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Debbie Does Breakfast

Posted on Fri Jul 16th, 2021 @ 10:03pm by Lieutenant Chaali & Ensign Jyl-eel Tor & Ensign Noah Balsam & Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant Sharrina Blackstone & Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Kennedy Ryan Walsh & Ensign Ezra Gonzalez & Andrew Munro & Maje Jaha Veeth & Lieutenant JG Irynya & Crewman Crell Durack & Debbie Gless
Edited on on Sat Jul 24th, 2021 @ 8:28pm

Mission: The Place of Skulls
Location: Aft Observation Lounge; Deck 7
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 0700

[Aft Observation Lounge / Debbie's Diner]
[Deck Seven-Aft]
[0700 Hours]

"Re-initialize the... 114-Omega Buffer...." Noah was obviously very tired. His cheekbones rose to a darkening under his eyes and he looked a bit pale. Glassy, near-black eyes flicked with the holographic before him that gave his fairness a jaundiced quality. The light-display pulsed and then flickered a brief green- Noah's mouth twitched at the corners with approval. He rubbed the flat of his nose, and then his temples. He hadn't divulged that he had been up literally all night- first getting the Holodeck into a usable condition, and then creating the skin for Debbie's new diner.

He unraveled another saltwater taffy and popped it into his mouth- but if he were honest he couldn't even remember the last three flavors he'd previously eaten he was so focused. "Now bring... um..." he breathed shallowly out while his gaze shifted around his holomatrix code, "... 71-98 Interface... set to permanent...." he mumbled. The Midshipman stroked his chin and briefly closed his eyes. They were beginning to hurt and so was his long back- he'd been hunching over code for awhile and had been so engrossed that he'd forgotten his usual hourly stand and stretch.

"Guess this is the big moment," Debbie said, suddenly sidling up to the stick-insect-as-human. While Starfleet used building materials that were great at isolating sound, that didn't stop the crowd's murmurings from beyond the large double doors from still seeping into the room. "Hungry people out there. Hope we can keep up with 'em all," she shuffled on her feet uncertainly. "Mel's a good short order cook, though. And he's got me," she flashed a grin, all faux glitz and glamor in her pin-encrusted vest and a t-shirt that said, "Replicate THIS." The words were accompanied by the graphic of a flying middle finger. A PADD stylus was threaded behind her ear, half lost in fuchsia curls today, even as larger, hoopy gold earrings swayed beneath her eyes.

"You ready, kid?" she asked, eyeing Noah with confident eyes. He'd become her partner in this endeavor and had more than proved himself as a friend and ally. It'd taken them several hours and some late night conversations to get all of the details jusssssst right. But now, at the precipice of the official opening, she could sense that the young man might be experiencing some jitters. "It's going to be perfect, Noah. You'll see," she encouraged, watching the drab lounge expectantly -- knowing that at Balsam's forthcoming command, it would become something else. It'd be hers, finally.

"Five seconds," Noah said promptly, his eyes scanning his code one last time for any imperfections. And five seconds later he glanced up at the matronly woman with a tired smile, "Index. Transfer master control of all holo-matrices, subroutines, and immersive interaction protocols under Debbie's Diner to Debbie Gless. Authorization Balsam Iota 71 Iota Charlie Delta 6 Ampersand." He breathed up and out- which ruffled his bangs- and toppled his hands on his head.

"Transfer complete," the computer announced.

Noah's tired eyes widened, goofily, as he nibbled his lip. "Its all-all yours..."

"Then let's get this party started! Computer," Debbie raised her voice, "initiate 'Debbie's Diner,' pronto and lickety split." She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned from ear-to-ear as the holographic skin shimmered and shimmied into position.

Boring, hum-drum walls in slathered in beige were replaced with checker-board patterns and red trim. The lounge -- which had been cleared of its watching-paint-dry furniture -- suddenly became filled with booths and standalone tables and chairs, all with red, metal-flecked surfaces that sparkled in the light. The counter -- where Debbie's antique cash register and bell jar of lemon bars sat -- transformed into a lacquered surface trimmed in race-car-chrome. Adorned on the walls were all manner of pictures, showing various musicians and what appeared to be their autographs. Some of the scrawling writing on the photos even said things like "Debbie's is the best!" and "I'd never eat anywhere else." And, for the final touch, a ancient-Earth style jukebox appeared, playing an old record of dazzling piano tunes and frenzied singing by none other than Jerry Lee Lewis.

"It's fucking perfect," Debbie swore, her eyes shining as she turned to Noah. "Baby, you did an amazing job! Thank you!" she said, reaching out to wrap the lanky young man in the biggest of mama bear hugs. She took great care not to break Noah in her enthusiasm, however.

Noah hugged the Mother Bear back, his long and lanky arms wrapping her girth. "I'm glad you like it," he said, pleased, into the nook of her shoulder.

Letting the computer specialist go, Debbie blew a bubble and popped it, her hawkish eyes sweeping the diner for anything out of place. Satisfied with all she saw, Deb put her hands on her hips and said, "It's time then." And with that, she moved to the large double doors of the lounge -- nay, "Debbie's Diner" now -- and waved them open.

"Hello everyone!" the matron exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "We're officially open! C'mon in, grab a table, and peruse the menu. A server will be with you shortly. And if you're lucky, it'll be me," she snickered. Behind her, said servers were standing around the holographic environment waiting to swoop in. Deb was thankful for the help of crewmembers who'd volunteered their time to help out during the opening and, if they did well, they'd stay on to help during the busy meal time rushes as well.

Waste management specialist Crell Durack was in his glee as he stood there ready to serve. He was elbows deep in waste on the holodeck when he got the offer to take a few hours off to help out in Debbie's Diner. Waste extraction and recycling was not the most glamorous of tasks; but, a job that needed doing never the less. Crell saw his duty as necessary, as necessary as the biological functions that made his job possible. He had a smile on from ear to ear, his whole blue Bolian body almost vibrated with excitement to get started. He would feed the crew now and during his next shift in waste management clean it up. Crell saw this opportunity as a real treat, in this moment his career had really come full circle.

One of Crell's fellow Bolians strode in, donning a Rococo-inspired, lady-Barrister wig in lilac. She sauntered with the boisterous gregariousness of her species to the room's generous host. "Debbie," she said a gleeful bubbliness, "This is an impressive reproduction. All you're missing is a waitress on roller skates," the Bolian teased with a gentle touch to the fleshly matron's shoulder.

"Oh um... tha-that's not actually true," Noah interjected tentatively, having hovered near Debbie. "Index." The computer geek gestured with his bony chin when the holographic interface appeared. But instead of its usual androgyne appearance in gray, it had bright peroxide blonde hair with a curled over itself quiff, and lacquered fire engine red lipstick. Index had checkboard lapels to an otherwise coral-colored uniform, a knee-length skirt, and white roller skates.

The Bolian chuckled, "You're both certifiable."

Debbie positively guffawed at Index's new look. "Nice touch, kid," she smirked wryly at Noah once the laughs had subsided. "Baby," she turned to Chaali, "I have to know. Do you design your wigs yourself? You always have the most fabulous hair," the matron beamed from ear-to-ear, eyes flicking to momentarily watch the people streaming into the diner. "Big crowd this morning," she said, chewing her gum and putting her hands on her hips. "Might as well start with the two of you! What can I get ya?" Deb said, pulling out a PADD and removing its stylus from behind her right ear.

Noah smiled back at Debbie, pleased obviously that she was pleased. When Debbie's attention turned to Chaali's wigs, Noah too fixated on the lilac-colored look.

"Wigs are very very in on Bolarus right now," Chaali expounded with her glee. "I've designed a few in my day," she said with one hand on a hip and the other pretending to primp the wig. "But the great ones come from atelier. Groups like Mott's and Brill's. This one is a Juju of Ashendii." She again primped the wig, "It was a splurge, but I bought it as a little therapy once the Adelphi got home."

"Baby, there ain't no substitute for retail therapy," Debbie guffawed again, putting a hand to her chest. The woman looked closely at the wig, admiring it openly.

Noah folded his arms, "I-I would like a chocolate malt..." He said, "Please. If its uh... not too early. I mean early hours but it's late for me." He grin-grimaced and looked at Chaali.

"Oh, Bolian tonic water for me. I'm on duty soon."

Deb nodded along as she entered the order into her PADD. "One chocolate malt and a Bolian tonic water coming up!" she said before excitedly disappearing behind the bar. "Mel! One choco malt, extra malt with a mountain of whipped cream and a cherry. Chocolate drizzle. Stat," she said, moving to the replicator for the tonic water. While the malts were made in-house from replicated ingredients -- they were just better that way -- the Sojourner wasn't set up for producing Chaali's beverage without a technological assist.

A few moments later, Debbie returned, parsing out the requested beverages. "There you go, sweetie," she said to Noah, handing him a chocolate malt that would dwarf the young man in size. "Extra whipped cream never hurts. Just add a couple minutes to your next run," she chortled before turning to Chaali. "One Bolian tonic water -- calorie free and refreshing. It's fizzier than a hive full of bees, baby," Deb laughed, handing the drink over. "If you'll excuse me, I'm up to my tits...scuse me, chest," she clucked, "in customers today." And with that, the woman was gone.

Noah smiled and glanced at Chaali, "Sh-she meant tits...." He said with a rock-back on his heels. Chaali smirked.

Emni stepped through the doors, unable to suppress a grin at the look and feel of the place. Those who knew Debbie from the Adelphi were in for a particular treat--a taste of their former home enshrined in their new one. She found herself thinking of how easily this place felt comfortable and quickly sidled up to one of the stand alone tables where she was promptly approached by a Bolian man she had not yet met.

Crell recognized her immediately, "In a time when things keep changing, it sure is nice to have one place that stays the same. Welcome to Debbie's Diner, what can I get our fine Second Officer?" The Bolian wasn't sure where his words originated; yet, upon reflection they seemed fitting. The diner was a blast from the past, a comfort in a familiar and consistent sort of way. Crell appreciated that. He held his PADD against his chest and eagerly awaited her response.

Emni raised an eyebrow and offered a friendly smile to the enthusiastic Bolian. "A cup of coffee, two sugars and cream and a cheese and mushroom omelet. To go if that's an option, Mr..." she replied, drawing out the mister in hopes that the man would offer his name.

"Well, Ma'am, I am Mister Durack, that is Waste Management Specialist Crell Durack, part-time server apparently; but, I cannot complain. It is a real privilege to be helping Debbie here at the diner today. A cup of coffee, two sugars and cream and a cheese and mushroom omelet, you got it! For take away? I am certain that can be arranged; but, as you likely know...everything tastes better at Debbie's. It is like eating something in the great outdoors... Just tastes better. Take away?" He lifted his eyebrow to confirm.

Heaving an exaggerated sigh to match Crell's enthusiasm, Emni shook her head. The Bolian's gleeful humor would be contagious to even the most dour of patrons. Emni let his enjoyment of the moment through the emotional barriers, resisting the urge to wink at the man as she did. "Alas, Mr. Durack, duty calls and crew physicals won't complete themselves. If I could stay, believe me I would, but it's not in the cards for the day. But perhaps, if you'll still be filling in here, I'll ask for your table the next time around."

The Bolian gave a little laugh through the faintest of snorts, "I hear you loud and clear Doctor Ma'am, and I'll hold you to it. I'll be right back in two flicks of a Bolian bee's wing, with your order as specified!" And with that the man vanished like the sun which dipped below the horizon, the last gasp of beauty before the death of the day. A few moments later the blue-skinned alien reemerged. As he moved toward her, the tip of his elbow very awkwardly clipped a stack of glasses which tumbled over. The Bolian danced as if his legs were made of straw in an effort to not drop the good doctors meal. Luck and good fortune was on his side as he paused to look back over his shoulder at the glasses, "Whoops, did I do that?" A faint laugh and snort followed as he very gingerly placed Emni's take away order in her hands. "Here you go! I hope you enjoy!" Crell stood straight, his hands moved to readjust his cuffs.

Emni stood, taking the proferred breakfast from Crell as she did. "Thank you Mr. Crell. I am certain I will. And I will look forward to a more lengthy stay at one of your tables in the future."

Offering the man a smile she turned and headed through the doors, nodding to Dogrov and Lal as they entered together, each peering around the space with twin looks of amazement. They had clearly never been to one of Debbie's establishments before and were clearly in for a treat.

Irynya had been near the back of the crowd, yawning after a late shift the night before. She was excited for Debbie's, but also admittedly ready for bed. It had been a long first day and the reports Commander Takomi had requested weighed heavily on her mind. But first, breakfast and sleep. She could figure out the upcoming flight controller rotations after a few hours of shut eye. Following the crowd as they made their way in she looked around the space and grinned. "Just like home," she muttered to herself, the Adelphi's Ten Forward lounge flashing across her minds eye, now gone to wherever decommissioned ships go to spend the rest of their lives. Now all she needed was a cup of coffee and a plate full of bacon and eggs.

Sharrina entered quietly, taking in the room with a smile. It reminded her of some of the pictures she'd seen of very old Earth establishments, and maybe that was the idea. She did wonder how they had managed it, though, aside from the obvious answer of holographics. She also wondered who the genius was who had done the code for all of this.

Seeing the hostess, she approached. "Hello, I just wanted to compliment you on this setup. As my half-brother would say, it's very retro." She noted the nervous tech she had seen in the Transporter Room standing nearby and smiled what she hoped was a kind smile. "Did you do all the code for this?" she asked him, remembering the intricate surgery he had been doing on the Transporter upon her arrival.

Noah's eyes had widened when the large Klingon woman had approached. "I-I did, yes." He said with respect toward Sharrina.

Sharrina wished that she didn't make him so uncomfortable. She thought maybe the smile wasn't helping as she had hoped it would. She shifted to a closed-mouth smile. "It's amazing. You are very talented!" she complimented sincerely. "Such detail; that must have taken forever to code." She really was impressed with the job he had done.

Noah bobbed his head in the affirmative, swaying the curls and waves that donned his head. He pushed them back behind his ears in some kind of an effort to be more presentable. He was well aware of how haggard from lack of sleep he must have looked. "I-I hope you like it here, Ma'am," he tried. He glanced at Debbie and back to the Klingon. "I've never met a Klingon before. Do uh, Klingons have diners?"

To Blackstone, Debbie smiled graciously. "Thank you for the compliment. Noah here did most of the work; the kid's brilliant at bringing ideas to life, you know," she said, having stopped by momentarily -- a tray of drinks held aloft in her right hand -- to chat. "Hope you enjoy yourself! Though if you'll excuse me, table six has been waiting far too long for these," Debbie chuckled, moving away after patting Noah on the shoulder with her free hand.

The young man's appearance had not bothered Sharrina. He had been working, after all, and had likely not had the chance yet to return to his quarters for a shower and some rest. It occurred to her that she should not be bothering him, but she did not want to discourage this bit of engagement he was showing with her. She chuckled softly. "Well, I'm only half Klingon, but--" His admission sank in then, and she tilted her head slightly. "Never? Interesting. That never occurred to me. Is that why I make you so nervous?" She asked, but she didn't dwell on that question. Instead, she moved the conversation away from him to his question... for his sake. "To answer your question, we have... eateries, though I'm not sure they'd be comparable to this. They're... rougher, more..." she paused, searching for a word, "intense." She looked around them for a moment then looked back at him. "I think I like this better."

Noah's too-big-for-his-face smile crept up, pushing into his creasing dimples with an air of bemusement but also apology. "Oh... uh... p-please understand, you don't make me nervous, Ma'am." He glanced at Debbie across the way and back despite Sharrina's try at re-steering the conversation. He just needed her to know it wasn't personal. She made him nervous as many situations did, but he didn't want her to feel that way, "I'm, it's..." He grimaced with a breath and a chuckle. He re-centered, "I take some getting used to," he said with an eyebrow raised, "And I take a while, to, uh, get used to new people. I'm-I'm not in my element right now." He said with a glance around.

Noah's mouth fixed in an affirming but amiable line and he nodded. A rougher eatery coincided with his somewhat caricature view of the Klingon Empire. "I'm glad you like it. Debbie is a really good cook."

Sharrina was relieved to know that she was not the ultimate cause of his discomfiture, and she had to admit, at least to herself, that she liked that smile. It was charming. The rest made things clear; he was shy. She'd seen a couple of those people at the Academy, so she got the concept. She had never been shy, though, so true understanding was outside of her capability. But she could sympathize. "I comprehend, and take all the time you need."

She nodded at the rest. "I'm sure she is," she acknowledged the assertion that Debbie was a good cook, then moved on to address his statement that this wasn't his element. "May I ask, out of curiosity, what is your element?" Whose genes this curiosity came from was up for debate, but it hardly mattered. Her mother and father alike had always told her it would get her into trouble, and it had on any number of occasions, but she had never been good at stifling it. Though if he preferred not to answer, that was fine too.

"Oh, systems engineering and design, Ma'am," he said with an easier smile, "I-I wrote my senior thesis on Infolife Rights and wrote a p-program for a medical hologram." Noah was a reciprocal creature at heart, "What-what about you Ma'am? Are you... S-security? Or Operations?"

"That's pretty impressive." Sharrina complimented genuinely. "So you dabble in AI programming?" Truth was, he sounded like someone else she knew, but that was not a bad thing; Sharrina liked her half brother's mother, and that woman did work in the field of AI. "I'm Security, but I do have other interests. I'm not all teeth and claws," she joked lightly. Though, now that she thought about it, many of her hobbies did include the use of such. Hm, maybe she needed some new hobbies.

That too-wide smile slid to some kind of combination of sly and rueful, "Well... um... p-positonic research is illegal in the Federation," his eyes skirted away and back, "Of course. Um. Outside a-a few worlds that refused to comply." He ran fingers into the curly hair on his nape, "Like Bynaus and Catulla. But I research the quantum-rotational duotronics of legal ALI neural architecture." Noah clearly felt some kind of underlying passion about the subject as he fidgeted and finally folded his arms across his chest. He smiled agreeably, "But-but that's for another time. Um." Again he glanced at Deb -- who was off taking orders two tables down -- and back. "So, wuh-what other kinds of interests?"

Sharrina chuckled softly. "I knew the positronic kind was illegal. Relax; I wasn't asking about that kind." Her own smile, no teeth showing, came again. "I confess, I don't know much about AI in general, or the programming of it, but I know someone who does. The legal kind, that is." She chuckled softly again. "As to interests, I was just thinking that I might need to find a few new ones. Most of my hobbies tend to be... hazardous. I'm certainly open to suggestions." She had not missed the underlying passion in him, but neither did she address it just then. It was apparent that he wanted to move the subject on, so she cooperated.

"Cheese sticks," Debbie said, suddenly reappearing. "Noah here loves cheese sticks and marinara. He's a kid after my own heart, aren't you, baby?" she asked, reaching up to momentarily pinch the human stick-bug's cheek. It seemed with Timmoz and Nico both off the ship, Balsam had become the latest outlet for her motherly affections. "You ever had 'em, Lieutenant?" she asked, honestly curious. "They're not exactly standard fare for Klingons, of course, but they're pretty damned good. How's that malt, sweety?" she asked Noah.

Noah's fine-boned cheek structure had sucked in on the straw. He looked at Debbie and grinned widely when she pinched one of his cheeks. "Its delicious, th-thanks," he confirmed. But he set it down, "Um. Do-do you need some help?" He asked. "This place is crazy." He thumbed toward the front, "I-I could put on an apron," he grinned, "I can even, uh, rollerskate."

Deb gave this some thought. If Parsons can do it, she eyed the clumsy engineer delivering drinks a few tables away, I suppose an awkward computer nerd could. "I would love your help, sweety. Let's sit down later today and map out a couple of shifts for you. Then we can go over the routine. Skates are optional but if you feel steady on 'em, who am I to argue?!" she chortled heartily.

Noah nodded. He was about to say he really could skate when-

The sound of metallic crashing suddenly drew Debbie's attention away. Debbie turned to see Parsons with a chagrined look on his face and two spilled drinks at his feet. The people whose drinks were now on the floor looked a little peeved, especially since one had been a malt, which had half-splashed up Parsons' legs and onto the booth seat as well.

"Sorry Deb! I'll...uh...clean these up, ok? So sorry," Parsons said to Debbie and the two people at the table. Blushing mightily, he bent to stack the empty glasses on his tray and then disappeared to find cleaning supplies.

"Say what you will," Debbie half-smirked/half-hawkishly glared, "but that boy's going to be the death of someone someday." Shaking her head, she turned to the security officer in gold. "I do believe I've yet to get your name, Lieutenant. I'm Debbie," the woman said, holding out a hand for shaking and offering her biggest smile.

Sharrina had paused and not answered the lady's last question as fthe conversation had moved away from her. Now, she offered her own smile and took the offered hand. "Sharrina Blackstone," she offered. "Nice to meet you, Debbie. And to answer your question from before, yes, I have had cheese sticks. My father is Human, and so I was exposed to many Human foods." Her eyes flicked to Noah as she offered him a smile then returned to Debbie. "I did find them delicious. Not sure what it is about fried cheese, but it does appeal."

"Honey, you fry anything and it'll be a thousand times better," Debbie clucked and bobbed her head, smiling from hoopy earring to hoopy earring. "Alright you two, I hate to do it but there are mouths to feed and only so many hands. You two enjoy yourselves, ok?" the woman asked, backing away and making the universal I've-Got-My-Eyes-On-You gesture. Clearly, she intended to ensure both the lanky human and the playful half-Klingon had a good time.

Ezra absent-mindedly wandered in then, his eyes glued to his PADD, as they almost always were now whenever he wasn't at his console in the lab. He was able to tear them away long enough to catch a server's attention. "I would like to have scrambled eggs and bacon, with chipa bread on the side and mate cocido con leche to drink." He started toward an open table before remembering to be polite. "Please. Thank you."

The server smiled at Ezra with a nod. "I'll tell Deb. Sweetened or unsweetened?"

"Sweetened, thank you," Ezra said as he made his way to the table. "No one drinks unsweetened cocido," he added quietly to himself. "It just tastes like smoke that way. That's gross."

Andrew Munro entered what had been the Aft Observation Lounge and was momentarily taken aback by its transformation. He'd looked up what a 'Fifties Diner' was in the historical files for Earth and ended up spending a few hours browsing 'Americana'. Stepping into one was something else entirely, the files hadn't quite captured the the smell of the food and the warm, joyful atmosphere of the already busy diner. Only a few faces were familiar to him but he spotted Debbie by her fuchsia curls as she masterfully whipped together someone's order.

"Nice place you got here," he complimented with a big smile.

"ANDREW!" Debbie exclaimed, setting aside said order in her excitement. "Hi baby! I was hoping you'd stop into this little shindig!" She came around the counter and wrapped the bear of a man in a giant mother hen hug. "You here all alone, baby?" she asked once she'd released Andrew from the embrace. "

"I'm meeting Björn here," he replied warmly, spotting an as yet unoccupied booth across the room. "I'll grab that booth over there. Any chance of one of those malt shakes I've read about whilst I wait?"

"You sure as hell can," Debbie replied, moving back behind the counter. The previous order she'd been working on? It was totally forgot as she moved to the malt machine to personally whip up the beverage for her adopted-son-in-law-in-sin. Andrew and Björn hadn't gotten married yet but, living together as they were, they might as well be. "You want chocolate? Vanilla? Strawberry?"

"Deb! Can we get those drinks?" came a voice from a nearby table.

"Hold yer horses! I'm busy," Debbie turned, firing back. "You'll get 'em when you get em. Now," she turned back to Andrew, "where were we, hmm? Oh right! What flavor did you want, baby?"

"The chocolate one sounds great!" Andrew replied quickly, conscious that bumping his order in front of other peoples' wasn't the best first impression he could be making on them. He slipped into the vacant booth he'd spotted before he caused any further distraction. There'd be time for chat when bellies are full.

A minute later, Debbie sidled up to said booth with a chocolate malt on her tray. She'd delivered the other drinks en route to Andrew's booth, ameliorating dusted up dander with some charming repartee. Free now to linger, the matronly hostess leaned against the edge of the booth and smiled as she handed across the malted shake. "Here you go, baby. I hope you like it." From her wrists hung hoopy bracelets, which went well with similar hoops that hung from her ears. "Well," she chuckled, "I do believe I see your date for this evening. Hiya sweety!" she exclaimed, reaching out to snag Björn -- who'd just appeared from somewhere -- in a tight hug.

"Hey Deb," rasped the Captain, his voice cheerful. "I'd have been in with this lug," he thumb-chucked to Andrew, "sooner but had to stop by the Bridge for a quick briefing on our course. All is well," Björn intoned as he moved to gently run his hand over Andrew's close-shaved head. "Good morning, my sexy boy. Did you enjoy your shower? Pretty sure I heard singing," he smirked, then slid down into the booth to sit side-by-side with his beau. "Deb, how about some schnitzel and eggs? Brown gravy? And one of those," he beamed at Andrew's shake. "You want anything else, handsome?" Björn asked his breakfast-date.

"I'll have a ham and cheese omelette with a short stack of pancakes on the side," Andrew decided. Maybe a coffee would have paired better with that order, but the shake was good, and in keeping with the theme of the place.

"Can do!" Deb grinned back, having penned the order into her PADD. "Be back in a jiff, babies." And with that, the hostess swept herself away into the crowd, vanishing into the ether.

"You know," Björn said warmly in that husky voice of his, "I'm getting quite used to waking up next to you aboard ship. Space doesn't feel nearly so empty with you softly snoring beside me." He reached out then, taking the man's left hand in his right and squeezing it affectionately. "I'm so glad you came with me, Andrew."

"I'm glad I was able to come," Andrew grinned back, aware of the innuendo. He laid his head on Björn's right shoulder and enjoyed the closeness for a moment. "It almost feels too good to be true. I get to be with you, the lab is amazing and you even kitted it out with some eye candy for me."

"If you're suggesting," Björn adopted an innocent tone, "that I purposefully selected a lab parter for you who'd test your convictions, I'm quite appalled..." his husky voice intoned. "Appalled that you haven't arranged for a holodeck hot tub outing for the three of us yet, that is," the older man chuckled, tilting his head to gently rest against Andrew's. "That's totally happening, right? Assuming he leaves his bug collection in the lab..."

“I think it’ll take quite a bit more work to tear him away from that collection,” Andrew joked. It was a nice idea, but had a lot of potential to get awkward.

“I have to say, this place looks amazing,” Andrew noted as he ran a finger along the chrome trim. “Did you have something like this on the Adelphi?”

"I've never understood peoples' fascination with bugs," Björn chuckled before nodding to Andrew's question. "Yes, actually. Debbie had a version of this diner on the Adelphi. It was all done with physical furniture and decorations, though. Replicated stuff, not actual antiques. I think she recycled it all when we left the ship." There it was -- a certain glint in his tone that signaled regret about the Chameloid's former ship. "But I agree, she and Mr. Balsam have done an amazing job on this place." He stretched an arm out then, drawing Andrew in closer for a few seconds of sideways-bear-hug. "I foresee lots of lunches and dinners here," the Chameloid chuckled.

Kennedy walked into the Aft Observation Lounge. It was pretty packed following its conversion into a diner. He decided he would leave and enjoy food from the replicator in his quarters.

Kennedy ran straight into a voluptuous young woman in science blue. Jyl-eel Tor staggered, hands bracing for that last-minute try at minimizing collision damage when she saw him coming in. She smiled at him, "Excuse me, Sir," she said. Her eyes were already eagerly searching out the crowd for her friends on this inauguration day. "Are you alright?" Jyl-eel asked. A small group of junior officers passed them by, a couple of murmuring to Jyl-eel that they'd get a table while she dealt with the fallout.

Kennedy tried to form a sentence together but he stuttered through it, “I-I-uh-fine-and-you?” Kennedy winced painfully. It seemed that he was 2-0 for running into someone at a ship function. Luckily this time it wasn’t with a drink in hand. He shook his head at the inappropriate thought of a drink pouring across the bosom of the young woman in front of him. “Sorry!”

"No damage," Jyl-eel replied with a pleasant smile. "Sorry again. Have a good night Sir," she said warmly, sidestepping to let the man pass. The Valtese caught up with her friends in the Diner. They'd found a table. She dropped into an open section of a booth. "Who's got the first round?" One of her companions asked.

A Post By:

Debbie Gless
Proprietor and Matron

Midshipman Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

Captain Bjorn Kodak
Commaning Officer

Andrew Munro

Lieutenant JG Chaali
Chief Operations Manager

Doctor Kennedy Walsh
Medical Officer

Doctor Emni t'Nai
Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant JG Irynya

Ensign Jyl-eel Tor
Science Officer

Lieutenant Sharrina Blackstone
Security Officer

Ensign Ezra Gonzalez

Crewman Crell Durack
Waste Management/Waiter


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