Sakarra had listened intently; chin resting on her folded fingers while inhaling the pleasant food scent. A fascinating approach, although both Vulcans and Betazoids would find it illogical in the extreme. Well, in all honesty Betazoids would use a different word.
"I thank you for such a detailed explanation, Brent. For one raised in two matrilineal cultures the concept is … difficult to comprehend. Although even Betazoids have become somewhat more tolerant of the idea as it pertains to outworlders, it is still considered …" she searched for a word that might not offend the human, but unfortunately every single one employed by her Betazoid family in this regard was rather emphatic. Finally, she settled for a Vulcan alternative
"… impractical."
She gave the food an appreciative look and finally decided to pick up the fork; savoring the first few bites with as much outwards signs of enjoyment as a Vulcan would ever care to show in public.
But while on her homeworld food was generally enjoyed in companionable silence, Sakarra was quite aware humans shared the Betazoid preference for adding conversation. Opting for a compromise, the young Vulcan paused and picked up the tea again.
"You have many siblings, then? Forgive me if it is a too personal question, but it seems to be another cultural difference which I find rather intriguing."
"Mmm. I suppose from the outside it is impractical. The decisions early on that I spoke about was reportedly fought against for as long as they could before finally necessity forced everyone to agree to them." Brent began to eat during the brief silence that they shared, quite satisfied with the pasta that he had ordered and had been delivered. He looked at it approvingly before taking another bite just as Sakarra managed ask him about his family.
"Yes I do. Five brothers and two sisters actually. I am the third oldest in my family. One older brother and sister. My older sister got married just before I shipped off to basic training, and my older brother, the one who will inherit the farm, is around four years older than me. My other sister is the youngest, the baby of the family. She is now..." Brent had to pause to think about it. He had not visited home since he had graduated from basic, it had been a little while. "She's probably just now turning eighteen. She'll be able to leave next year if she wants, and if she still has all of the attitude that she had when I was there I imagine she'll be off in a few months after the spring. Three of my young brothers have shipped out to Basic training for the Marine Corps. The other I think is now the 'black sheep' of the family, he moved to the city."
Brent took another bite of his food; it had been sometime since he had eaten a good pasta like this. After he had swallowed the bite down he spoke up again. "And what of you? Do you have any siblings?"
A brow had briefly shot up at the mention of the number of siblings, and there was such genuine affection in the way he talked about them, Sakarra could not help but allow the inward smile to show ever so slightly in a subtle change on her face.
"None in what you might consider the 'conventional' sense, no. However, Vulcan – and Betazoid for that matter – social structures are quite different from most human families I have encountered.
You may say that by your standard, I have no sibling, however on Vulcan I lived among twelve other children, seven of them directly related, ranging in ages very much like your own brothers and sisters. In addition to that, the family estate has always been home to a varying number of House and Clan members, which is quite similar to the Betazoid ways. The difference on Betazed is only that relatives usually maintain their own lodgings in close proximity to another rather than alternate between the ancestral house and other accommodations as Vulcans usually do."
And that was not even mentioning the permanent flux of friends and guests.
With a definitive sign of a smile tugging at her lips now, the young Vulcan returned her focus to Miss Betty's marvelous creation before it became too cold. Only when not a crumb was left on her plate, did she put down the fork and give the whiskey long look.
Speaking of family had reminded her of Olixinna and a certain incident involving terran Scotch, not to mention pineapples. Exhaling softly, the young woman reached for the glass.
Just a small indulgence.
It should not cause any major trouble.
Brent had polished off his food while paying attention to what Sakarra had been saying about her family. Interesting that she had no proper siblings but chances are she felt the same way about some of her friends and relatives as he did about his blood relatives. He was getting quite the anthropology lesson about Betazoid and Vulcan customs, and it was quite interesting to say the least.
After he swallowed the last of the shrimp and let out a content sigh he reached for the whiskey and had himself another drink. He had a full stomach, he was safe now. He finished off the small drink he had poured himself for the toast before casting a glance at her glass. "May I offer you a refill Sakarra?" he said while he still had the crystal bottle in his hand.
She debated whether this was wise, decided that no, it was not, and nodded anyways.
For reasons she could neither explain nor wanted to ponder right now, Sakarra felt comfortable enough around the young Marine by now that adding 'Slightly tipsy" to the list of states he had already observed her in did not seem a major issue.
Still, it would not do to become the lounge's main attraction this evening. Even if only Betazoids were prone to pick up on a Vulcan with not so ideally maintained mental shields, there were species with acute hearing – not to mention a human with good ears – who would easily recognize something off. Already, her voice held a mildly deeper, velvety undertone and the way she picked up the refilled glass was far from exhibiting her usual calm precision. One could nearly call it languid.
This would have to be the last one, no matter how agreeable the taste. Or how nice it was to … feel … relaxed like this.
Exhaling softly, the young woman glanced back at the stars tinkling on their backdrop of darkness.
"And is it what you had hoped for when you left, Brent? The 'Grand time' you mentioned?"
"Grand time... Yeah I'd say it has been. I've been out, seen the stars. Fought in a war, got promoted, been made an officer," Brent said with a bit of annoyance in his voice. He drank most of his drink he had just poured before swirling the remaining amber liquid in the glass. "I've met some interesting people and had some fantastic times out here," he said looking over into her eyes. "I'd say I had my grand adventure. So grand in fact I don't know if I want to go back," he said. He had been considering that for some time, but had never really spoken it to anyone else.
Brent finished off his drink and sat the glass down onto the table. "Tell me something. You said in the concert hall that you were gifted with a excellent tenor. Do you practice with it at all? Or have you done anything lately like that?" he asked curious about her musical habits.
She had slowly tilted her head to the side at the subtle undertone in his voice, and then at his mention of not knowing whether he wanted to return home. It was a strange sentiment for one who felt the absence of home like a permanent void, missing a warmth that could not be found anywhere else. But she also realized by his demeanor that this was a deeply personal matter and asked no question besides the silent one showing in her eyes.
"Practice?" she finally said, setting down her empty glass as well "On occasion, yes. Although rarely in the company of strangers." The latter was a bit of an understatement to be sure, it had been close to a year since anyone but Nikolai had heard Sakarra sing outside of her quarters. And the Russian hardly qualified as a stranger.
As was bound to happen, a few strands of dark curls had escaped the loose knot the moment Sakarra had abandoned her usual calm stillness and she blinked at the soft, warm tresses tickling the side of her face.
"Hm."
This would be difficult to fix.
"If you don't mind at some point in time I'd like to hear that," he said softly. He had been smiling ever since he had the second glass of whiskey. He felt good, happy. He was having a great time and hoped that she was as well. "As I told you last time I love to hear beautiful music, and if your voice is as heavenly as you say and look... Then I think it would be a treat to hear," he said slipping in the compliment without really noticing it till after the fact.
He noticed that her hair had fallen into disarray but decided that complimenting her on it would only be pointing out something that he thought was in error. Frankly he liked her like this, but he could tell that she was at the very least slightly perturbed by it. Out of instinct Brent reached over across the table, gently brushing the loose strands of hair back away from her cheek until it rested behind her ear. "There," he said softly.
Heavenly? Human tendency to exaggerate aside, it was a compliment and Sakarra acknowledged it with a graceful nod. Naturally, that sent a few more curls tumbling.
When he reached out to remedy the issue, the young Vulcan neither flinched nor blinked but simply held very still. Along with the sensation of pleasantly cool fingertips tracing lightly across her face and travelling towards an elegantly pointed ear came a brief impression of … happiness. And something else. But the thread was gone before Sakarra could make any sense of it, and it was bad enough she had allowed any mental connection, however brief and one-sided, without explicit permission.
Being a relaxed touch-telepath had its pitfalls.
"Thank you." She finally managed and slowly shook her head. "Perhaps the second glass was a 'bad idea' after all. Please accept my apologies; I could not prevent sensing that you find the current situation rather pleasant. Although I do share the sentiment, there is no excuse for the intrusion."
In the elegant posture of a Vulcan at ease, Sakarra leaned her chin lightly against folded fingers and her dark eyes rested on the young Marine "And I would not mind, Brent."
[To be continued …]
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer
USS Charon
