The Karim Files: Irynya (& Associate)

Posted on Thu Mar 5th, 2026 @ 4:40pm by Ensign Noah Balsam & Commander Karim & Lieutenant Irynya

Mission: Port of Call
Location: The Cidery, Antarian Eatery on Pathfinder Station
Timeline: Mission Day 19 at 1930

[The Cidery - Antarian Eatery, Pathfinder Station]
[MD 19, 1930 Hours]

The Cidery had come highly recommended by the front desk at the Regency Balancar. So much so that Irynya had wondered if the Ferengi owners had some kind of shared agreement with the restaurant for sending each other customers. The restaurant boasted a selection of authentic Antarian cuisine with cider, made not replicated, at the center of what they were known for. The Risian was thankful that their hosts had warned them that it was a more up scale dining establishment. She'd worn the one nice outfit she had brought along -- a flowing dress in a sunset orange tone. The shoulders of the sleeves were absent while the sleeves themselves billowed, ending just above her wrists. Her hair, typically in a ponytail, was down for the evening and she'd used the fresh paints that her parents had sent to reapply her ja'risia. It had felt good to dress up a bit.

"I don't remember the last time I ate at a restaurant where I had to be seated that wasn't, you know... Debbie's on a special occasion." Irynya picked up a utensil that resembled a fork and held it out for inspection. "Do you think they'll give us instructions for the utensils?" she asked the curly haired stick-bug of a man next to her.

"Umm... I'm not sure." Noah's nose wrinkled with a soft chuckle. "Didn't we eat something on that station when we were looking for Kaldri?" The engineer asked. He'd been walking around the Pathfinder Station version of the Promenade with someone who easily caught the eyes of passersby. She was, after all, a lovely person. Compared to her, Noah was a shy violet, dressed in a simple forest green shirt and a brown sweater that crisscrossed him and fastened on his side. And Noah had, over the last couple of days, begun to let something new happen. He was growing out some chin hair. So far, it was fairly... unimpressive.

Noah eyed the cutlery. "I-I wonder if this is a chopstick situation. And we can ask for... forks." His eyebrow rose while he held up a fork-like thing. It had tines... sort of. But instead of three there were six- two rows of three stacked. And they were weirdly pliable. But at least there was a spoon. Ah the spoon. It was nearly universal. "I guess... uh... we-we try." Noah smiled at Irynya, his cheeks creasing in to his thin dimples. "You look really nice tonight. Where uh... where did you get that?"

The peaks of Irynya's cheeks darkened slightly, blushing at the compliment while her eyes sparked with warmth that matched the delighted smile that spread across her face. "Thank you," she answered, appreciation colored with the surprise of being noticed openly, coloring the edges of her tone. "It's, umm... something I brought with me from home. I always really liked the way it flowed." She held out her arms, making the puffy forms of her sleeves billow slightly in a way that somehow still managed to show of her silhouette.

Her eyes did a quick north to south perusal of Noah's figure. He looked good too, but she suspected he was less comfortable being called out on it. Still, the way his dimples tucked into the corners of his mouth made something flip in the pit of her stomach. For a moment she tugged her bottom lip in between her teeth as if it might somehow settle the unmooring flipping sensation. "You look nice too," she pointed out. "That green works really well with your hair and your skin tone." It did, too.

"Oh." It was Noah's turn for the apple-knot of his cheeks to pink. "Um, yeah, th-thanks. It-it was... um...." He reached for water and gulped it, and set it down as Irynya continued. His dark eyes blinked at her, watchful, following her moves.

"This is new," she added a moment later, running the side of her pointer finger up and down along her chin to indicate the specs of dark hair that were just making themselves known.

As he pulled the water away and set it down, Noah smiled in to one of his creased cheek lines. "Oh um. Thanks. Uhhh..." He squinted an eye and looked up. "It its just an experiment. I'm not really sold on it. We'll see. Oh um. Didn't we have breakfast on Risa? Jeez... was that the last time?" His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "Wow... I think it was. I think we just had cover drinks in that Gravity Bar place... and then some lady wanted to buy me to impregnate me." He chuckled at that even as he shook his head.

"Oh my goodness. We did have breakfast on Risa. Or more correctly I crashed your breakfast. But yeah, that... that seems like a long time between... you know..." she gestured between them in a way that took in the table and surrounding restaurant as well, "this. It just... it feels..." A fresh flare of blush threatened to make itself known as the back of her neck prickled warm. "uh... like we've done this more..." she finished lamely. Her smile, shifted to something softer, reserved particularly for Noah. "And thank heavens I didn't get you pregnant--that entire mess was my fault. I don't imagine Moritana would have liked shared custody." She raised her eyebrows pointedly and pressed her lips together in amusement.

A little rueful but goodnaturedly, Noah grimaced. "I never did figure out how the babies were supposed to get in me." His nose wrinkled with a raise his his smile. "I'd kinda like to keep it a mystery too." Softly Noah cleared his throat and his nose wrinkled again. "So uh... what looks good to you?" With a gesture up and a twisted flourish at the table, the surface produced a holographic menu. He glanced at it with a tilt of his head.

Irynya's head followed the same tilt, reading. "The only thing I've ever heard of is the cider," she finally admitted. "I feel like I don't even have... like... context for any of this. Maybe we should ask what they recommend?"

Noah agreed. His head bobbed a couple of times. "Yeah. We need more than alcohol." He rubbernecked around the crowd to spot their host but he didn't see one. He lowered himself back in his seat and then, inexplicably, did something odd with his hands. It was like a snap and a hollow clap of hand over fist? "They might be in the back..." He muttered. "But um... yeah..." He fidgeted with the fork... thing... using the pad of his thumb to gently nudge into an exactly space parallel to the plate and the spoon. "Except for Debbie's we usually ate in the Mess... or uh... in quarters. Not exactly like this huh."

He met Irynya's gaze with his little grimace and felt himself hold his breath. "Uh is that... um... I think its called taffeta?" He asked about her dress material.

Iry had been holding his gaze the way a person might hold a breath -- careful and unwilling to look away, but aware of a building need for... something. Her eyes widened slightly at the question and she glanced down as if doing so might surface the answer. "Oh, um, no. It's a Risian material." As if somehow physical contact was necessary for clarity she stuck her arm out so he could touch the sleeve of her dress. She spun for a moment, trying to consider how to answer the question in a way that might present a corollary. "It's a natural fiber. Kind of like cotton on Earth, but with more structure to it. Umm... airy and flowy is kind of key on a planet where tropic climates are the norm."

Noah was about to speak, a grimace, the simple kind of making a minor mistake and owning up to it. His hand wrapped his glass of water when he sensed a new presence.

A new figure suddenly arrived at their table, a precise tone cutting across their conversation.

"Lieutenant Irynya."

It was Karim, a figure both seated officers had awareness of from his prior time on the Sojourner - not that he had ever truly interacted meaningfully with either of them. However, he was now in command-red, uniform immaculate, three solid pips at his collar.

He dragged across another chair without invitation and sat, placing his own glass upon the table as though it had always belonged there. The movement was economical, territorial. There was only a brief glance at Noah.

"Ensign."

Nothing further.

His eyes returned to Irynya, cool and assessing.

"I trust I am not interrupting anything of strategic importance." There was only a faint pause where he left no space for a response and he carried on. "I was curious how Sojourner's chief flight control officer occupies her time when not compensating for other people’s errors."

Noah did not know the name of this man. He'd only seen him once. It was just not on his radar. So he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise when he was addressed by his rank. It wasn't like he was wearing his pips. "Uhh..." His brows knitted together. "We're um... j-just having dinner..." Noah began with an apologetic grimace, uncomfortable. Who walked up and started a conversation like that? Or wait... was this a conversation?

"Hello are you ready to order?" An alien being approached. They surveyed Karim, a new presence. "Oh, are you a party of three now?"

Karim did not look at Noah or Irynya when he spoke.

"We are."

The response to the host was immediate, level, leaving no aperture for correction. His gaze shifted to the approaching alien with crisp efficiency.

"The house special. I assume it remains slow-braised vethar root with charred sea fowl and fermented orchard reduction. With the paired native cider." A fractional pause. "For the table."

He lifted his glass a few millimetres, then set it down again.

"You may proceed."

Irynya had watched the entire interaction from the moment the new arrival had addressed her by name and rank to the ordering of dinner, apparently for all three of them, with flabbergasted confusion. It took a not insignificant amount of effort to control her face, but for the most part she managed it, though Noah--who knew her far better than anyone else aboard--would undoubtedly have noticed the loss of warmth in her expression and the way her mouth tightened ever so slightly into a smiles.

"I believe I know who you are," she said once the server left to deliver the food order, "but since we've not been formally introduced perhaps you could do the honors? It seems you already know each of us." She included Noah deliberately in her comment. "And once you've done that maybe you could tell me why you felt it necessary to insert yourself into our shore leave with observations that surely could have waited until we were each back on duty rotations."

Karim did not answer her question.

Instead, his gaze drifted across the restaurant. The lantern light. The polished cutlery. The carefully curated illusion of civility. He noted the fabric of her dress again, the tentative experiment of hair upon Noah’s chin, the cider already breathing in glasses at neighbouring tables.

"It is remarkably easy to forget," he said at last, tone level, almost contemplative, "that we are seventy thousand light years from Federation space." His eyes returned to them. "One could mistake this for a promenade on Earth or Risa. Structured lighting. Managed temperature. Fermented fruit served in decorative stemware. Officers discussing fabric and facial hair." A slight tilt of his head. "In reality, we are dependent upon a singular station, an unstable wormhole, and the continued tolerance of powers who would happily dissect Starfleet methodology for their own advancement. Some avaricious. Some desperate. Both equally dangerous."

His gaze settled on Irynya.

"Normality is a narcotic. It encourages softness." A brief glance at Noah. "And distraction." He folded his hands lightly atop the table. "I find it useful to observe how quickly senior staff succumb to it."

Irynya's eyes narrowed, some of the carefully crafted exterior giving way to something with more steel in it. "With respect, Commander Karim," she said, her tone shifting cold as she made it clear that she knew exactly to whom she was speaking, "normality enables mental stability." Her gaze was sharp on the Vulcan, calculating now. "We serve the Federation in a perpetual state of unknown, surrounded by the alien. No race was made to exist in constant flux. It's the anchors we create, the people who matter to us, that enable us to persist through experiences others would find unsustainable."

She desperately wanted to look at Noah--to see what he thought of this exchange--but instead she kept her eyes pointedly fixed on Karim. "After all," she finished, "some of us are better suited to survival when we know someone cares if we return."

"So... uh... so you don't believe in our mission here?" Noah had taken longer to process than Irynya had and in truth the conversation had moved on. But perhaps this curveball from a lowly ensign might... derail the tension. Then he spoke and that plan was, possibly, out the window. "I-I think the Pathfinder mission is the best thing for the Alpha Quadrant. We're, um," he had to roll a hand to keep himself men tally going, "Talking to each other. And cooperating." Noah's brows perked, "We're sharing, uh, space. And that helps us learn about each other. I-I-I can't think of anything better for us. Perfect for survival um... knowing there's maybe a lot of people out there who'll come."

Noah fidgeted with the fabric of his pants under the table, a desperate hope to keep his nerves at bay. My ocean... its my ocean... he blinked. "Um. I-I can't help but notice, sir, that you didn't answer Lieutenant Irynya's first question..." His voice tried to go hard, but this guy was ranks and ranks above him. There was a quaver. "We're on shoreleave and... inviting yourself in is um... is um." He tried to look at Karim but his eyes dropped. His brows knit. "It's... not... very cool..."

Noah's interjection drew Irynya's gaze despite her best attempts not to look at him. She let herself scan his face once and then, as he spoke, dropped her eyes to the table top. A small quirk to one side of her mouth gave away her appreciation for what he was saying. Quietly she slid one foot towards him underneath the table, careful not to let the move change her posture until the toe of her shoe pressed lightly against his. Carefully she tapped once against his foot. In the moment it seemed the best way to show solidarity without being overly obvious at the touch. Part of her wanted to scoot all the way over, take Noah's hand in hers, and tell the Vulcan at their table where he could shove his unsolicited take on connections and softness. Instead, she let her foot linger next to Noah's and hoped Karim would get to the point.

Karim regarded Irynya for a long moment before replying.

"You speak of anchors as though they are defensive systems," he finally said, and his tone remained even. "During the Vidiian engagement aboard the Adelphi, you did not rely upon who cared whether we returned. You relied upon targeting resolution, helm precision and the willingness to engage a hostile entity without hesitation. That action cost them lives. It also ensured mine continued."

Karim inclined his head slightly towards her, perhaps as a subtle gesture of gratitude, before he contoured.

"But, care - anchors - did not prevent my abduction. It did not reduce the duration of surgical violation. It did not alter the physiological response to trauma. What altered the outcome was competence. Yours, for instance, and others who acted with similar clarity, and unorthodoxy for my treatment subsequently." His eyes did not leave her as he spoke, his calm and Vulcan mien unchanging. "You were decisive because you compartmentalised; you did not prioritise softness in that moment and remained efficient. Had variables shifted by even a few seconds, sentiment would have been irrelevant." He folded his hands again, composed. "This is not service within days of Sector 001, Lieutenant. There is no fleet wall behind us. The Delta Quadrant does not negotiate with attachment. But, perhaps your own circumstances have now changed. The equilibrium is off-balance?"

Then, without warning, his gaze moved to Noah.

"The cider is traditionally sharp on the first taste. Does it suit you, Ensign?"

The shift to Noah was infuriating. A goad that Irynya felt sure was meant to drive a reaction. It very nearly succeeded. She had opened her mouth to retort -- an argument about how equilibrium meant something different to every officer and to paint them all with the same brush was foolish. But the words never made it past her lips. Instead, she shut her mouth and looked to Noah.

The defensive expression dropped and she offered him an encouraging smile. They were on shoreleave and whatever this was, bore little consequence to the moment in her eyes. There was time to figure out why she was being interrogated at dinner later. Instead, she raised the glass of cider that had somehow appeared at her place in the midst of the tension and held it out to Noah, tipping the glass slightly toward him.

"The right term," she asked him, now ignoring Karim with the same calculated indifference he had originally given to Noah, "is cheers?"

"I don't drink much," Noah said as he slipped out of his chair, "Be right back..." Noah assured Irynya, his look deliberate. This was way too much and way too weird. Commander or not, this Karim seemed intent on making them uncomfortable and to interject his agenda in to their evening. Noah approached their waiter with a grimace. "Excuse me, I'm-I'm sorry but we are a party of two. That man just invited himself in to our group and he's making us uncomfortable. Can you please call station security?"

The Antarian glanced past Noah's shoulder and eyed Karim and Irynya. They nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't sense that. We'll call them right away."

"Thank you," Noah said, and he swayed back walking to the table. He didn't immediately sit down, but lingered at his chair.

Karim did not rise when Noah returned to the table, but he had observed the altered posture and the refusal to sit. The faint tightening at the jaw and throat that betrayed elevated pulse and adrenaline. The untouched cider.

“Instructive,” he said quietly, his eyebrow arching as he drew conclusions. His gaze moved to Noah, steady, exacting. “You have elected to externalise discomfort rather than endure it.” A fractional pause. “There is no threat here, Ensign. Not from me, at least.” His eyes shifted back to Irynya.

“The Delta Quadrant will not always provide security and structure when conversation proves unwelcome, in timing or in detail.” He lifted his glass at last and took a measured sip. “Anchors are most noticeable when they shift.” He set the glass down and rose, waiting for the impending arrivals. He seemed unhurried and unconcerned, even by Vulcan standard. “I believe I have my answers.”

Irynya fixed the Vulcan with a look, eyes narrowing slightly as if she had figured him out and was now checking her work. "Anchors," she said, "are not defensive." Her gaze was level, unflinching. "They are motivation. Had I merely been motivated for my own needs when the Vidiian's came for us I would have been crippled by the fear. But Timmoz...and Sheldon... and Dravor and Chaali and, yes, even you needed me to pilot that bomb into the path of that ship. Caring about someone doesn't prevent the crisis. It helps us to survive it. It helps us to do what was necessary for others to survive it too even when fear threatens to destroy us."

She glanced at Noah then, not caring what Karim decided to attribute to the look. "I do not know what answers you think you have found, but I promise you I am a better officer because of the people I care about. Think whatever you like about that "

"Opinions are not facts. Observations are not enough and this conv-" Noah began.

"Excuse me." This was a new voice. It was rich and thick, found on greenish-hued blue lips that were breathing in to a fine ghostly mist from their chest. The Benzite stood, wearing yellow shouldering, their arms behind their back. A stun stick and a phaser were notably on their hip. Another officer- a Ktarian woman- surveyed the trio with strange green cat-like eyes. "We've had a report of a disturbance." The Benzite glanced at their chest and double-tapped their commbadge to signal that they had arrived. "Sir, please step over here." The Benzite gestured at a space away from Irynya and the table. He silently directed his Ktarian companion to contain Noah and Irynya.

Karim rose before the Benzite finished speaking. His chair moved back without scrape or haste. He adjusted the fall of his command-red jacket with one precise motion and inclined his head first to Irynya, then to Noah.

"Good evening, Lieutenant. Ensign."

There was no edge in it. No apology either.

He stepped clear of the table as indicated, posture erect, hands clasped lightly behind his back.

"A disturbance has not occurred," he said evenly to the Benzite officer. "A philosophical disagreement, perhaps. That does not constitute actionable misconduct." His gaze moved briefly between the two security officers. "I have issued no orders, made no threats, and obstructed no officer in the execution of duty. There is therefore no authority under Starfleet regulation or Federation statute to detain or question me." A fractional pause. "You are, of course, welcome to review the establishment’s security recordings at your leisure or speak to these fine officers. Should you determine that further clarification is required, you may contact me via my office. I am not departing Pathfinder Station." He inclined his head once more, courteous but final. "That will satisfy your report."

Without waiting for permission, and without urgency, Karim turned and moved toward the exit of The Cidery, stride measured, expression composed, leaving the lantern light and the untouched cider behind.

At the table, Irynya gaped. The whole bizarre experience finally showing its full force on her face.

The two security officers now turned to Irynya and Noah. "The Commander is correct," the Benzite advised, "if he is leaving of his own volition he hasn't committed any crimes that warrant detaining him." He looked to his Ktarian partner who nodded and continued the thought.

"Unless there is anything more you would like us to know," the Ktarian woman added, brow raised in inquiry.

Irynya frowned at this, unsure of how to proceed. "No," she finally said. "I don't think he'll be back, and as unpleasant as he was, I'd just as soon be done with the whole encounter."

A server arrived as she spoke carrying three identical elegantly plated meals. They began to place the dishes at each of the three chairs. "There's just two of us," Irynya informed them before they could set the third plate on the table. "The other gentleman has left. Apologies for the confusion."

She slid out of her chair and, with a pointed motion, moved the chair Karim had drug over from another table to its original location, depositing the drink he had brought with him on the other table as well.

She looked to Noah with a small smile, the two security officers still standing by as Irynya erased the evidence of Karim's intrusion. "Don't let him ruin our night," she said softly. "Then he gets what he wants... I think."

Noah had sat when Irynya had pulled Karim's chair and drink away. In that time, he'd pulled inward, chin angle slightly down, arms tense and hands trapped under his seated thighs. He was roiling with emotions- indignation of being seen as an... accessory.. not even worth a name. But a member of Starfleet. Guilt for actually calling Security on a superior officer, no matter how wrong he felt he was being in the moment. Lost momentum. Lost energy. Lost spoons. He just shook his head slowly.

"Why can't people just leave us the f...." he redeployed. His brows arched. he reached for his drink and then pulled back from it. "Alone..." He muttered. "Who... who even does that? Walks up to people they don't know." He looked at Irynya, "Or-or barely know, invite themselves to a table, order for the table without even asking... and imposing their..." His eyes squinted, he shook his head with terse disbelief. "Whatever that was... on people. On shoreleave."

The Benzite officer, who had remained patiently by the table, made an odd sort of wet coughing sound that had to be the Benzite form of clearing his throat. Iry glanced up at him and then over to the Ktarian woman with him. "I... umm... I think we're ok. Do you need anything else form us?" she asked, feeling a sudden urgency for the two of them to be left alone as a whole, closing the whole unpleasant experience out with something that resembled finality.

Noah shook his head. "No. Thanks. A-appreciate it."

She glanced at Noah and then did the thing she had most wanted to do while Karim had been at the table. With a quick scoot of her chair she closed the space between them. Gently she extracted one of Noah's hands from his thighs and threaded her own fingers through his, locking their hands together and then letting the back of her hand rest on the spot on his thigh where his had previously been.

Noah smiled at that and gave her hand a little jostle with his own. "Sorry. Hey. I'm-I'm still here. I just feel like we're having a run of bad luck, you know?" he looked down at the food and chuckled. "I'm... are you even hungry? I feel bad for them making it but... I don't think I really want this."

Irynya eyed the food. It did look and smell good, but Noah wasn't wrong. No matter how good it looked it still felt... off... at that moment. Something in the pit of her stomach twisted a bit at the idea of cutting this particular experience short. Something... she wasn't entirely sure what... had been sitting there unvoiced before Karim interrupted. At least she thought maybe it had. Now, though, she doubted herself. Either way, she couldn't help feeling as if they'd had something lovely taken from them.

"I am pretty sure I downloaded the recipe for mozzarella cheese sticks before I left," she said, coming to a decision. "And I have a couple movies on my PADD too." She squeezed his hand, feeling the tiniest bit of awareness trickling back into the space between them. "If that sounds fun good to you?"

Oddly, Noah's nose scrunched at the idea of his go-to food. "No... no we came to try something new. Just maybe... not this. I don't um... I guess... uh... it feels weird to eat something that someone was going to instruct us to eat. I-I think..." Noah twisted his mouth in to a little knotted pucker. "I don't know..." he was really thrown off, still thrumming a bit with adrenaline and wondering how jacked up his career had just become. The energy was ruined... the momentum... the fun... had been ruined. And it'd felt nice at the start.

"How about we... um... try the ciders and..." he shrugged. He picked it up. "I mean that's why we came... but uh... and and then see what we want... if that's OK."

The Risian nodded, squeezing his hand again, not quite ready to relinquish the connection. "I'm sure it can all be recycled just fine," she agreed, and snagged her cider with her free hand and held it up, raising it slightly in his direction in indication of some sort of toast. "To trying new things," she said, feeling the need to say more something more... profound while also struggling to find the words.

Noah raised the glass of cider to Irynya and then gave it a sip. It was profound alien to the notion of cider, but his palate was as naive as they came. It was sparkly and fizzy... foamy... but the flavor was more like something akin to a semi-sweet cashew. It wasn't unpleasant. Just alien. Noah swallowed it. His face twisted to one of perplex- brows knitted, lips puckered. "Okay. I-I mean, most alcohol is an acquired taste right? I... uh... just need to remember that..."

A small amused smile tugged at the corners of Iry’s mouth as she watched Noah take a sip over the rim of her own glass. The drink was different, but even by her standards. She held the glass in front of her face, examining the layer of foam curiously. The structure of the foam was odd, more solid than most. She was tempted to stick her finger in it, but was sure that wouldn't be polite.

At Noah's comment she paused her examination to look up and had to bite back a laugh. Eyes rounded she leaned towards him and brushed a line of foam that was stubbornly clinging to his upper lip with her thumb. “That's true,” she commented as she removed the foam, “but not all tastes are worth acquiring.”

With a gesture she produces the edge of her thumb so he could see the foam she had just removed, belatedly realizing she should have asked before helping. Something in the pit of her stomach squirmed and this time the pleasantness of it was tinged with the memory of Commander Karim’s comments.

“Sorry,” she hurried to add. “I should probably have just told you. Do I have any?”

Noah had pulled back initially at the gesture, but not enough to stop her. It was... odd... having someone's hand coming at one's face without warning. He blinked. "Uhh..." He looked at her face. "No, you're ok. Thanks." He smiled in to a cheek and chuckled a short chuckle, "Mom." His nose wrinkled. "Among Humans that's kind of a motherly move. See... but..." he gestured to shoo away the thought, "Maybe its different with Risians?" His nose wrinkled. "What... with what just happened. And that," he gestured with a chin jut at her hand. "Its funny how many things um, are different, between cultures. Like... the Commander seemed to think what he did was okay."

Noah put his fingers around the drink again and gave it another tentative sip. He swallowed it. "Like... for-for example. Kissing. Humans kiss. But Tellarites and-and Vulcans don't. Vulcans are..." His eyebrows rose and fell quickly, "I mean they barely even touch each other..."

A half memory of a prior conversation… one of which Jyl-eel had been the subject… brought a new flavor to the bundle of fluttery responses in her belly–one she wasn't sure how to parse. She pushed the feeling away, focussing instead on what Noah was saying.

“Vulcan’s are touch telepaths, though,” Iry commented. “I don't exactly know how that works, but I overheard someone at the resort saying that they had seen a Vulcan couple holding hands. Something about their hands being really important for intimacy?” She shook her head.

“On Risa, this,” she made to swipe at her own upper lip with her thumb in a mirror of what she had just done, “or really any unsolicited touching on the face would be considered… not sexual, but intimate.” Her cheeks flushed at that. “Uh, that's why I probably should have asked first. Being familiar enough to touch like that when you're both adults is reserved more for a partner. Or a friend in woldelaht. Or… someone who you are very close with.” She screwed up her face trying to find a right further explanation. “I would have done that for Rami. And Marteli. But not for my other friends. Or for… like… Sheldon. Maybe not even Timmoz.”

She trailed off realizing she didn't have a good way to explain herself out of this. “I probably should have asked.”

"I didn't mind." Noah explained with a soft exhale. His fingers fidgeted at the oddly not-smooth but grainy-feeling glass. "It was just sudden. How'd I look with a mustache?" He grinned a wide goofy smile.

The fluttering picked up again--a reaction to his familiar goofy smile. Her eyes drifted for just a moment to his lips. "Weird," she answered with a mischievous smile. "Wrong color. Unless your mustache isn't going to match your..." She gestured toward the dark curly hair that framed his face.

Noah's smile widened a little. "Uhh the drapes match the..." He paused and squinted his eyes. "Wait tha-that's for something else." His brows rose, perked up, he blinked. "It'd match my hair. I'm thinking about..." And he reached for his chin, giving it a weightless scratch. "Trying but uh... its really scratchy."

The Risian's eyes widened with recognition. "Oh, I know that one! The carpet. Right? It's an innuendo or... what's the word... a way of saying everything is essentially the same tone. But... referring to the umm... yeah... the areas where you're normally covered." This was out so fast she barely had time to connect, in her enthusiasm for being familiar with the human phrase, that she hadn't considered how that implication might be received. "Mine too, but you know that already."

Noah just blushed and nodded.

The moment her brain caught up with her mouth the prickling feeling of a blush rushed up the back of her neck. "Because... you know... the beach program. And... uh... Timmoz's program too..." She shook her head as if to clear it and gave him a well, I can't take that back now that I've said it sort of smile before pivoting away from the topic.

A slight wince from Noah. He fumbled for his drink and took a swig of it. "Yep... yep... uhhh... why-why does the whole Alpha Quadrant have pubic hair. Its like... why does every culture have something that is almost exactly like Swedish Meatballs." His brows rose and he scooted his drink back on to the coaster. "Mysteries of-of the universe. I guess."

"They're called Eliora's Moons on Risa," she offered helpfully. "I'm sure someone thought it sounded poetic, but it seems like a ridiculous name for globe-shaped meat in a white sauce." She, too, reached for her drink, sipping a moment to clear her brain. As she sipped she evaluated the spot that Noah had indicated on his chin where it looked as if someone had placed a very precise set of small black dots. "Is it supposed to be itchy?" she asked, once she had swallowed.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Or. People warned me it would. It gets softer... supposedly... after a few days."

"That's good then?" Irynya asked. The sudden impulse to ask if she could touch his chin came, accompanied again by the fluttery feeling. Maybe the cider was stronger than she'd thought. Instead of asking, though, she fixed him with a small warm smile. "I think you should give it a few days if you can take the itching. See what you think."

She sighed and sipped again, this time pausing to take note of the amount left in her glass before she had more. "Umm, it would probably be a good idea for us to eat... something..." she finally said, raising her glass to show off how much was left. "Just... you know... to be safe." Her eyes fell to his glass, checking his own consumption against hers. "I mean, if you still want to."

Noah twisted his mouth in a doubting knot, and then nudged the cider away with a slow and deliberate press of two fingers.

Setting her own glass down she reached across herself, cupping her arm just above her elbow. Once again the discomfort that had come with Commander Karim's implications about anchors rose in her at the same time that she recalled a phrase Counselor Qo had used just a few weeks earlier. She chose the wisdom from Counselor Qo, selecting it like a blanket to pull around her shoulders as if it might banish anything else.

Noah's nose wrinkled. "I think we should just go. He made it weird. Really weird. I hope its not a tone-setter for the rest of shoreleave. You know?" Noah smiled a little awkward. "I don't know why, but this station gives me the creeps. Maybe its just the... I don't know."

Iry nodded, though her face fell. Noah was right. The night... the mood... had been tainted and she couldn't think of a single way to salvage it. "Yeah," she agreed. "I really wish he hadn't... done whatever that was he thought he was doing." She sighed, and slid her chair back from the table and stood, holding out her hand.

Noah tucked his chin to his chest for a moment and put the napkin he'd had in his lap on the table. "Yeah. Me too." It'd started off so... nice.

A Post By:

Commander Karim
Pathfinder Liaison Officer

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Helmswoman

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Engineer