Old Habits

Posted on Sat Nov 7th, 2015 @ 1:42am by Johnathen Wade & Commander Bertrand Cuprum

Mission: If I told you...
Location: Ten Forward

Bertrand was in an unusually foul mood, even by his standards. His arm hurt and his skin itched and he hadn't been sleeping. He knew that officially the crew understood his recent actions, but he still caught the flashes of emotion as he passed; resentment, fear, sadness, even occasional despair.

He needed something to eat and he didn't want to use the normal mess room. Ten forward was not officially open yet, but the replicators would be on line. He would slip in, grab something quick and get out without having to deal with...

The doors slid open at his approach and he stopped in his tracks.

It wasn't fair. He could have sworn he had walked into a holodeck simulation. Images and memories stormed his senses as he looked at the refurbished area. Bar stools, wine kegs, proper beer taps, spirit dispensers, even, oh gods, even a music box in one corner.

He felt giddy. If someone had riffled his mind for the images that made him feel most comfortable and warm, they could not have accrued a better selection. He took two steps into the room and then needed to stop again. His mind filled in the smell of slightly stale bear and smoke. He turned slowly expecting to see even... yes, there was a dart board.

He lurched uncertainly over to the bar. That, at least reminded him that he was not in a real tavern. The top was clean and pristine. Any real bar would quickly be stained, or at least sticky.

"Bar keep?" he croaked, fully expecting to see a middle aged portly man in an apron wiping glasses.

The barkeep came from behind the back, a new seperation added too the lounge to support a small kitchen. He wasn't wearing an apron nor was he portly, the middle aged was debatable, but he was wipeing ouy a glass. Jack was dressed in black slacks, a white button down shirt and a pair of suspender, his shoes, normal running shoes, where hidden behind the bar.

"How can I help you" Wade said with a smile. "And you can call me Jack"

Jack lives here a treacherous voice said at the back of Bertrand's head. He remembered seeing the crew roster for a new manager for Ten Forward.

"Jack," Bertrand said, filing the name away. Bertrand ran a policeman's eye over the other man. They were probably similar ages, and there was something in the stance of the man. This was not a person who had spent his life behind a bar; it was a later choice in life. He offered out his left arm to shake. "Bertrand, Chief of Security. You've... you've done an amazing job on the place. You obviously have a passion. Are your drinks as good as your interior decoration?"

Bertrand hesitated. He knew he shouldn't. Technically he wasn't on duty, though. He needed to know how good this guy was.

"Cinnamon Whiskey," he ordered.

Why? Why did he need to know how good this guy was? What did it matter? It would probably be better if he was really bad at mixing drinks. Yes, that was it. Bertrand needed to know that this guy was really bad at making drinks. There would be no issue then. That must be why he had asked.

Jack smirked and reached behind him for an unlabeled bottled, in side was the familiar amber liquid that was whiskey, along with a few cinnamon sticks and single dried red chili. He poured a bit into a shot glass and placed it in front of Bertrand. "Try this my friend. I infuse my own cinnamon whiskey, but I got some of the labeled stuff if you don't like it."

The whiskey was smooth and sweet on initial sip, then after it started to go down the cinnamon and the chili pepper gives you a sweet kick on the mouth. Bertrand coughed just once, his eyes watering slightly.

"That", he said placing the glass back on the counter, "Is more than just domestic cinnamon. I like it."

It certainly discourages me from drinking too much of it in a single go, he thought privately. The though shook him and he carefully pushed the glass away.

"I... think I had better go to something softer," he told Jack reluctantly, "But I will be back for that later." The last bit came out before he was able to stop it.

"You wanna go no alcohol, or maybe just some beers and ales and such?"

"Want?" Bertrand responded. "What I want is... No... we'll go with the no-alcohol. And something to eat, something high protein but low in fats."

He waited for a different drink to be brought out and tried to enjoy it just as much.

"You're ex-security,"Bertrand hazarded, but knew instantly he had guessed wrong. "Something in the way you stand. You always find that point where you are watching the whole room, even when its empty."

Jack ducked behind the counter and pulled out a brown bottle with no label and a chilled beer glass. He poured the contents of the bottle into the glass, it looked like ale, had a hint of chocolate and cinnamon to its sent, but oddly enough just from the smell it you could tell it contained no alcohol. "Close, but wrong, your penalty is you get to taste test this new brew of mine. Its a non alcoholic ale with chocolate and cinnamon. I like it but i need a less biased taster." He grinned "the correct answer is SFI, now can you guess the rank?"

Bertrand smelled it with a face of distaste and then took a small sip. he rolled it around his mouth and then took a bigger pull. He twisted his face as he considered, both the drink and the man.

"It shouldn't be served chilled," he said eventually. "It is more in line with a mead or heated spice wine. Nice blend but a bit sweet for me with the chocolate; not very Betazoid of me, I know. Then again, I'll drink almost anything with cinnamon in it."

"As for rank," he leaned back. "You are old, though you hide it well. I'd say fifties, making you one of the few people on this ship older than me, and old enough to remember the federation before the damn Borg and Dominion. You are still experimenting with drinks, and have a passion for the layout of this place being just right. That says to me that you are coming to this as a late in life change, but too late for a midlife crisis. I suspect you reached a rank where you were no longer doing what you were passionate about in SFI and had enough clout to choose whatever option B you wanted. That puts you at Captain at the very least."

Bertrand was watching the mans face and listening to the random thoughts that flicked through his head as he talked. Then he suddenly smiled.

"You are shielding your thoughts with the Kapari defence!" He crowed. "Nicely done; don't want to give anything away. But that means you would have joined SFI in 2350's. Allow an average of 7 years per rank, puts you well and truly over the Captain rank. Also explains why this Smith character thought you would be a good addition to an away team."

"Commodore, I retired at Commodore, and as for the Kapari defense I am not actually using it right now; that's how my mind normally is. Threw my instructors for a loop during the first days of training. This is what it is like when I am doing it." The random images suddenly become just static and white noise, deafening white noise, it almost hurts, and then back to random.

"OW, yes, alright, you made your point!" Bertrand grimaced.

"I'm always amazed that I actually get things done some days, but apparently I am either hyper focused or all over the place, no in between." Jack walked in the back and came back out with a nice seared piece of Salmon with a light lemon sauce. "High in protein, low in bad fats" hands him the plate and a fork.

Bertrand tucked into the food quickly. "I think I am going to be coming here more often," he managed with his mouth full. "Nice to talk to someone who isn't a kid. This place feel right too."

He gulped down the meal with the practiced speed of a security guard grabbing food in a gap in his duty, "I won't tell anyone your past rank, etc." He said standing and wiping his face, "but if you are picked for the away team I expect you to be forthcoming with anything that can help the team."

He nods "I am too old too put secrets over lives. You have my word"