Backpost: Trading Places

Posted on Sat Nov 8th, 2025 @ 6:01pm by Lieutenant Irynya & Ensign Tamblem Dravor

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Debbie's Diner
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Debbie's Diner, 0730]
[Three days after: Late Night Quiet]

There was something about joining Starfleet that trained everyone to be an early riser. At least it trained them how to manage themselves so that they could be up and functional for a shift at a variety of hours.

Doesn't mean I have to like it. Irynya thought with the cynicism of a night owl who has been forced to live a morning bird's schedule. With bleary eyes and only just adjusted uniform she walked through the door to Debbie's intent on a latte and some kind of yogurt dish. It had only been 3 days since she'd moved into her new quarters and she knew she could probably just get these things using the replicator, but she hadn't slept well again and had a suspicion that she wouldn't be able to buck the impulse to avoid people if she didn't get herself out the door and mingle with them.

Dravor was already settled into one of the corner booths, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him and what looked like the remnants of a protein-heavy breakfast on his plate. Unlike Irynya, he looked refreshed and alert, the kind of person who actually thrived on early morning shifts rather than merely enduring them. His uniform was crisp, his dark hair neatly styled, and he had the relaxed confidence of someone who'd been up for a while and was fully functional.

He spotted her the moment she walked through the door, noting the slightly rumpled uniform and the telltale signs of another rough night. A cocky grin spread across his face as he raised his coffee mug in a casual salute. "Well, well," he called out, his voice carrying easily across the diner with that trademark swagger, "look what the morning shift dragged in. You look about as thrilled to be vertical as a Vulcan at a comedy show."

Immediately zeroing in on Dravor's voice the Risian rolled her eyes in amusement, snorting a laugh at his description before she made a beeline for his table.

He gestured to the empty seat across from him with a tilt of his head, the motion smooth and inviting. "Come on, sunshine. The coffee's actually decent this morning, and I promise I won't be aggressively cheerful at you until you've had at least half a cup." His tone carried that easy arrogance that somehow managed to be endearing rather than obnoxious, the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he brought to the table and wasn't shy about it.

"Besides," he added, leaning back in the booth with a smirk, "I was just sitting here thinking how quiet it is without Noah explaining the historical significance of breakfast foods or Shelly having a crisis about whether his eggs are the right shade of yellow. Figured you might be missing the chaos as much as I am."

With a grunt of acquiescence Irynya slid into the opposing seat. The bitter darkness of the coffee in Dravor's cup pricked at her nostrils and she couldn't help a deep inhale and a sigh of appreciation. The appreciation, though, was curdled with a feeling of homesickness that made about as much sense as as applying sunscreen in the middle of the night. She glanced at Dravor, noticing his smirk and offering him one of her own that was, perhaps, a bit weak.

"Have you gotten the explanation for why Noah always has chocolate milk and an orange yet?" she asked, curious just have familial they had all been in the few days she'd been gone.

Before Dravor even had a chance to touch that one a server appeared, seemingly out of thin air, eyes fixed pointedly on Irynya. "What can I getcha?" he asked with the amiable air of someone who had been waiting tables for a while. Debbie did train her folks well.

"Umm, Vanilla latte, extra espresso, and a bowl of yogurt with Risian fruit please." The breakfast had been on her mind since she woke up. Almost as if she were feeding the unreasonable homesick feeling with food from her actual home.

"Vanilla latte, extra shot, yogurt and Risian fruit. Got it," the server quipped back fixing another broad smile on her before he turned and made for the kitchen.

"How's my old bed treating you?" she asked once he was gone and she'd turned her attention back to the Trill across from her.

Dravor's smirk widened at her question about Noah's breakfast habits, and he shook his head with a low chuckle. "Can't say I've gotten the full dissertation on that one yet," he admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. "Though knowing Noah, I'm sure there's some perfectly logical explanation involving nutritional synergy or ancient Earth customs that I'm missing out on."

Iry's smile, more nostalgic than her companion's, widened as well. She did know the answer, but opted not to offer it in the moment. She was sure it would be a fun conversation at some point.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, that cocky grin never wavering. "What I have gotten is the daily commentary on everything else - why the replicator coffee is molecularly inferior to the stuff here, the proper temperature for optimal cereal consumption... Kid's got more food theories than a Vulcan nutritionist."

When she asked about the bed, his expression shifted to something more knowing, a hint of that bad boy charm bleeding through. "Your old bed's treating me just fine, thanks for asking." He paused, letting his eyes dance with mischief. "Roomy, comfortable... maybe a little too quiet for my taste, but I'm managing."

The implication hung in the air - that he was sleeping alone when that hadn't exactly been the plan. He took another sip of coffee, studying her over the rim of his mug. "Funny thing, though, turns out our boy Shelly gets a case of the nerves when it comes to actual cohabitation. Who knew?"

This elicited a snort of of amusement from the Risian who merely raised her eyebrows knowingly.

His tone was casual, but there was an edge of cocky confidence underneath, like he wasn't particularly bothered by the setback. If anything, he seemed amused by the whole situation. "Course, can't say I blame him. I am pretty irresistible." The grin that followed was pure Dravor, arrogant and charming in equal measure.

"I meant the actual bed," Irynya quipped back deadpan. "Not that I think Shelly wouldn't..." She let the thought trail off meaningfully. She'd been the one who facilitated their first... connection... back on Risa and had no illusions about what that encounter had entailed even if she wasn't privy to the details themselves.

As she spoke the server seemed to practically materialize out of nowhere, sliding a white porcelain bowl with brilliant sunset colored fruits over top of a pink yogurt and a tall mug in front of her. She nodded her appreciation and made for the latte, sipping and then, as the warm sweet and bitter liquid slid down her throat, sighed in appreciation. She glanced at Dravor over the rim of her mug and then set it down. "Give him time," she said. "It's one thing to enjoy some mutual toe curling" -- the phrase was one she'd heard Shelly use in the past -- "and another thing entirely to exist together in the same space whether you smell like a matter reclamation unit before it gets cleaned or like the most irresistible version of yourself."

This, she was sure, was something Dravor already knew, but she said it anyway. She hadn't had enough opportunity to connect with Sheldon since her move and she dearly missed the high nasally voice and pointed commentary of her friend. More, though, she missed the easy companionship of her former roommate. For all of his predilections he was as familiar to her now as a brother.

She took another quick sip of her drink and then dipped a spoon into the yogurt, balancing the utensil on the side of her bowl before she added, "Of course, if it was a booty call you were after, you could have accomplished that without swapping quarters." This last she delivered with a knowing sort of tone--her own implications as clear as those Dravor had offered a few moments earlier. Filling his bed had not been his only goal in the change.

Dravor's smirk shifted into something closer to a genuine grin, caught between amusement and being called out so directly. He leaned back in the booth, one arm draped casually along the back of the seat in that effortlessly confident way of his.

"Well, yeah, the actual bed's fine too," he said with a mock-serious nod, playing along with her deadpan delivery. "Though I gotta say, those unicorn slippers he had? Really tied the room together. Place feels empty without them."

He took another sip of his coffee, his expression sobering just slightly - not quite vulnerable, but honest in that way he only really managed with people he trusted. "And you're not wrong," he admitted, his tone losing some of its cocky edge. "About the booty call thing. If that's all I wanted..." He shrugged, the gesture deliberately casual even as his eyes held hers with unexpected sincerity. "Let's just say I know how to work a door chime."

The admission hung there for a moment before he deflected with that trademark swagger, gesturing with his mug. "Besides, someone's gotta make sure Noah doesn't accidentally replicate himself into a food coma explaining the historical significance of toast, and Shelly doesn't stress himself into oblivion over... whatever engineers stress about."

His grin turned slightly self-deprecating. "Figured I might as well be useful while I wait for our boy to stop panicking about cohabitation."

As she tugged her spoon back through her lips in an deliberate bid to get every bit of yogurt and fruit from the device, Irynya raised her eyebrows at her companion. She was most familiar with Dravor's confidence. He made her feel comfortable in a way that arises from recognizing bits of one's self in another person. He was attractive. And he knew it. He wanted to pursue something with Sheldon. And he knew it. He was confident. She liked that about him.

But she also found, as they spoke, that she liked being let into his more personal thinking. "How can I help with that?" She asked, cutting past the self-deprecation and bravado to get to the core of the Trill officer's openness.

"I mean, I don't have ready access to Shelly like I did before." Her expression turned thoughtful, and maybe a bit regretful, as she worked through the thought out loud. "But I really want him... and you... to be happy." She meant that with a sincerity that she could only hope her tone conveyed.

Her thoughts went back to the last real opportunity she'd had to talk with Sheldon by herself. The blanket fort she'd set up in their temporary bunks in the enlisted crew section had been for her to tell him about her promotion. But they'd talked about Dravor moving in too. In direct contrast to Dravor's confidence, Sheldon was a bundle of uncertainty. Not about the Trill man he was clearly attracted to--but about himself. She knew that wasn't hers to fix, but if she could facilitate... encourage...

A quick dip of her spoon back into her bowl captured more of the fruit-yogurt mixture. With a fluid motion she popped the spoon into her mouth and once again pulled it free, setting the spoon the bowl and chewing her mouthful so that Dravor could have a moment to consider his reply.

Dravor was quiet for a moment, his usual cocky expression softening into something more thoughtful. He turned his coffee mug in his hands, studying it like it might hold answers.

"Honestly?" he said finally, looking back up at her. "I'm not entirely sure." The admission seemed to cost him something, vulnerability not being his usual mode. "I know I come on strong. It's kind of my thing." He gestured vaguely at himself with a self-aware smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But with Shelly..."

He paused, seeming to consider his words carefully. "I don't want to push too hard and spook him. But I also don't want to back off so much that he thinks I'm not interested." His jaw worked for a moment before he added, quieter, "Because I am. Interested, I mean. More than I probably should be for someone who gets nervous about sharing a room."

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. "You know him better than anyone. What's he actually worried about? Is it me specifically, or just... the whole concept?" There was genuine uncertainty in the question, like he couldn't quite figure out what Sheldon needed from him. "Because if it's me," he said with a hint of his usual swagger returning, "I can work with that. But if it's the other thing..." He shrugged, leaving the thought unfinished.

It was in Irynya to get up and hug the Trill sitting across from her, but she refrained--for now at least. She wasn't sure that she and Dravor had ever had a conversation quite this personal and while she was glad for it, she was also respectful of what it said about them both and their connection to Sheldon. Iry found herself feeling just the littlest bit giddy about the whole thing knowing just how much Dravor cared for her friend.

"It's neither," she answered after giving his question a moment's consideration and downing a few more swallows of latte. "It's... I'm sure by now you know how hard Sheldon is on himself?" She watched Dravor for clues to see if she'd hit on something surprising even though she was certain she hadn't.

"He once described you to me as a Christmas present that he can't open for a long time and that might be given to someone else because he wasn't good enough. Or something very like that. I don't know much about Christmas. I suspect Shelly and Noah would do a better job explaining it. But... I think he feels like he needs to earn you or... or deserve you or something. Like maybe he's not good enough. I don't know exactly what part of himself he isn't sure about, but..."

She paused for another coffee sip before continuing, "I know he's had some ugly past experiences where he thought a person cared and then... well... nothing. The present.. you know... went to someone else." One tan hand went to the bridge of her nose, pointer finger extended to rub along one side as she thought. "I think... just keep telling him he's worth it. Keep... doing things that show him you want to be there. Just... you're already doing it. The way he talks about you Tamblem..." She shook her head.

"I honestly think you're already on the right track."

Dravor was quiet for a long moment, really taking in what Irynya had said. His jaw worked slightly, processing the weight of it, the idea that Sheldon saw himself as somehow not enough. It hit different than he'd expected, settling somewhere uncomfortable in his chest. "A Christmas present he can't open," he repeated softly, almost to himself. The corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn't quite his usual smirk, more thoughtful, maybe a little sad. "That's... very Shelly."

He took a breath, then met Irynya's eyes directly. "Thanks. For telling me that. And for..." he gestured vaguely between them, encompassing the whole conversation, "this. All of it." He glanced at his chrono and grimaced slightly. "I've got a shift soon." He drained the last of his coffee and stood, then paused. "Seriously. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the Risian replied. She didn't flinch away from the eye contact or the sincerity of the moment. If anything she leaned into it. She missed her roommates. Missed the regularity of the comes and goings of the men she'd lived with for the last few months. But this kind of one on one interaction was precious to her too, and she was glad for it.

With a final nod that carried genuine appreciation, Dravor headed for the exit, his mind clearly still turning over everything they'd discussed.

She watched him go for just a moment before turning back to the remains of her breakfast hoping she'd given Dravor what he needed to help alleviate the reservations that Shelly still held. If nothing else the opportunity to do something that felt like connection had left her in a much better mood. With a smile she brought her latte to her lips once again, and drained it.

----

A post by:

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Flygirl

Ensign Tamblem Dravor
Security Officer and Aspiring Paramour