Bar Talk

Posted on 08 May 2010 @ 11:40pm by

1,589 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: M4: The Cartaris Strain
Location: Future Bar
Timeline: Current

Rhys paced the area that would be her bar, waiting for Mac to arrive. She'd called him less than ten minutes before and yet, she was impatient. There were still a lot of kinks to work out with her plans but at the same time, she figured who better to help her figure things out logistically? Maybe he'd even have a better idea than what she'd come up with.

Mac strode into the small room, eyes immediately searching for and locking on to hers as he made his way over to where she was. She was strikingly attractive, but the little voice in Mac's head reminded him that she, like the other attractive women on-board, was likely taken.

'Bloody shame for ye, Mac' He thought silently to himself.

"Miss Rhys, to what do Ah owe th' pleasure?" He asked congenially, trying to keep his gaze from staring at her captivating bright emerald eyes.

She snickered a bit behind her hand and then coughed a bit before saying, "To the fact that I need help with this damn bar. I don't know why I let myself get talked into this...the bar OR this freaking morale officer thing...but that's no business of yours..."

"Is that an overwhelmed attitude ye 'ave there, lass?" He asked with concern, adding quickly, "B'cause we don't allow that 'ere on the Freedom." He got the feeling that she had signed on with the expectation of being the lounge manager and little more, a job she was comfortable with and could grasp easily, and was handed more than she needed at the time. She looked intelligent enough, a fire in her eyes that showed determination beneath the surface of the resigned attitude.

"Overwhelmed? No," Rhys said flatly, the spark in her eyes telling him all he needed to know. Of course, if he knew who her father was, he'd know she'd been under pressure all her life to be the perfect daughter, join Starfleet, be the perfect officer. And, until now, she'd avoided all that very nicely...

"Ye can tell me if somethin's wrong, Ah'm a decent listener once Ah shut mae mouth." He told her quietly with a friendly grin.

That caused her to laugh, her flirtatious side coming out as she said coyly, "Are you now? That's definitely a claim that most men cannot make."

"Well," he said matter-of-factly, "Ah'm nae most men, if ye 'aven't noticed." He stepped over to a nearby set of chairs huddled around a table, plucking two from the table's orbit and settling them facing each other near the two of them. "Sit." He said, the statement coming as more of a request than an order. "What's on yer mind, love?"

Taking the seat, turning the chair to straddle it, Rhys rested her arms on what was supposed to be the back of the chair and said, "I'm frustrated, which isn't great when I'm supposed to be the freaking 'morale officer.' I put several ideas past the captain and he wasn't thrilled with my favorite. Now I'm wondering if we could potentially rotate themes, but I'm also not one to try to please everyone so, what do you think? I wanted to do a smokey lounge or pub with jazz or blues playing either on an old-fashioned jukebox or with a holo-band."

"In that case," Mac thought aloud, "why nae be able t' do both? We could install a full set o' holo-emitters that would dress th' place accordingly, with a program designed by yours truly o' course." He gestured to himself as he spoke. He thought the idea had merit, but her statement that she wasn't trying to please everyone would be the deciding factor. Leaning forward on his elbows, He traced her eyes again as they drew his attention, "Personally, Ah like the Jazz an' Blues idea th' best."

Grinning, Rhys' eyes sparkled with mischief and she said, "Well then, if the engineer and the bartender like the idea, who's the captain to keep it from happening? I want billard tables and a blue haze...to match the blues and jazz of course."

"Sounds perfect, now th' second order o' business," He took a bit more serious attitude, "What's botherin' ye personally?"

"What do you mean?" Rhys asked, trying to blow off her earlier attitude as nonchalance or even defiance and frustration.

"Yer over-stressed, that's what Ah mean." He said with sympathy. He certainly understood the strain of taking not one but two new jobs, a task that wasn't to be taken lightly or without grief. Mac knew it was difficult from his days on the Epsilon, having been made the CEO on that ship under some very dire circumstances. He'd had many a sleepless night on that tour, but his resolve was a bit stronger than most which allowed him to carry on through the constant bombardment with a good sense of accomplishment.

The solitary difference here was that the role had evidently been passed on to her.

"It doesn' help matters to keep t' yourself, trust me." He said in a low, even tone.

Rhys chuckled ironically and said flatly, "Oh, I'm not stressed. I'm annoyed. I got talked into coming aboard a ship as civilian and then got the buck passed on to me as 'morale officer' when I *swore* as a child that I would NEVER land myself in any capacity on a Federation ship and said I would curse the day I became a Fleety. Now it seems both have happened and all I want to do is run and jump ship," she concluded honestly.

"Oh, ye cannae do that," Mac gestured to the window, "It's a wee bit chilly outside." He spoke seriously, only his slight smile betraying his underlying amusement. He figured that she'd been jaded by some event in her life, probably in early childhood. Unfortunately there was little she, or anyone, was able to do at this point as the ship was already underway.

"What 'appened, love?"

"Happened?" Rhys asked, amused herself at his wording as she shook her head and gave him a crooked half-smile with a twinkle in her eyes, "Nothing has to 'happen' when you grow up a military brat."

"Ahh, That's what 'appened, Dad was ne'er home I suppose?" Mac knew only too well how that felt, his father being gone since he was eight years old. It was a sad thing to see, someone who was so affected by their parent's absence, especially when it was only because of their career. "Ah'm sorry it turned out tha' way for you, nobody should be second t' a parent's career."

Rhys shrugged it off and said, "Actually, Dad dragged me with him. Mom left early on so it was just the two of us. I was the proverbial 'apple of his eye'," she added rather sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. Somehow, she thought this guy was getting her all wrong and she truly thought it was hilarious. Entertaining to say the least, which was why she then said with a grin, "Of course, I was also the proverbial 'black sheep' as well. No one else to take the titles when you're the only one."

"Ah see, that makes sense actually. Ah see why ye could dislike the service." Mac admitted. He was certainly not one to insult, but he had a lot of opinions about how family and Starfleet should be properly handled, lest this kind of situation become of it. "Th' real question is, will ye see it through to the end, or keep running from th' past?"

"Oh, it's not the past I'm running from. It's the present," Rhys responded casually although it wasn't entirely true. In a sense, she was running from both but in truth, she was running from her father, from his control, his scrutiny. She'd had enough of his rigid lifestyle.

"What Ah mean is, are ye going t' stay 'ere and see what happens," He asked slowly, "Or be gone with th' midnight breeze once we hit port?"

That question caused her to pause before saying, "We'll see. No promises."

Honestly, he'd be disappointed if she left so soon, "You'll 'ave to stay until th' bar is complete though, that's a necessity. I'll write somethin' up t'night." He said with a touch of enthusiasm. Personally, he was excited to have a bar with some good music to go to when his shift was up, and he was one of the people to help with the plans, it would turn out pretty well for him at the least. Mac was a sucker for good music, though he didn't like to show it, and was pretty picky when it came to jazz. There was good jazz and bad jazz, and knowing the difference between the two was a good skill to have.

"Ah'll bring ye a prototype of some diff'rent arrangements t'morrow." He promised.

"Sounds like a plan," Rhys nodded with a quirky smile. He seemed like the type who might have something up his sleeve. She'd have to keep an eye on him. He was one to watch for sure.

He stood, pushing his chair back toward the table he'd retrieved it from, "A'right then, 'ave a good night, Miss Rhys."

"You too, Mac," Rhys responded with a grin and a nod.

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This Heart-to Heart Conversation Brought To You By:

Lieutenant MacCallum Flaherty
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Freedom

And,

Civilian Rhys
Resident Bar Owner
USS Freedom

 

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