, pulled the shoulder pads apart to outline any creases, combed his hair with the brush he already had in his hand. After satisfied with his appearance, Denat drifted out of his quarters and into the turbo-lift adjacent to his door. As the turbo-lift rendezvoused to his position, Denat pondered, 'where shall I go?' he asked himself. A cheery bleep came from overhead to signify the turbo-lifts approach and Denat stood directly in front of the doors as they opened. He walked in and allowed the doors to close before he announced his destination. "Promenade" he bellowed. A brief transit ensued and before Denat knew it, he was!
Staring into the gaping area that was the promenade, he shovelled himself out the lift, Denat decided not to pick like a tourist and instead chose the first place he saw, 'The Box of Delights' the overhanging sign said.
And delightful it looked. Through the wide-open entry way he could see the place was thronged with beings of all species. Attractive men and women threaded their way through the tables balancing trays of drinks. Crowds gathered around the spinning flashing lights of the dabo tables, and hovered by the tense and serious individuals seated at the tongo and poker tables. Along the balconies above the bar people congregated watching the crowd below. Scrolling signs along the large windows made alluring promises of hundred of real, unsynthesized drinks, from the finest spirits, to the most spirited cocktails. They promised gaming without limits, live music and comedy, beautiful dancers, and thousands of holo-programs to suit every age, species and desire.
Denat, ecstatic over the flashing of lights, quick movement of bodies and the deafening roars of the crowd's drew him into this 'out of place' place. Standing at the arch separating the two very different atmospheres, he felt the rapid change in temperature from the warm bodies that inhabited the place and he felt warmer from the unlike-able colder climate Human's preferred. Denat began to scan for a seat at the bar, moving his vision across from left to right, passing species he has never seen before. An empty seat by itself in the darkest corner of the bar, with only a small light panel close-by illuminating the underside of the counter. Denat brushed his way past several others at a fast pace to secure the spot. From his newly occupied position, Denat sluggishly rose his head towards the room and watched as players placed bets on the Dabo tables. Constantly losing sight from other customers rocking back and forth shrieking at the floor with their colleagues. Denat anxiously waited to be addressed by any being, whether it was a fellow Cardassian: or the bartender.
Walking back to the bar from creating batch of Samarian Sunsets at a table, Yolanthe noticed a customer sitting without a drink, a terrible state of affairs that she intended to remedy. She tucked a strand of purple hair behind an ear and approached. As she moved closer, she realised that the customer was cardassian. She smiled, becoming a similar shade of blue to bolians and andorians. So far, every cardassian she had found inside her beloved bar had both insatiable appetites and deep pockets. It was a combination she thoroughly approved of. The statuesque woman stopped at the side of the table and smiled down at her newest customer. "What's your poison, sweetie?"
Denat maintained his sight of the Dabo tables, watching the strategies of the Ferengi Vs the Bolian. He acknowledged Yolanthe's presence by raising his finger. After a few moments, he moved his head to face Yolanthe, and stared at her for a moment. As a quiz, he questioned her. With a small movement to the right and keeping the focus, he politely asked, "What ever you think I may like. What do you think I might like?".
She slid into the seat opposite and leaned forward slightly so she could look at him. He had neither Ambassador Getal’s debonair suaveness nor Sotar's aura of raw brute strength. He looked like he'd be beaten one too many times for comfort, and then deprived of the miracles of modern medicine. But there was something there that meant that yet again, here was a cardassian who was not conforming to stereotype. For a moment the blue lightened to aqua, as she wondered why they had the reputation they had in the first place, and then returned to her normal violet. "I think that you like Kanar. You are a cardassian after all, and I have some very good Kanar. But it’s not what you need." She tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. "I think what you need is something else entirely.
"From the looks of you, you've already proved whatever it is you have to prove many times over." She continued. "So we can throw out anything Klingon. And since you're paying a lot of attention to my dabo tables, I'm guessing you want your faculties tonight. So there goes romulan ale and rhennish, and most other straight spirits. So we're into the long drinks and the mixers." She gave him a mischievous smile. "How am I doing?"
"You seem to be a sharp-tool!" he announced. "Continue." he proceeded. He leant forward, thudding his arms onto the table and bringing his head to meet the hands already open to receive it.
She grinned and carried on. "Well, you're watching the tables, not the croupiers or my serving staff, so I'm guessing I can also rule out a whole bunch of cocktails with names that can be used as pick up lines. Which means you're either going to watch then play, or watch then learn, so you have time for something a bit more sophisticated than lager and beer. On that basis I would get you a martini but since you're not going to give it the attention it deserves....” she drummed her fingernails on the table for a second. "I think I'm going to get you a Barolo. Its one of the terran wines I have in at the moment. I think you'll like it. It’s very good. Great colour, fantastic body. Want to try?"
Denat was fascinated at the arms-length analysis she had made of him and listened to the tone of her voice to ascertain whether she was trying to come over as a 'sweet talker' or was generally going to serve him a drink. To continue the conversation, he made a conjecture. "Barolo, sounds good!" he declared.
"Excellent choice!" She gave him a warm smile and stood up again. "I'll be right back."
She was as good as her word, holding her tray above the crowd as she headed back towards him. On the tray were a dark red bottle, a crystal glass and a decanter to match. She slid the tray onto the table in front of him and held the bottle out for his inspection. The label said 2369. She pulled on the chain round her neck and drew out her corkscrew, uncorked the bottle with a few practised twists and carefully decanted the contents to keep the sediment in the bottle. "You don't have to leave it to breathe for long, a few minutes really, now it’s decanted." The ruby liquid gleamed from inside the crystal, giving Denat a brief waft of its full rich aroma.
She folded the corkscrew and put it back inside her shirt. "And now, I'm afraid I must inflict some pain." She took a credit padd out her trouser pocket. "If you could do the honours, I'll leave you to enjoy your drink."
"By all means, Ma'am" he finished with a small friendly bow towards her and pressed his thumb to the PADD she had withdrawn from her pocket and awaited for the 'Acknowledgement bleep' it chirps after a successful transaction.
"Ma'am," she murmured with a smile, the blue hues in her skin deepening for a moment. "Oh I like you," she glanced down at the padd, "Glinn Meran. You can come back."
It bleeped and she put it down on her tray. "But for now, enjoy your drink, and my establishment. If there's anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask." She took the tray and sashayed back into the crowd, leaving Denat alone with his wine.
"Yes, Ma'am" He repeated to himself and raised his glass and his eyebrow slightly towards her tracks. He drew his cold lips to the contrasting blue glass and lapped at the tart taste in his mouth after a satisfying gulp. He continued to watch the Dabo players; predicting their movements to the last turn and calculating the winnings the Ferengi would try to swindle. 'Enough' he thought, the last move had been played. Ferengi down, the Bolian counting his winnings, Denat smiled for his victory and toasted his glass once more towards the air.
Denat felt uncomfortable in the confined booth, and his xenophobic nature began to usurp his control. Without another thought, he grabbed the bottle on the table, finished the glass he had and brought them to a stool at the bar, where Yolanthe was sorting a few glasses of her own. Denat looked at Yolanthe, hoping her to strike a conversation and not him.
"Hello again." She placed the glasses on a tray, and a pretty young risian girl swept them away to a distant table. "Not fancying your chances on the tables?"
"Nah." he politely dismissed the offer. "I prefer to observe a match than play. besides, if I played Vs the house, the damage done by the payment earlier would be healed." He winked.
She laughed, turning sky blue. "Only temporarily." She leant forward on her elbows, so she didn't tower over him so much. "This house always wins." She examined him top to toe, "Always."
"Then perhaps." He continued, "We should have a game soon. But not now: I must report back to Tharek." He ended with a grudgy tone and handed the bottle back to Yolanthe. "Do call on me when you’re ready for a game?" he asked.
[OFF]
A Joint-post By:
Gilnn Denat Meran
Head of Cardassian Security
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, The Box of Delights
by Cardassian Gilnn Denat Meran & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin
Post Details
| Title | Poetically, a drink leads to friendship | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Cardassian Gilnn Denat Meran & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin | |
| Posted | Sun May 09, 2010 @ 5:00pm | |
| Location | Box Of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD17 - evening |
Denat felt he owed himself some relaxation from his gruelling tasks laid down for him, "I think I’ll treat myself." He said to anyone who wished to listen in his quarters. He arched his neck up from its position and stretched it. Denat pushed himself from his seat and walked over to his large mirror to begin his 'brush-up'; he brushed his uniform down and neat, pulled the shoulder pads apart to outline any creases, combed his hair with the brush he already had in his hand. After satisfied with his appearance, Denat drifted out of his quarters and into the turbo-lift adjacent to his door. As the turbo-lift rendezvoused to his position, Denat pondered, 'where shall I go?' he asked himself. A cheery bleep came from overhead to signify the turbo-lifts approach and Denat stood directly in front of the doors as they opened. He walked in and allowed the doors to close before he announced his destination. "Promenade" he bellowed. A brief transit ensued and before Denat knew it, he was!
Staring into the gaping area that was the promenade, he shovelled himself out the lift, Denat decided not to pick like a tourist and instead chose the first place he saw, 'The Box of Delights' the overhanging sign said.
And delightful it looked. Through the wide-open entry way he could see the place was thronged with beings of all species. Attractive men and women threaded their way through the tables balancing trays of drinks. Crowds gathered around the spinning flashing lights of the dabo tables, and hovered by the tense and serious individuals seated at the tongo and poker tables. Along the balconies above the bar people congregated watching the crowd below. Scrolling signs along the large windows made alluring promises of hundred of real, unsynthesized drinks, from the finest spirits, to the most spirited cocktails. They promised gaming without limits, live music and comedy, beautiful dancers, and thousands of holo-programs to suit every age, species and desire.
Denat, ecstatic over the flashing of lights, quick movement of bodies and the deafening roars of the crowd's drew him into this 'out of place' place. Standing at the arch separating the two very different atmospheres, he felt the rapid change in temperature from the warm bodies that inhabited the place and he felt warmer from the unlike-able colder climate Human's preferred. Denat began to scan for a seat at the bar, moving his vision across from left to right, passing species he has never seen before. An empty seat by itself in the darkest corner of the bar, with only a small light panel close-by illuminating the underside of the counter. Denat brushed his way past several others at a fast pace to secure the spot. From his newly occupied position, Denat sluggishly rose his head towards the room and watched as players placed bets on the Dabo tables. Constantly losing sight from other customers rocking back and forth shrieking at the floor with their colleagues. Denat anxiously waited to be addressed by any being, whether it was a fellow Cardassian: or the bartender.
Walking back to the bar from creating batch of Samarian Sunsets at a table, Yolanthe noticed a customer sitting without a drink, a terrible state of affairs that she intended to remedy. She tucked a strand of purple hair behind an ear and approached. As she moved closer, she realised that the customer was cardassian. She smiled, becoming a similar shade of blue to bolians and andorians. So far, every cardassian she had found inside her beloved bar had both insatiable appetites and deep pockets. It was a combination she thoroughly approved of. The statuesque woman stopped at the side of the table and smiled down at her newest customer. "What's your poison, sweetie?"
Denat maintained his sight of the Dabo tables, watching the strategies of the Ferengi Vs the Bolian. He acknowledged Yolanthe's presence by raising his finger. After a few moments, he moved his head to face Yolanthe, and stared at her for a moment. As a quiz, he questioned her. With a small movement to the right and keeping the focus, he politely asked, "What ever you think I may like. What do you think I might like?".
She slid into the seat opposite and leaned forward slightly so she could look at him. He had neither Ambassador Getal’s debonair suaveness nor Sotar's aura of raw brute strength. He looked like he'd be beaten one too many times for comfort, and then deprived of the miracles of modern medicine. But there was something there that meant that yet again, here was a cardassian who was not conforming to stereotype. For a moment the blue lightened to aqua, as she wondered why they had the reputation they had in the first place, and then returned to her normal violet. "I think that you like Kanar. You are a cardassian after all, and I have some very good Kanar. But it’s not what you need." She tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips. "I think what you need is something else entirely.
"From the looks of you, you've already proved whatever it is you have to prove many times over." She continued. "So we can throw out anything Klingon. And since you're paying a lot of attention to my dabo tables, I'm guessing you want your faculties tonight. So there goes romulan ale and rhennish, and most other straight spirits. So we're into the long drinks and the mixers." She gave him a mischievous smile. "How am I doing?"
"You seem to be a sharp-tool!" he announced. "Continue." he proceeded. He leant forward, thudding his arms onto the table and bringing his head to meet the hands already open to receive it.
She grinned and carried on. "Well, you're watching the tables, not the croupiers or my serving staff, so I'm guessing I can also rule out a whole bunch of cocktails with names that can be used as pick up lines. Which means you're either going to watch then play, or watch then learn, so you have time for something a bit more sophisticated than lager and beer. On that basis I would get you a martini but since you're not going to give it the attention it deserves....” she drummed her fingernails on the table for a second. "I think I'm going to get you a Barolo. Its one of the terran wines I have in at the moment. I think you'll like it. It’s very good. Great colour, fantastic body. Want to try?"
Denat was fascinated at the arms-length analysis she had made of him and listened to the tone of her voice to ascertain whether she was trying to come over as a 'sweet talker' or was generally going to serve him a drink. To continue the conversation, he made a conjecture. "Barolo, sounds good!" he declared.
"Excellent choice!" She gave him a warm smile and stood up again. "I'll be right back."
She was as good as her word, holding her tray above the crowd as she headed back towards him. On the tray were a dark red bottle, a crystal glass and a decanter to match. She slid the tray onto the table in front of him and held the bottle out for his inspection. The label said 2369. She pulled on the chain round her neck and drew out her corkscrew, uncorked the bottle with a few practised twists and carefully decanted the contents to keep the sediment in the bottle. "You don't have to leave it to breathe for long, a few minutes really, now it’s decanted." The ruby liquid gleamed from inside the crystal, giving Denat a brief waft of its full rich aroma.
She folded the corkscrew and put it back inside her shirt. "And now, I'm afraid I must inflict some pain." She took a credit padd out her trouser pocket. "If you could do the honours, I'll leave you to enjoy your drink."
"By all means, Ma'am" he finished with a small friendly bow towards her and pressed his thumb to the PADD she had withdrawn from her pocket and awaited for the 'Acknowledgement bleep' it chirps after a successful transaction.
"Ma'am," she murmured with a smile, the blue hues in her skin deepening for a moment. "Oh I like you," she glanced down at the padd, "Glinn Meran. You can come back."
It bleeped and she put it down on her tray. "But for now, enjoy your drink, and my establishment. If there's anything I can do for you, all you have to do is ask." She took the tray and sashayed back into the crowd, leaving Denat alone with his wine.
"Yes, Ma'am" He repeated to himself and raised his glass and his eyebrow slightly towards her tracks. He drew his cold lips to the contrasting blue glass and lapped at the tart taste in his mouth after a satisfying gulp. He continued to watch the Dabo players; predicting their movements to the last turn and calculating the winnings the Ferengi would try to swindle. 'Enough' he thought, the last move had been played. Ferengi down, the Bolian counting his winnings, Denat smiled for his victory and toasted his glass once more towards the air.
Denat felt uncomfortable in the confined booth, and his xenophobic nature began to usurp his control. Without another thought, he grabbed the bottle on the table, finished the glass he had and brought them to a stool at the bar, where Yolanthe was sorting a few glasses of her own. Denat looked at Yolanthe, hoping her to strike a conversation and not him.
"Hello again." She placed the glasses on a tray, and a pretty young risian girl swept them away to a distant table. "Not fancying your chances on the tables?"
"Nah." he politely dismissed the offer. "I prefer to observe a match than play. besides, if I played Vs the house, the damage done by the payment earlier would be healed." He winked.
She laughed, turning sky blue. "Only temporarily." She leant forward on her elbows, so she didn't tower over him so much. "This house always wins." She examined him top to toe, "Always."
"Then perhaps." He continued, "We should have a game soon. But not now: I must report back to Tharek." He ended with a grudgy tone and handed the bottle back to Yolanthe. "Do call on me when you’re ready for a game?" he asked.
[OFF]
A Joint-post By:
Gilnn Denat Meran
Head of Cardassian Security
&
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, The Box of Delights