Comfort and Food

Posted on Mon Oct 2nd, 2023 @ 1:18pm by Ensign Noah Balsam & Lieutenant JG Irynya

Mission: Stardust and Sin
Location: Junior Officers' Quarters; Elsewhere
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 2100

[Day One]
[The Night Before Arrival at the Twinfire]
[Junior Officers' Quarters]

Clad in Spiderman pajama bottoms and a navy SOJO tanktop, lanky Noah Balsam walked toward the small coffee table and couch setup of the four-person junior officers' quarters. In his arms he carried a stack of three things- a hot plate, a metal bowl full of something, and a series of pale white sticks. With a quick head flick- done out of muscle memory to dislodge his long hair- he remembered he no longer had it. Noah Balsam had had a haircut.

He sidled down, lowering onto the couch. The hot plate clattered with the bowl above. The bowl shifted, slipping to a diagonal and a couple of puffy, rounded cubers toppled out. Noah grabbed one and popped it in his mouth. It was powdery on the surface but still gooey inside. And sweet. He hadn't had them in a long time. The Marshmallow.

Stooping forward toward his food, he next pulled a fried cheese stick from it's plate, dunked it in marinara sauce and pushed it into his mouth. His brows popped. He was pleased- it was "Debbie's recipe" for the beer battered, slightly smooth ones instead of the crunchy ones that were the replicator standard.

"Index um. Access Noah's music. Something uh..." He winced an eye. "Uh, Ha-happy?" Index, who appeared in the corner, blinked and an immersive tune began to fill Noah's space. It happened to be Bruce Springsteen's, "Dancing in the Dark.". Noah rictused a grin, privately, at a memory. He was about twelve. he was in recovery and his older brother Simon told him that that song was about having sex in the dark. At the memory, Noah wrinkled his nose. He was about to tell the computer to skip when the doors to to the outside world whooshed open.

Noah straightened on reflex: it could have been Sheldon or Irynya and he would have been happy. He was concerned it was, "that other one."

As the doors to the quarters that Iry shared with Sheldon, Noah, and Margarar parted she was met with a peppy sort of sound, steady drum beat and a slightly raspy voice who, to her ears, seemed to be half yelling and half singing. Stepping inside her head swiveled finding Noah perched on the couch and a warm smile spread across her features.

"Your hair!" she exclaimed with gleeful surprise, making her way over to her friend, hopping from one step to another, unable to help picking up the enthusiasm of the song as she crossed the room.

One tan hand reached out as she plopped down next to him, gently lifting one of the much shorter locks to examine it before returning it to its' place. "It looks good."

Noah was beaming his too-wide and introverted smile. He blinked with trust as Irynya came close enough to touch him- something he was fairly used to her doing by now. Enceladans had a different concept of personal space that he'd have to shift around to accommodate a different Starfleet mentality. "I-I thought it was time," Noah admitted. "If I'm going to be an Ensign. You know." He squinted one eye good naturedly. "Which feels weird. Really weird."

"Going to be?" Irynya asked playfully, reminding him that he was, in fact, already an Ensign.

"How-how was your shift?" He asked with a tilt of his head. "Are you hungry? I can share."

Seeming to notice the food for the first time, Irynya surveyed the equipment and bowls, curiosity lighting her features. "I mean... if you want company..." she twisted her head to look at Noah. His invitations were always genuine, but she also knew how much he valued time to himself.

Noah blinked, paused, and he grinned. "Well I-I mean, you're sitting already. So. You should."

"Shift was fine. We haven't found Kaldri yet, so we're still sort of," she considered her words for a moment, "shooting in the dark." Turning her head back to the food, she added, "What are you making?"

As Irynya had explained her shift's breakdown- and the disheartening lack of data on the part of the commbadge despite the time put into it- Noah had taken up what looked like a small dome with something packed into a concave hollow in it. It was some kind of mushroom. he popped it in his mouth and then immediately offered out the tray to the Risian. "It-it's an appetizer for dinner day. But um." he swiped at his long nose, "I'm going to toast uh, marshmallows. Later. If you want to, too."

She looked at him blankly as if the universal translator had just broken and he had said something incomprehensible. "Toast marshmallows?" she repeated back to him before snagging one of the mushrooms from the tray and examining it. Curiously, she brought it to her nose to sniff and then, grinning, popped the whole thing in her mouth. An appreciative noise escaped her as she chewed, the spongy savory bundle seemed to coat her mouth in the flavor, surprisingly complex considering Noah had referred to it as an appetizer.

Noah's eyes squinted and his nose furrowed, "Uhh yeahhh. They're uh. Cuh-camping food. Human food. B-basically its a cube of sticky sugar," and he fished into the bowl for one. What came out was a cylindrical square that looked dusted in a powdery substance. "And you use fire to caramelize... ummmm..." He guffawed, "Or-or in my weirdo case, burn them. And you eat them hot."

The Risian's expression lit with understanding. "I think I saw people doing this when we went camping," she commented as the memories of their camping shoreleave surfaced in her brain. She reached for the white powdery object that Noah had produced, taking it and finding it, too, was spongy to touch. "Hot caramelized sugar..." she summarized. "I'm in."

For a moment she seemed unsure if she should return the marshmallow to the bowl or not, but in the end decided to try it raw, assuming Noah would stop her if that wasn't safe. The white cylinder was, at first, dry on her tongue, but that quickly changed as the sugar melted and she chewed, teeth biting easily through the spongy sticky treat. Her eyes glinted with appreciation and then widened.

"Oh, hang on!" She hopped up from her seat and made her way to the replicator, murmuring a few quick instructions before a small tray of items materialized in front of her. Retrieving it she returned to her spot, setting her own tray next to Noah's food. "Umm... some Risian appetizers to go with," she said almost self conscious.

She pointed to a bowl that held a thick bright green sauce, almost pudding-like in its consistency. "This," she said, "is humrarii. It's a sort of, spicy sweet sauce that we use. The closest human food I've ever encountered is chocolate with chilis in it. It's for dipping things in."

Noah's interest seemed immediately piqued. "Like wha-what do you dip in it?" He asked with a sort of rapt curiosity. It was so green. It reminded him almost of a sauce made of lime. "Tha-that's not Lieutenant Timmoz's," he grinned wide and rubbed his neck, "Uhh b-baby donation is it? For some reason that's green in my head too." He breathed out and chuckled, "I mean, not that I even think abou-about it in any way." he blinked. "I really don't. It's just... so green."

For a moment Iry's head was awash with possible replies--some retorts, others ignoring the comment about Timmoz, and still others offering her own knowledge on the subject. In the end she settled on what felt most natural, though the clamor in her head never registered on her features. Instead, she inclined her head, eyebrows popping suggestively as if to indicate that she didn't believe the younger man for a moment, but was willing to let it go. "It's actually black, and much thinner than the humrarii." When that comment earned her a look she added, "I don't know that from experience. Marti had a short..." she paused to select the word she wanted, "dalliance with an Orion and she filled me in."

She shrugged then, turning her attention back to the tray and to the three small dishes next to the slightly larger dish of thick green sauce. "This," she began, pointing to a bowl holding a pile of long cylindrical sticks that vaguely resembled pretzel rods, is engbu. It's the stem of a flowering plant that we harvest, dry, and then toss in a sweet spice. The effect is sort of like cinnamon."

Noah was still slow-blinking on Irynya's knowledge of Orion... anatomical features. "That's different," he mumbled, his eyes aiming toward the lovely Risian food in front of him. A slow creep of a guffaw moved, surreptitious at first, that Noah gave no explanation for. "Engbu... ok..." Noah said, nodding at the first of the new added dishes.

The second and third bowls she pointed to in quick succession. "That is kumroi and that is arbura. Kumroi is a slightly tart fruit that gives you a burst of sweetness in the aftertaste when you chew it and arbura..." here she snagged one of the square items, a dusting of something white immediately coating her fingers, "is a pastry," she paused, seemingly considering before adding, "or a cookie. Or maybe both?" And then she popped the tiny square into her mouth, chewing and then rolling her eyes with appreciation. "That's the one I thought of first when I tried the..." she gestured at his plate of puffy white cloudlike cylinders, reaching for the word as she did, "marshmallows."

"Kumroi sounds like sour candies... there's some cultures on Earth," and he winced an eye, "And-and on Enceladus... ick... that make them. Have you ever had our licorice? It descends from Sweden. My Mom loves them. It's a-a Catullan thing. I can't stand them." Noah swayed at the waist just enough to bring himself close to the Arbura. He sampled one, rubbing fingers together to shake loose the crispy crumbs and white powder. It had a wholly alien flavor to Noah's palette. Not unpleasant, but enough for him to narrow his eyes and try to come up with some kind of Human analog.

He failed.

As Noah chewed the pastry Irynya snagged one of the kumroi and popped it into her mouth, chewing quickly. She half swallowed before answering his question. "I have not had licorice, no..." She, too, was searching for a shared taste to explain the kumroi when Noah finished his arbura.

"Marshmallows are gooier," he finally said. "Here." He reached for a marshmallow and intentionally impale it on some kind of stick. "So some, uh, people," Noah said, fidgeting with the burner. "Like to roll the marshmallow so its even toasted. And-and then there's some people that just the little fucker on fire." Noah grinned almost with a little tail shimmy, "I'm one of those." Noah held it before the flames and waited until goo turned golden, the brown and then lit on fire. Only then did he bring it to his mouth and blew it out. Then he held it out for Irynya.

It was black. Or some of it was. And white where it wasn't. And browned in some spots? She'd seen the flame lick it's way up the puff of gooey sweetness and practically engulf it and now she looked from it to Noah and back, unsure of how to proceed. Wouldn't it be too hot to touch? She frowned slightly, feeling like this should be obvious to her and finally giving in and gingerly plucking it off of the stick. It was good she had too, because the marshmallow had begun to sag and practically plopped into the grasp of her fingers. It was warm, but surprisingly not so hot she couldn't handle it even though it had just been aflame. "Do I... eat it all at once or... bite it... or...?" She asked as she held the sticky warm gooeyness carefully between her fingers, inspecting it with open curiosity.

"Just..." Noah had begun but Irynya had had other ideas. "Oh, okay. That's OK too. You-you can do it that way too." Noah said with a frumple to his too-wide mouth. It wasn't dismay- just the frustration that perhaps he should've demonstrated first. His nose wrinkled. "I-I just bite it off the stick." He began to thread another onto the stick.

Iry's expression shifted quickly from confusion, to understanding, and straight on past anything else to outright amusement when Noah's aquiline nose wrinkled as he explained that she could have taken the stick itself rather than the hot sugary bundle. "You have the best nose wrinkle," she commented offhand with a chuckle, completely diverging from the topic before popping the entire bundle into her mouth wholesale. Popping was, perhaps, not an entirely accurate description. She'd held onto the marshmallow longer than was expressly a good idea and it had begun to affix to her fingers such that she had to tilt her head back and rub thumb and middle digit against each other to get the thing to finally let go--at which point it plopped unceremoniously onto her tongue.

The youth blushed. "Well, it-it's easy with a nose this big." His eyebrows rose, he sighed and started to hover the next marshmallow over the fire, "That's why they called me Eagle in the Academy." Noah watched her pop it into her mouth, his own snack beginning to brown- and then blacken. It poofed into fire as Iry chewed and Noah blew his out.

Hand held out to the side in a sort of this is too sticky to touch anything pincer, Iry's eyes widened as the flavor of the treat hit her. It was bitter at first, the blackened exterior well past caramelization of the sugar. But the gooey melty sweetness of the center, quickly overtook the bitterness, coating her mouth. Appreciatively, the Risian rolled her eyes and made a noise that could have been mistaken for activities other than eating snacks with a friend. "Delicious," she mumbled around the mouthful.

"I'm glad you like it. They're sort of... I-I guess the staple camping food. On Earth." he shrugged, "Camping on Enceladus is a little more complex but... I had them on a school trip once to Titan." His eye winced, "Which was a little strange. Marshmallows mixed with just enough trace ethane even from the atmo-scrubbers..." He shrugged again. He popped his into his mouth, his teeth baring to scrape the goo off the stick. "Ow. Little hot," he said round his treat. He shielded his mouth, "But not in a bad way."

Having consumed the marshmallow, Irynya set about removing the remnants from her fingers. She debated getting up and cleaning her hand off in the bathroom, but there was enough gooey tastiness left and she was comfortable. Instead she popped her thumb into her mouth, using her teeth and tongue in turn to get the worst of the left over marshamallow free before pulling her thumb free of her lips with a sort of soft pop. Her index finger followed suit and was pulled free as well.

"Sorry yeah, it is messy." Noah apologized. He watched, having been there, at having to nibble at one's own fingers to get off marshmallow.

An offhand comment suggesting she could show Noah a thing or two about the pleasures of heat ran through her brain and was quickly shunted to the side, given away only by a small quirk of her lips as if he'd said something funny. Instead she reached for another stick and pressed it through the bottom of another marshmallow until it was clear the white puff would be going nowhere. She had to shift closer to reach the burner, thigh brushing against Noah's knee, proximity giving her pause long enough to shift hands so she didn't accidentally turn and smack him with a flaming sugar bomb. "Like this?" she asked, once she was settled over the flame.

Noah didn't pull away. It was trained behavior- Enceladans liked their personal space because it was at such a premium on his tiny world. But Irynya had proven to be harmless and disarming. "Yep. Yep, like that. You have to-to decide if you like it toasted, or crispy." He said. "The only before was kind of crispy. Like I-I said, I'm a weird one."

Noah meanwhile went on to sample again the dishes Irynya had provided. They seemed to love sugar. Naturally sweet things, anyway. And so while Noah scooped some of the greenish goo- and shook off the image of black, inky Orion semen as something he didn't want to think about with food- he ate it. But he wished he'd cleansed his palette with a savory or a drink before he had. "S'good," he pointed at the dish. "Chocolatey but sort of not."

Hazel eyes darted to the green bowl Noah had indicated then back to the marshmallow. With careful fingers Irynya ad been turning the confection as if it were on a spit, applying heat to all sides as evenly as she could. It had just begun to look sun-kissed, tanned in a way that reminded her of days spent at the beach in Delphi. She pulled it back, gingerly poking the marshmallow with a finger before deeming it soft enough. "I'm glad you like it," she said and the genuine warmth of the expression that went with that comment gave away how much she meant it.

"Mmmhmm," Noah acknowledged with a bob of his head, going in for a second scoop.

Using the stick like a utensil she nudged the now toasted marshmallow into the bowl of green, twisting it until the end was coated in humrarii. The effect of the warm marshmallow on the thick spread was almost immediate, making it seem to melt, dripping down the side of the marshmallow before Irynya could get the stick to her mouth and pull it free.

The sweetness of the marshmallow was a contrast to the humrarii. Where the marshmallow was all sugar with the warm caramelization from the flame, the green sauce did, indeed, resemble a dark chocolate with a biting spice to its aftertaste. She chewed thoughtfully and then stood, stepping quickly to the replicator before returning with one more bowl.

This last addition was a bifurcated, an unremarkable looking wafer on one side while something that resembled powdered sugar in its makeup filled the other. "Needs something to balance it out," she commented at Noah's questioning look. "These are flat crusts, and this is umi." She indicated the wafers and the white dusty element in turn. "They're a sort of savory combo. You dip the end of your flat crust into the umi so you get as much or as little of it as you want. It... it's kind of like salt. But not."

"Umi," Noah repeated. "Not like, sushi Umi. But something else," he added. It looked like salt. But it didn't quite have the texture of salt crystals that Noah was used to. "Duh-does Risa have a uh, a major culinary history? It seems like they do." He added. He dipped the piece of bifurcated crust into the Umi and tasted it. This time his nose wrinkled. It was beyond a Human palette as unsophisticated as a boy who liked, in essence, pub food. "That one's... um, different. I can't think of anything like it."

But he sat back and smiled. "I like sh-sharing weird foods with you. We did it with the pizza. And the saag. I guess it's my turn." He looked at the replicator. "Should we-we get weird? We could try Ferengi food. Or Klingon food."

She found herself licking her fingers again. This really was turning to be both a tasty and messy endeavor. For a brief moment a thought about tongues and fingers ran through her head and, like the comment of before, was shunted aside. As with Noah, some of her filtering was learned behavior within their friendship. With her closest friends the lines were often blurry. Marteli, in particular, blurred the lines heavily between friend and... something else. But after the somewhat emotionally explosive experience of her last relationship, she was hesitant to let every thought or inclination out.

"Risa has a tradition of embracing things that offer pleasurable experiences. Food is one of the most common ways to bridge gaps and can be used to enhance and build experiences in... a lot of ways." She left that hang a moment, not going into more detail, but hoping Noah got the idea. Food was, as much about the sumptuous taste and consumption experience as it was a tool for other more sensual things in Risian culture.

Noah nodded. "I-I think there's a lot of cultures that do that. Except... well... there's a few. I heard there's a species out there that treat eating like um, sex. It's all super-intimate... you don't just do it in public." Then he added, "I-I imagine Risians have turned food as pleasure into an art."

A quick press of her lips against each other and a sound of appreciative agreement gave support to Noah's comment. This time she didn't turn away from the obvious thought. "I hope you get the chance to experience it someday."

His shift to the thought of sharing food with her had made her feel warm and cozy in a way that was unique to Noah. It was something she thought he had a gift with--making people feel welcome and seen. "And I like sharing weird foods with you too," she said, and there was something weighty in her tone, an undercurrent of her appreciation for their friendship beyond the prospect of new flavors. And then the moment passed and she was grinning.

"Ferengi and Klingon as appetizers maybe... but we could probably get weirder. Hmm.... Bolian? Xindi?" She was warming to the topic, grin broadening the more she considered. "You pick. What's something you've always wanted to try?"

Noah's nose crunched, "I know Bolian food has a lot of flavor. But I'm comfortable. I don't want to have to go to Sickbay for the anti-toxin." He decided. His vision strayed. He swept toward the wall at one of the ordinary and sort of blandly interesting pictures that Starfleet put in some quarters. "We-we really should make this room more. Our. You, Shelly, me... even Margarar." He softly cleared his throat.

"OK, I was dared to try Sluggo-Cola last year and I-I backed out. How about we try Sluggo-Cola?" He proffered. The boy stood, swaying and coltish and strode his stick insect body to the replicator. "One bottle or two?" He asked, looking back at his friend.

Iry inspected the blandness of the walls herself, considering and wondering, for a moment, what kind of eclectic decorative tastes would come to bear if the three... no, he was right... four of them attempted to meld their styles in the common area. "What was the dare?" she asked. "I mean, specifically. Drink a whole bottle or just taste it?" She raised her eyebrows in a question before quickly adding. "I think we should do whatever we need to so that you can say you did it."

"Chug the whole bottle," Noah said. "Just the smell is... odd. You think with something with the w-word cola attached, that it's sweet. But... the first smell is more like... fish broth. Bubbly fish broth." His eyes rounded and he shrugged, "Tha-that's as far as I got. But I-I mean... how many Ferengi... or Dopterians... drink it? Billions?"

"Two bottles then," Iry said decisively. If we have to chug it then... well..." Her eyes held Noah's a second before her expression shifted into a sort of apologetic half grimace. "Ferengi also get off from having their ears rubbed... let's not think too hard about how many or few of them do this."

Pushing off the couch she moved to stand on the opposite side of the replicator. "Do it," she said.

"Computer," Noah stated, "Two bottles of Sluggo-Cola." He looked back at Irynya, "S-supposedly its better in bottles."

The computer chimed up in its pleasant feminine monotone, "Ten credits will be deducted from your credit account for this replication, charged by the Sluggo-Cola Beverage and Snack Corporation of Ferenginar. Do you accept?"

"Sure," Noah said. He didn't image haggling with the computer was worthwhile and, as the two bottles of sickly green and brown swirled, bubbling drink. "I-I guess we could've gone with the free generic pattern but..." he picked up the bottles- and was surprised to find them just a little cooler than lukewarm- and walked back over to Irynya.

He offered one out to her. While he did, Noah stuck his own bottle under his beakish nose. "Yep," he coughed, "Yep uh... tha-that's the smell."

Making a face, Irynya accepted the bottle, the fishy smell of the liquid wafting from the bottle's open top. She eyed Noah with curiosity, watching as he reacted to the drink. "Let's get this over with them..." she commented with a wry sort of get it done smile. "Together?"

"Agreed. In three t-" Noah said, but Irynya was in motion.

Not giving herself the chance to hesitate Irynya brought the bottle to her lips, tipping it back, and then tilting her head back to get the flow of the fishy green brown drink as fast as she could. The temperature of the drink, surprisingly enough, was the first thing that hit the Risian, making her nearly gag at the weird not quite room temperature of the beverage. It reminded her of coffee that had been left sit on a table and then remembered too late for it to really be considered warm anymore -- except the Sluggo-Cola tasted nothing at all like coffee. The scent of the drink was not nearly so strong as it's taste, an almost intense aquatic taste and scent overwhelmed her tastebuds, coating them in the thickness of the liquid only to have the bubbles effervesce upon hitting the back of her throat, making her nose burn as she swallowed.

For one dangerous moment, about two thirds of the way through the bottle, she was sure she would gag. Or sneeze. Or something that would return the liquid to the outside of her body. But then she squinched her eyes tight, pinched her nose, and downed the rest, finally bringing the bottle down, sputtering as she did. "Ohmywordthat'sgross," she stammered out.

Noah had tilted his own bottle back, eyes squinted in anticipation of this almost hurting. The thick liquid, salty, at first reminded him of a salty lassi- or some other oddly briny liquid. And he kept swallowing, hoping if he did so, his tongue would skip the flavor. It didn't. The textural freak-out of viscosity met the cheap-champagne feel of large bubbles. And each bubble seemed to come with flavor.

Briny- Noah could handle briny. It sort of umami, seaweedy salty ocean. Like miso. But then came the flavor of... earth. Noah's brain latched on to the word, "slug" and simply would not let go. He sputtered. He sputtered again. And then he lost- he gagged. And sluggo-cola gleeked out of the corners of his mouth around the bottle. It sent him coughing and sputtering into the bathroom, that lanky and lean body rushing the door with hands cupped over his mouth.

It took Irynya only a moment to realize she'd stammered out her reaction to Noah's retreating back and the grossness of the liquid was set aside, or at least pushed to the background--it couldn't quite be ignored fully. The doors of the bathroom snicked shut as she placed her bottle onto the replicator, not bothering to recycle it yet, and then hurried into the bathroom after him.

"Noah?" she asked, as the doors slipped open again at her approach. "Are you ok?"

Noah was retching around a soft guffaw. He was leaning over one of the sinks, sputtering. He straightened, his face contorted with both disgust but also a note of amusement. "Oh-tha-that shit is nasty," he said, emphasizing nasty. He looked back at her. "i'm fine. I'm n-not a Ferengi. And i-if that's what they like to eat, I'm kind of OK with it."

Amusement countered the worry in Irynya's eyes as she took in the leggy, long-armed length of Noah, meeting his gaze in the small mirror as he explained. "Same," she commented with a chuckle. "Whatever we try next cannot have any relation to... to..." she struggled for a moment to come up with a good descriptor, "Sweat marinated foot fungus."

Noah made a nauseous sound at Irynya's descriptor and he dipped his head again toward the sink. "How are you no horking your guts out?" He asked a moment later. He straightened and went for a towel. He wiped at his mouth, and then went for the small recessed panel in the wall. With a tap, its hologram disappeared to reveal a cabinet. Noah reached for a small rectangular box. Taking it he depressed a neon blue area. The device squealed and Noah tilted it toward his mouth. "W-want some?"

Horking... She nearly asked what that word meant, but then decided context was enough to explain. "I've always had a strong stomach," she commented with a self conscious shrug before rapidly amending, "but it doesn't mean my stomach isn't pissed off..." At the offer of the breath freshener Irynya cupped her hand in front of her mouth exhaling and then inhaling through her nose. This time she did gag, unable to help the reflex as the smell of her own breath brought back the viscosity of the drink. "Yes," she said with an intensity that her voice hadn't held a moment before. "Definitely." And she reached for the device copying Noah's motions and shooting the aerosol like minty liquid into her mouth. It stung a little, but she figured minty foot fungus was better than the alternative.

She swallowed around the taste and, after a moment, the overall aftertaste of the Sluggo Cola dulled. "Ok," she said, indicating her head with the door, "I want to try Denobulan Parsayian Tarts."

A lingering cough and Noah's smile- albeit slowly- returned. He wiped his mouth, "Just as long as it has n-nothing to do with anything I'd find in both a garden and the ocean." He swuinted. "Why-why did we even think we could try Ferengi cuisine?" He asked on his way out of the bathroom. He licked at the walls of his mouth, "I didn't know something could taste li-like mud, ocean and cabbage... that's. Uh. That's new."

"So," Noah plopped on the couch and breathed out. "What were they? Puh-paysian tarts? Denobulan, not Denebian, right?"

Irynya had followed Noah to the couch, but remained standing, ready for her turn to order the unusual food. Fixing Noah with an affectionate smile, Irynya repeated her planned item. "Denobulan Parsayian Tarts," she commented. "They're some kind of unusual fruit pastry. I've heard it's an acquired taste not dissimilar to..." She had to think, eyes tracking upward as she sorted through her head for the right word. "Darian? Drian? Durian?" She muttered. "Darian, I think. It's some kind of Earth fruit from the Asian continent." She watched to see if the word registered any kind of recognition from her friend, shrugging as she did. "It's like that, but with a sweet and sour after taste."

Noah's face stayed the slack of ignorance at the name of the fruit- one that had he known would have sent him scrambling back on the deal. "I-I don't know that one."

The replicator made quick work of her request, only once requesting she repeat herself to confirm which item she wanted. Apparently Parsayians were a common ingredient for a range of Denobulan pastries. It was only a moment longer, though, before she was retrieving a replicated tray with two small plates, each bearing a round pastry that steamed slightly. The warm smell of something resembling butter, though not quite, wafted from the tray with a tangy, almost citrusy scent. It wasn't unpleasant to the nose, but certainly foreign.

Irynya settled the tray on the table in front of them, dropping into the seat next to Noah close enough that her knee was brushing his as she leaned back from the tray. At a glance it looked like a fairly normal looking fruit tart. Chunks for brilliant pinkish gold fruit were suspended in a some sort of gelatinous syrup and dolloped into the middle of a small bowl-like pastry that looked as if it might flake upon breaking. A tiny ceramic bowl was also present holding a cream colored sauce, ready to be added to the tarts to the taster's preference.

"Well," Irynya commented, twisting slightly to examine Noah's profile before looking back at the tarts. Carefully she took his hand in hers squeezing quickly in a move of solidarity before releasing him. "Shall we?"

Noah gulped. "Uh. Sure... sure. OK. It sounds," his eyes rounded and he fumbled over his mouth with a grimace. It wasn't the smell, or the presentation. It was just the caution of trying alien foods. Noah leaned his body toward the dishes, studying them as if at any moment one might jump off the plate and go for the jugular. He poked one. He picked his up. His mouth opened- then closed and he blinked. "Ugh OK... count us down..."

Noah waited for the moment and buckled up for another night of fun with his roommate.

A Post By

Lieutenant JG Irynya
Assistant Chief Flight Controller

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist