Crisis on the Frontier 4X01
Location: Langley Station - Mess Hall
Timeline: MD01 17:42
Having just left the USS Philadelphia's docking bay, Michael found himself in need of a coffee and after a few detours, due to construction, he was able to locate the station's Mess Hall. At the replicator her ordered a black coffee with just a hint of chicory. After receiving his beverage, he looked around for a table in the crowded room.
Bill sat alone at his table, nursing a pint of lager. The same pint he’d got two hours ago. It was room temperature now, not desirable for that kind of drink. He didn’t care, he was too busy thinking. He needed a way to avoid going on that ship. Find a way to get re-assigned to shipyards somewhere. That’s what he needed for his career.
Noticing a table with a young man in operations gold nursing a beer, Michael approached him and said. "Good day, Lieutenant, is this seat taken?" motioning to the empty chair opposite the man.
"Knock yourself out." Bill replied, gesturing to the seat "Bill Hendrix. And you are?"
"Michael Deveroux." Michael said as he took the seat.
"Nice to meet you." Bill replied, taking a sip from his beer and grimacing "Warm. Gross."
Serenity needed food. She entered the mess hall and approached the replicator with a practiced ease. The mess hall was busy, which was to be expected but with her tray in hand she attempted to navigate the room. Finding a table with fellow gold uniforms she didn't even hesitate as she took a seat. "Feel free to kick me out if you need the seat, but I am starving." She replied with a grin.
"Okay. Get out." Bill said, grinning "I'm kidding. I'm Bill, nice to meet you. And this is... Mitchell, was it?"
"Michael." Michael corrected not sure if the younger man was teasing him or not. "A pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant...?"
"Lieutenant Jayne." she replied with a grin. "Serenity." she added as she took a bit of her burger. Her eyes closed as the pleasure of finally getting to eat. "God, this is good. I am so hungry I am pretty sure my boot would be amazing." She finished with a laugh.
"You've not lived until you've had a boot sandwich." Bill quipped "All that leathery goodness."
Serenity laughed at the comment. She appreciated someone playing along. "I am pretty sure we have all had one at one point."
"I like mine Cajun style." Michael said with a smile.
"Cajun boots. I'm sure that's a musical..." Bill said, taking a swig of his beer "And that is still warm."
"I'll get you a new beer, Bill." Michael said standing up and heading to the bar.
Stemmed glass balanced between her third and forth fingers, lieutenant Ema Ourielle turned away from the bartender. She tilted the purple-red Fanto Cor Vino, a heavy and spicy wine from Izar, to her lips and surveyed the crowded mess hall. She had become fond of the wine during her years studying on Alpha Centauri IV, and had been delighted when she'd flagged it on the station's reserve wine list. Langley station was more active than she had expected, and after the unpleasantness of her journey there, she was glad to lose herself in the crowd and the noise.
As she brought the glass away from her mouth after a lengthy pull, she noticed a gold-collared office making his way toward the bar. She turned away from the commotion of the large common area, taking a seat on one of the many barstools positioned in the bar area. Ema gracefully took another, smaller drink and drummed her manicured fingertips on the bartop. "Stupid mother..." she muttered under her breath as she put the glass down between her hands, palms cupped over the base.
"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" Michael asked the blue collared woman.
Ema looked up to see the same officer she'd clocked before sidling up alongside her. "Not with you," she said offering him a friendly grin. "My actual mother though," she lifted her glass and swirled the contents, "we had a... disagreement on the way here."
"Family can be difficult at times." Michael said. "I'm Michael."
"Ema," she said, and put the glass down without taking a draw. "What brings you to Lagley?"
"I'm meeting my new ship here." Michael said. "How about you?"
Ema tossed her mane of jet black curls and repositioned herself to better face Michael. "I hear that's going around," she quipped. "Endevour for me. How about you?"
"Endeavour, looks like we're going to be crew mates." Michael replied.
She raised a hand to flag down the bartender. "Then a toast, I think," she said as the Rigellian arrived and asked what he could do for them. "What can I get for you, Michael?"
"Coffee with a pinch of chickory, thanks." Michael said.
Ema chuckled at that. "We must be on different rotations," she said as her laughter abated as quickly as it has come. She turned her hazel eyes back to the barman. "You heard him, please." Then looking back at Michael said, "Coffee should make for an interesting toast."
"I'm a recovering alcoholic, I can't have anything stronger." Michael explained.
"That is unfortunate," she said looking sidelong at her wine glass.
"Yeah, I sure miss the Bourbon." Michael admitted.
A moment later the Rigellian returned with Michael's coffee, a thin trail of steam rising from the aromatic brew. As the barman turned his back to them, Ema raised her own glass into the air between herself and Michael. “To new horizons,” offered and waited for the clink of his mug against her own clear wine glass.
"To new horizons." Michael agreed.