Meeting of the Gless

Posted on Fri Jun 4th, 2021 @ 1:05am by Debbie Gless & Lieutenant Kennedy Ryan Walsh
Edited on on Fri Jun 18th, 2021 @ 9:04pm

Mission: The Place of Skulls
Location: Crew's Lounge
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 1200

[Debbie's Diner]
[USS Sojourner]
[1200 Hours]

It had been a couple of days since Doctor Kennedy Ryan Walsh's first visit to the Sojourner's Crew Lounge since dining for a late breakfast with his roommate Lieutenant Irynya. Roommate. He couldn't believe that he was sharing a space with them. His first posting in Starfleet onboard the aging Nebula-class USS Reliant he had shared quarters with another Doctor on another shift so it was unlikely for the two of them to run into each other. Now, on the Sojourner, there were four of them cooped up. He had zero complaints so far with his current living arrangements but there was still a bit of a strangeness living in close quarters with both Irynya (mostly her) and Sheldon Parsons.

He looked around as the crew lounge seemed a bit out of the ordinary to what he was familiar a few days ago. Was Sheldon playing an elaborate joke on him and in cahoots with his bunkmate Midshipman Balsam? He spotted a woman behind the counter and approached. "Uh, hello?"

It was no joke. The crew lounge had indeed been transformed from its normal, hum-drum borefest trappings into a hopping and bopping diner straight out of late 1950s Earth. Specifically, the eatery was a facsimile of similar diners from the Americana period of the United States. Booths in metallic-fleck red paint, tables in milky cream, and a checkerboard floor had completely replaced the ho-hum trappings of days prior. A rocking, piano-heavy song about "great balls of fire" (whatever those were) was blaring in the diner as Starfleet officers and personnel replicated their meals, found open booths, and tucked into their food. Some even placed orders with table hops -- crewers who volunteered in their off hours to act as wait staff for Debbie, the matron of this place.

It was she who turned around to face Kennedy. Wearing an obvious wig of giant purple curls and hoopy earrings that practically hung down to her shoulders, the enthusiastic woman seemed ecstatic to see the young man, even though they'd yet to be introduced. "Hiya baby!" she exclaimed, holding up a PADD and a stylus. "Welcome to my diner! Name's Debbie. You gonna order something or stand there slack-jawed?" she asked, clad in a red vest covered in buttons with funny sayings on them. Some choice selections included phrases like "Eat me!" and "Got a complaint? I didn't think so!" She work an expression that was both hawkish and amusingly welcoming.

On the counter that separated Debbie from Kennedy, an old-fashioned cash register occasionally made dinging and ringing sounds. Next to it was a little bowl of wrapped mints in green and brown: a fusion of chocolate and peppermint. Further down the counter was glass cake bell jar, which currently contained a pyramid-like stack of lemon bars dusted with powdered sugar. And underneath the counter in a glass case was a wide assortment of to-go pastries and desserts: donuts, bagels, slices of all kinds of cake, and several different varieties of pie. A sign denoted them all as handmade, likely in the tiny kitchen over the matron's shoulder.

"Uh," Kennedy was speechless about the rearrangement of the Crew's Lounge and the bubbliness of the Lounge's Manager.

A record changed in the JukeBox, "I-I love the colorful clothes she wears... And the way the sunlight plays upon her hair... I hear the sound of a gentle word... On the wind that lifts her perfume through the air..."

Kennedy in a very Vulcanesqe way raised an eyebrow as the chorus picked up. He snapped back to reality as he was adjusting to the new change to the Lounge that was very different to the other Lounges, just one other Lounge.

Very tacky, Kennedy thought before realizing she was giving him a PADD of the menu, "Sorry!" He lightly took the PADD from Debbie's hand while looking at the menu, "Hmm..."

Debbie studied the man's face as he looked around her establishment. Though she wasn't a mind-reader, she didn't need psionic sensibilities to know when someone wasn't thrilled about something. "You got a problem with this place?" Debbie snarked, popping a huge bubble of gum, her eyes daring Kennedy to complain. But then the man had grabbed the PADD out of her hands, leaving her stylus perched in thin air. It'd been poised in a ready position to take down Kennedy's order but, instead, it simply hung there, suspended in nothingness. On the PADD's screen, the doctor would be able to see several other orders, all of their items crossed off once delivered.

"Sweetie," the proprietor let out a sigh, "that wasn't for you. But if you wanna volunteer as a server around here, I'll happily get you a PADD of your own, hmm?" Debbie looked at Kennedy hawkishly, those earrings of hers swaying from side to side yet again.

Kennedy didn't realize that the PADD belonged to the proprietor of the Crew Lounge or what it was now called Debbie's Diner. He took an extra-long time looking over the menu, "What is a flapjack? Is that like the English biscuit or?"

Debbie's patience was beginning to wear a bit thin. Not because of the question but because he still hadn't given back her PADD. Did he not understand her inference before? Apparently, nothing but the most direct approach would do. "Gimme," she said, gesturing with her hand to return the PADD to her tender care. "That's not a menu...it's my ordering interface. Which is why there aren't pictures showing everything next to big, bold, bright letters spelling out their names." She chewed the inside of her left cheek and widened her eyes, waiting expectantly with her hand held out.

"Oh!" Kennedy scratched his forehead with his free hand while he handed her PADD back. His cheeks changed to a few colours of red to indicate his embarrassment.

"Thank you," Debbie said, holding the PADD close and again raising her stylus over it. "Flapjacks are pancakes. Ever heard of those? Round, mostly flat spreads of flaky, almost dough-like texture. Standard breakfast fare around here. Can even top them with chocolate chips or fruit, if you want 'em. But customers I got and time I don't. What's it gonna be, baby?" she asked, eyes flicking to the others waiting at tables looking expectantly her way. "I'll be with you in a jiff -- keep your pants on," Debbie snort-chuckled at those waiting.

"I've had them before. When I was at the Medical Academy. They just have a different meaning from where I'm from," Doctor Ryan Walsh replied. He added a little more emphasis with his Irish accent. "I'll have two of these 'flapjacks', a cup of Irish Tea, one over easy egg, a piece of toast and a mixed fruit bowl. Oh and a piece of bacon and one of those baby sausages."

"Swell," came the woman's retort in response to the order. Blowing a big bubble with her gum, Debbie audibly popped it and then said, "I will get to work on this. You," she gestured to an empty spot at the lunch counter, "take a seat and try to stay out of trouble, hmm?" Looking like a mother hen you'd think twice before crossing, Debbie crossed the diner to take orders from a few other folks before heading back behind the counter.

"Alright Mel," she said, poking her head back into the small kitchen. "Got some orders for you, baby. Sorry there's so many at once. You'd think he never heard of pancakes before," Debbie made a show of rolling her eyes, quiet enough, though, that Kennedy would not be able to hear over the song currently playing from the jukebox -- "Earth Angel" by The Penguins. Patting the window's counter as if to say "get to work," Debbie gave Mel adoring eyes before moving once again into the diner proper, slipping into the seat next to Kennedy.

"So kid," she began, chomping her gum, "what do you do on this ship?" She knew, of course: the crew were her business. But in her line of work, letting people talk about themselves always led to better outcomes. "You're a nurse or something, right?" she poked good-naturedly, smirking warmly.

"No, not a Nurse." Kennedy replied with a slightly uncomfortable chuckle, "I'm Doctor Ryan Walsh. Doctor Kennedy Ryan Walsh. Assistant Chief Medical Officer."

This was Kennedy's second posting out of the Medical Academy. He didn't recall any time the lounge manager had sat beside him. His superior Doctor Emni t'Nai's words about the Delta Quadrant being a lonesome place had been clawing away at him since coming onboard. Having anti-social in his personnel file might hurt him down the line in the future.

"You sure like saying your name," Debbie clucked like a chicken, her smile still present. "Well, Doctor Kennedy Ryan Walsh," she sat up straight on her chair, "we're very glad to have you aboard. Feel free to pop in here any time. Oh, and be sure to try the lemon bars, hmm? They're my specialty." She pointed to the bell jar up on the counter, which contained a pyramid of about 20 of said citrusy confections.

The dinging of a bell snagged the matron's attention. "You'll have to excuse me. Orders are up! But I'll bring your pancakes once they're ready, sweetie," Debbie said, rising from her chair and patting the good doctor on his arm. "Welcome to the Sojo," she said with affection before moving off.

"You too," Kennedy watched Debbie leave to attend to her business.

Debbie Gless
Chef and Hostess Extraordinaire
USS Sojourner

Lieutenant Junior Grade Kennedy Ryan Walsh
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Sojourner