Things That Go Bump

Posted on Sat Nov 12th, 2011 @ 4:14pm by Lieutenant Commander Leto & Major Patrick Smith

Mission: In Our Time of Need
Location: Intel Offices/Promenade

* * *Intel Offices * * *

Nenita was pacing the office. Normally, Li's excursions were ass regular as clock work, mostly as a failsafe. She always gave Nita a time limit and if she as not back, Nenita and Nick went into action. Today, Nick wasn't here and while Nita herself would take on anyone bare-handed in defense of Li, Li did have Patrick with her. So, she decided to give it a little more time. It was on her 40th trip across the office that the doors finally opened.

Patrick walked in through the doors by himself Li having departed to her quarters after saying something about a talking spider... at least that's what Patrick thought she had said. Eyeing Nenita still mid pacing across the room he decided a humourous approach may help her, "If you keep that up you'll have walked a ditch into the carpet."

Nenita looked him up and down as usual and smiled. "Wouldn't be the first time. Where's Li?"

"Li went to her room. Something about a talking spider. Anyway sorry I'm late, I was to busy trying to piss off a vicious underworld gang leader." He walked over to the replicator and ordered a coffee watching as it materialized in front of him.

"I see you met Suresh. Tell me you didn't touch her?" Nita smiled a moment. "And if you are really sorry, I'll let you make it up to me."

Patrick sat down in a chair, his left leg underneath himself. For some reason he always found that more comfortable. "Squeezed her hand, suggested had I been drunk I'd have simply lifted her and then used the age old phrase, I guess a night cap is out of the question then. I think he took it rather well. An I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow."

That obviously surprised Nita. "I"m sure that flew over like a lead balloon. I'm amazed you still have a hand, he must be in a good mood. OR having Li withdrawals and decided to play nice." Patrick's last comment got a smile. "Will you now....I'm sure you can. Shift's over in a few anyway."

"So am I actually, but I think having that little bit of a marine look kind of helped." Patrick drunk some of his coffee. "This stuff never gets any better. Fancy going to get a real drink then?"

"Now that's an offer a gal can't refuse. You fancy nice or rowdy?" Nenita looked him over once more and decided once more he was a very pleasant sight indeed. She'd seen his shy exterior the night they met at the Nexus but if he had the guts to test Suresh's patience, that was proof there was a lot more beneath the surface. "You feel like getting rowdy, we can head to the Wormhole. I haven't seen a good fight in almost a week."

"Sure thing. Maybe some of Suresh's friends will come to play," he joked standing up and putting the half full coffee cup back into the replicator. "Do you need to get anything before we head down?"

Nenita started to spill the first thought that came to her mind but decided that perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Her eyes did glitter with a wicked look but all she said was, "I'm good."

"Excellent," he replied smiling before heading to the door, opening it and waiting for Nenita to head out.

------ Wormhole Bar ------

When they entered the Wormhole, a round of greetings went up for Nenita, along with several catcalls and whistles.

"Thank you, you're most kind," she said as she scanned the room. "In fact, you're every kind." That got a hoot of laughter as she took Patrick's hand, leading him through the crowd.

As he was lead through the crowd Patrick had the brief thought of being set up. Making their way to the bar Pat lent on the bench and called the barman over, "What you having?" he asked Nenita.

"Martini, Jomo, up and dirty." She perched on a barstool and turned to face Patrick. "Name your poison, honey. And in this place, that is sometimes closer to the truth than we like to think."

He looked about over his shoulder at the patrons and other parts of the bar, "I'd well believe that. I'll take a scotch if you have any." He sat on his barstool and turned about again to get a proper eye up of the crowd. "So Nenita how'd you manage to get yourself into this line of work?" It was always a mystery why someone choose intelligence. Thankfully in Pat's case it choose him.

"I got tapped at the Academy. A professor who got the idea early on that I have little fear of anything suggested it. Whether that's a good thing or bad I've never really decided. It's taken me some dangerous places and put me in some interesting situations, which are best left to when you and I sneak out of here and stagger home."

Patrick chuckled as he grabbed his drink which had appeared behind him. "You might be staggering but I plan to walk. I hold my drink rather well thanks to where I'm from. I always knew what I wanted to do even when I was growing up. I've in some pretty hairy situations during my testing days, especially during the live tests."

"I can imagine." She smiled and lifted her drink, taking a sip. "I commented once that you flyboys get the best toys, I stand by that."

"They so do and the seats in the Valkyries come with a pretty decent life raft to boot." He drained half his glass. "If we get a chance Maybe I'll take you out in a trip in my own ship. Do a bit of low level flying."

That got a soft laugh from Nita, and the brief thought crossed her mind that she could teach him a thing or two about flying and didn't even need a plane to do it. "You're on, sweets."

"Excellent," he replied with a smile draining the other half of his glass. "That stuff's too easy to drink. I doubt I'll be getting drunk on it any time soon."

"I hear you Irish boys have a little blood in your whiskey stream." Nenita smiled wickedly. "I bet I can find something that kicks a little harder."

"Yea we got whiwhiskeystead of milk at a young age and it just carries on. If you can find something stronger then lets go for it." He hadn't got hammered in a long time, purely because you can't fly with any alcohol in you. Now he had an excuse.

"Jomo come here," she motioned to the dreadlocked bartender.

"What can I get for you pretty lady?" He grinned, a massive one that seemed to spread from ear to ear.

"The Irish lad thinks I can get him hammered...well with alcohol anyhow. Care to prove him wrong?"

"Coming right up." He moved away and all Nita did was give Patrick a smirk.

"I'd nearly be tempted to bet you'd couldn't. But I could end up losing rather a lot if it's good stuff."

"All depends on your definition of loss, doesn't it?" She turned back to the bar as Jomo appeared with two short glasses bearing a purple liquid that seemed to glow slightly. "Don't worry about the short glasses. Taller ones drained at one time have been known to cause...heart issues. Cheers." She raised her glass to him, drained it, then gasped aloud as she slammed the glass back to the bar.

Nenita gasping at the liquid when she knew what it was gave Patrick concern for a moment. Then he remembered he was Irish and picked the glass up and down it in one. "Bloody hell what is that stuff?! Not surprised a larger glass would give heart issues," he exclaimed coughing a bit to clear his throat. "Pretty good all the same."

"Start the timer Jomo." Her voicet was husky from teh burn of the drink. "When you hear the bell, Irish, he'll bring the next round, and repeat. Pretty soon you'll be hearing a lot of other things...like angels singing, voices, the sound of my shoe hitting the wall..."

"Probably. But you'll be hearing them first," he said winking slyly at her as Jomo brought over the next round. "I'll go first this time." And with that he picked up the glass held it to his lips and in one smooth run drank the lot again. "Burns a little less each time."

She watched him and with a smile. Oh but she was in so much trouble. Reaching for her drink, she raised the glass. "Here's to trouble. Bring it on."

"If you like most of the girls I know you'll be in lots of it. You lot tend to be fairly light when it comes to serious booze. I wonder do they do proper beer on this chunk of metal. Haven't had any in ages." He missed his home beers like all Irish mean. But whatever this mystery drink was still held the kick for now.

Jomo grinned at Patrick. "You in serious trouble, mon. Dis girl wrote de book." He set round three in front of them with a smirk.

"Here's mud in your eye, gorgeous." Nita lifted her glass and just as she got it to her lips, a strange vibration ran the length of the Wormhole. It was enough to slosh the liquid from the glass and toss her right into Patrick.

Patrick was lifting his own glass when he felt the rumble followed by Nenita falling into him whilst simultaneously feeling his heart drop. Help Nenita standing again and putting both their glasses down on the counter he looked around at the panic creeping across the room "Please tell me what wasn't what I think it was."

"I don't know but I think we need to go check up on just what 'it' was. "We'll be back Jomo," she called as she took Patrick's hand and started to the door. "Give the natives a free round, they'll forget all about it." She got a wave in reply.

The pair set off Nenita leading the way whilst Patrick's brain kicked in. "That felt like an explosion to me. Is there anything big down this way? Like another club or something?"

They waded out into the Promenade, where people were spilling out of business all along all the levels. The volume level of the conversations was much higher than usual, and she raised her voice to be heard. "This area is 13 decks, everything from restaurants, to clubs, to medical centers, to escape pods. It could be anything. Unless it came from further away, and since it's have to be a hell of an explosion to be felt this far, I really don't like the thought of that. I suggest security first, to see if we can be of help."

"Agreed. There's no use running anywhere if we don't know where the hell we are supposed to be running too." He hoped noone had been seriously injured. Explosions could wipe out entire families.

---------------

Lieutenant Patrick Smith
Not yet drunk

&


Lt.(jg) Nenita Quigley
Still Wearing Her Shoes