[USS Charon, Eris Deck]
"Sooooo you're saying there's nothing to it? I don't have to go and drown myself under the Janaran Falls?"
"That would be unwise, Mr Grax."
"What, the drowning? Not if my heart's broken it isn't."
"I was in fact referring to your placement of the t'an, however since you pointed it out, the drowning would be as well."
"That doesn't answer my question. And why shouldn't I put the little stick over there? It makes sense."
The Betazoid resumed his study of the silvery jumble resting on a tiny, dark red pedestal and cocked his head. He couldn't sense a blasted thing from the beautiful lady sitting opposite from him, except the characteristic steady background noise of a Vulcan in restful mode, but she was probably only wanting to be helpful. Every time he tried to get those sticks to do what she made them do, an even bigger mess resulted from it. Elementary spatial harmonics. Chess was a child's game compared to this stuff. Leave it to Vulcans to come up with something as wicked as Kal-toh.
"And for the eight-hundredth time, it's Merl." He finally placed the little silvery rod at random and was utterly surprised when the game made a humming sound and changed –not into what he had hoped it would, but at least it didn't splutter with contempt like the last dozen times.
"It is a common tendency to attempt for balance. However, the game requires one to seek order within chaos which is somewhat more difficult."
"Duh."
"Pardon me?"
She had picked up another one of the things she called t'an and studied the game with an expression he would have called quiet amusement if he'd been forced to put a name to it. Not that her face gave a damn thing away, but there were always those eyes, black as those of any Betazoid and just as fathomless deep. And to him at least they were familiar, and completely alien at the same time. Like on the surface of the Alarmante Sea, you could make out shifts and changes, light reflecting of gentle waves or storm clouds darkening the waters. But trying to look underneath that surface was damn near impossible. Not to mention you ran the risk of drowning.
"Never mind." The young Betazoid propped his chin on folded hands and just contended himself with watching what she was going to do next. At least she hadn't shooed him away when he'd asked if he could join her, and the game was interesting in a 'tie your brain into knots' kind of way.
"But you can't tell me you don't like the guy."
"Mr Grax…"
"Merl. And no, I didn't pry, what do you take me for, Deities have mercy. But give me some credit here, it's not like you've ever been seen going out with anyone but Dicari and HE is still seeing that engineer, I got that on good authority."
"Mr Gr.. Merl. The capacity for gossip on this ship never ceases to astound me."
"You're evading."
Slowly, a slanted eyebrow climbed and without answering, the Vulcan placed the silver gamepiece in a precarious position on top of two others. Naturally, the jumble hummed happily and part of it resolved into a recognizable shape.
"Your move."
She picked up the terracotta colored coffee mug and once more Merl could see an ever so subtle shift in her demeanor when those luminous black eyes briefly scanned the lounge. Funny, you'd assume she'd be happy to have others of her kind around and actively try to spend time with them, but if anything, she seemed to avoid them. In a polite way for sure, and the other pointy ears were just as perfectly courteous, doing their little bows and floating on, but the Betazoid had been keeping an eye on this particular Vulcan for too long not to notice. There were clouds gathering on the horizon.
Heaving a little sigh, he resigned himself to the fact he wouldn't get an answer – at least not from her – and idly toyed with the little stick in his hand. Just when he thought he had found a good spot to put it, a shadow fell over their secluded little table and Merl made a shooing motion with his hand. "We're good here, thank you dear."
That's when he saw the clouds move in.
Looking up, he saw not the holowaitress he had assumed was disturbing their pleasant little conversation, but a tall Vulcan, clad in trousers and a tunic of such dark blue they might as well have been black and in turn hair so black it had an almost indigo shimmer to it.
"It never rains, it pours."
Recipient of two raised brows this time, Merl decided to stand his ground but was outmaneuvered by a helpful hand gesturing towards the Kal-toh game. "Your theory is logical. However, may I suggest adjusting your angle by twenty-one point four degrees?"
Despite the fact that the young woman was giving him a stare that would have sent Merl running for the nearest escape pod, the male with the aquiline features and most amazing violet eyes simply bowed, quite a bit deeper than the others if the Betazoid was any judge, and continued on in a low, even tenor towards the woman sitting suddenly very straight on the plush sofa. "Voran cha'Muroc. Lhat'vay-tor odu pudor'tha nash-veh."
That was a new one. She actually seemed taken aback for a split second there, but Merl doubted he would have caught it had he not been watching so intently. Yep, definitely a downpour. He'd have to be an idiot not to see that this guy was not in the least interested in the game. Vulcans. Nothing but trouble.
"Na'yhfa-tor nohk'es t'du." Her low, resonant voice jerked Merl out of his glowering. Oh, he knew damn well the authoritative sound of a Betazoid lady telling someone in polite and friendly ways to take a hike. But this was different. She was so polite it cut like a blade and her posture was that of miffed royalty. It should have sent the man scrambling, and made Merl deliriously happy. But damn if the guy didn't just give another of those sweeping bows and even though the Betazoid could not sense it, he could tell there was an emotion floating just beneath the surface, noticeable but completely out of reach.
"Nam-tor itar-bosh nash-veh, t'sai."
"Excuse me." The young Betazoid saw the storm clouds gathering in jet black eyes and could almost hear the distant rumbling of thunder "Not that I want to interrupt your pleasant little banter here," once more, Merl found himself at the receiving end of two looks which he would have found hilarious under different circumstances, because after all he had managed to elicit at least some sort of reaction from not one, but two Vulcans, however subtle "but you said turn the little bugger, right? Like this?"
Smiling innocently, he twisted the silvery stick between his fingers and set it down with an audible click. Much to his delight, the game hummed in response and part of an octagon appeared.
"Indeed." There was definitely something in that deep tenor now, and the Betazoid's finely honed senses identified it as a shred of amusement, and a lingering hint of challenge. He wasn't quite sure what he had gotten caught up in here, or if he was acting smart by poking his nose at the male looming over their table. The 'I'm just a harmless, peaceful Vulcan' air the man was working so hard to project didn't fool Merl for a second, but after all was said and done, Sakarra was his crewmate and no Betazoid ever lacked for courage when needed.
But it was the young woman with the tightly braided and coiled hair who picked up the gauntlet.
Her eyes never leaving the other Vulcan's unmoved features, holding that sharp, violet gaze with an unreadable expression on her upturned face, she picked up another t'an and held it hovering over the game for several seconds.
And without ever looking at the table or saying a word, she let the silvery gamepiece slide between two others with the lightness of a feather. To Merls astonishment and utter glee, the shape he had created earlier fell into complete disarray while on the other side two half-spheres formed, shimmered, and solidified.
"Na'shte, t'sai." Keeping his twilight eyes fixed on the young woman in return, the Vulcan bowed again, apparently yielding the round to her. Merl grinned wide enough to give a Denobulan a run for his money and then breathed a tiny sigh of relief when the guy finally made a polite and elegant exit.
"Care to tell me what that was all about?"
She had picked up her coffee again, with her beautiful and familiar graceful ease, eliciting another sigh from the young Betazoid.
"An exquisitely polite introduction, Mr Grax."
"Merl. And you're a dreadful liar."
The Look she gave him was nowhere near the 'Run for your life' variety, but he still cleared his throat before waving his hand in an appeasing gesture.
"Alright, sorry. No lie, I'm sure. But that's how you people do it, hm? You give a tidbit of truth and leave the rest unsaid. Quite a bit of 'rest' to be sure. Did you ever think someone might feel their intelligence insulted, though?"
Her hands wrapped around the mug, she seemed to give this considerable thought and then nodded slowly.
"Yes, the thought had occurred. However, have you considered it would require a significant amount of time to explain the subtleties of Vulcan social interaction to an outworlder?"
"What's to explain? He hit on you and you told him off."
The Betazoid could have sworn she was hiding a laugh behind that serene face.
"It is slightly more complex than that, … Merl. Still, while most simplified, you assessment has merit. Your turn, I believe."
"Ah, if only one day you said that and meant it."
This time, the blank look directed at him had nothing to do with Vulcan equanimity, and the Betazoid couldn't help but chuckle. "At least I got my answer in a way I guess. You DO like the Marine. Stop giving me that glare please, I'm shutting up now. Really, I am. You think if I put that stick over here the game will finally explode?"
"A distinct possibility."
"Thought so."
[End Log]
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer
&
Lt Merl Grax
Exobiologist
USS Charon
&
Voran
NPCs apb I-Chaya
