Posted by Lieutenant Mykl Najjar (CNS) in Side Sim: Downtime - 18 Forward - Buddy and the Breen

Posted by Ensign Tak (Science Officer) in Side Sim: Downtime - 18 Forward - Buddy and the Breen

Posted by Lieutenant Mykl Najjar (CNS) in Side Sim: Downtime - 18 Forward - Buddy and the Breen
Posted by… suppressed (8) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Buddy had kicked his boots up on the edge of the low table, one arm slung over the back of the lounge couch like he was holding court. A half-empty glass of synthehol fizzed gently in his grip—something neon and citrusy that Ree’za had dared him to order. The other members of Buddy and the Breen were scattered nearby like the remains of a musical explosion: Jax drumming the edge of his seat with a pair of replicated chopsticks, T’Lex cross-legged with a glass of Vulcan mineral water (untouched), and Ree’za currently trying to balance a peanut on her nose.

She was winning.

The band was laughing—loud, unfiltered, slightly disruptive to the otherwise mellow vibe of 18 Forward. A few tables away, a pair of junior officers watched them over the tops of their drinks, whispering behind their hands.

“…I’m just saying,” Jax was insisting, “if we play that third verse at warp nine, the crowd will go into cardiac arrest. And that’s the kind of memorable performance I’m aiming for.”

“Bolian medical liability clauses do not cover rhythmic aneurysms,” T’Lex replied without looking up.

Ree’za let the peanut fall off her nose and into her mouth without blinking. “Maybe you don’t want a mosh pit in zero-G, but some of us have vision.”

Buddy just grinned and shook his head. “You’re all insane. I missed this.”

The lounge doors parted with a hiss. A Bolian crewman—young, fresh-faced, ensign redshirt—stepped in with a casual stride. Then he saw them.

He froze.

Eyes widened.

Jaw dropped.

Then he squealed. Like, full-volume, actual squeal—a sound somewhere between a warp core breach and a giddy hypospray malfunction.

“Ohmygod it’s really you it’s them it’s you—BUDDY AND THE BREEN!”

Conversations halted. Glasses stopped mid-air. A few heads turned.

Ree’za blinked. Jax choked on his drink. T’Lex raised a single eyebrow, which for him was practically flailing.

The Bolian bolted forward, clutching a battered PADD. “I have your whole album downloaded—twice, just in case one corrupts—please will you sign it? All of you? I named my pet sehlat ‘Chicken à la Rage’—please—”

Buddy, caught mid-sip, glanced at his bandmates and tried very hard not to laugh. His smile broke through anyway, wide and genuine.

He set down his glass, took the PADD, and leaned in. “What’s your name, crewman?”

The Bolian made a strangled squeak. “Tren! Ensign Tren Dovel! I—this is the best day of my life!”

Ree’za the PADD and signed it with a dramatic flourish, before passing it around. “You’re our first groupie, Tren. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jax was already teaching him the chopstick drum beat.

Buddy passed the signed PADD back and gestured to the empty seats around them. “Hope you’re not in a rush, Tren. Stick around.”

He glanced around the lounge, then raised his glass toward the other tables.

“And if anyone else wants in… we don’t bite.” He side-eyed Ree’za. “Except her.”

She bared her teeth. T’Lex finally took a sip of his water.

The music wasn’t playing yet, but the vibe was already loud.

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

Tak stepped into 18-forward, a small ukulele-like instrument hanging from a loose strap and tucked around their back. They gave a curious glance to the security officer and his little band, but focused their efforts on getting to the bar.

Tak being a relatively regular visitor, the bartender had installed a small staircase leading to a higher-than-usual barstool for the diminutive scientist. “A Malibu Sunset, please,” they requested, settling down in their raised barstool and flipping the Tor’she around to start playing a soft and nostalgic melody. There was enough other sounds going on in the lounge that it wasn’t too disruptive, but one of the other science ensigns slid a little closer and started chatting with the pipini while they played.

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

The chaos around the table was approaching critical mass.

Jax had turned the chopsticks into a percussive teaching tool, beating rhythm patterns on Tren’s arm in time with an imaginary drumline. Ree’za was now balancing two peanuts, one on each ear, while T’Lex explained—mostly to himself—how sound waves in synthehol can theoretically alter the perception of taste.

Buddy leaned back with a grin, watching his crew of lovable lunatics with the kind of fondness that only came from shared gigs, burnt amps, and midnight songwriting sessions with a replicator malfunctioning in F sharp.

But then something else caught his attention.

Off near the bar, framed by the ambient lounge lights and the slow lull of conversation, was something softer. Quieter. A melody—plucked, not shouted. A little thread of music winding its way through the chatter and laughter. His eyes found the source: the Pipini ensign he’d read about but had yet to meet. Perched on a high barstool, a tiny instrument in their hands and a drink beside them glowing like a sunrise.

Buddy’s smile lingered, then softened.

He pushed off the couch and stood, offering a quick “Don’t blow anything up while I’m gone” over his shoulder—mostly aimed at Jax and Ree’za, who were now discussing the physics of a triple-stage stage dive.

He crossed the room, hands in his pockets, and approached with a casual tilt of the head.

“Hey,” he said gently, nodding to the instrument. “That’s a beautiful sound. Didn’t mean to interrupt, just wanted to say… nice playing.”

He paused, then added with a slightly sheepish grin, “Y’know, I’m used to loud, fast, and borderline illegal decibel levels—but that? That was beautiful.”

He let the compliment settle, then glanced down at the barstool next to Tak’s. “Mind if I sit?”

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

Tak continued playing without interruption, even as they replied. “Thank you. I like coming here to the lounge, it is good for inspiration.” They nodded towards the barstool, “Feel free to sit.”

The counselor and her companion entered 18 Forward together. Pic, who always wore civilian clothing, was dressed in a blue shirt with no collar and black pants.
Beside him, Mykl wore a gold bralette and harem pants in black and gold. Her hair was down and she looked relaxed. They found a table and sat down for an early dinner. As she looked around, she noted the charged air and the amount of people who were there. Anyone who noticed them would see Pic using his hand language with Mykl and her answering him with words. At the same moment, they both laughed while she slapped his arm playfully as if to note that whatever he said was too much.

Lieutenant Mykl Najjar
CNS USS Ark Angel

They glanced across the engineer’s features, noting the cut of his hair, then glancing over at the table he had left. It triggered a slight memory, of their usually quiet and shy daughter speaking at length and with uncharacteristic energy about a group of rowdy musicians she’d encountered. It made them pause in their playing for a moment to look at him a little more thoughtfully. “Are you, by any chance, Buddy?”

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

Buddy eased down onto the barstool, posture casual but alert, the way one does when trying not to seem like they’re trying. The lounge buzzed behind him—someone hit a minor chord on the jukebox and immediately got booed by Jax, who was now conducting a one-man campaign for “volume-based diplomacy.” Tren had abandoned any pretense of dignity and was playing human drums for Jax’s lessons. T’Lex appeared deeply offended that no one had asked to taste his vibrating synthehol. Ree’za was now balancing three peanuts, the third on her nose.

Chaos. Comforting chaos.

But here, at the quieter end of the bar, Tak’s instrument had left a lingering hum in the air—one that made Buddy feel like his boots were finally planted on something steady.

He was just about to answer Tak’s question when he saw movement across the room. His eyes flicked instinctively toward the door.

The counselor.

Mykl Najjar, poised and vibrant, laughing mid-conversation with a man Buddy assumed must be Pic, Protector of the Princess—the one with the silent speech and the sharp eyes. They were halfway through what looked like a story and a joke in one, moving like a synchronized duet. Something about the sight pulled at him—like seeing a familiar skyline from orbit. Not urgent. But personal.

He felt it like a chord change in his chest. A desire to go to them. Just for a moment. Just to say hey. Just to—

But he didn’t move.

Tak was still looking at him. Still waiting.

So Buddy blinked once, offered a softer breath through the nose, and turned back with a grin.

“Yeah,” he said, voice warm. “I’m Buddy.”

He scratched lightly at the back of his neck, where his uniform never quite fit right. “Security. But don’t hold that against me.”

In the background, a loud thwack echoed across the room followed by a cheer—someone had fallen off a table. Buddy didn’t even turn to check. He just smiled faintly and added, “Don’t worry, they bounce.”

Ensign Cullum ●
Security Officer
U.S.S. Ark Angel

After asking their question, and seeing the man pulled into his own world for a moment, Tak continued their song, letting the chaos around them direct the flow of the notes. It was a chaotic scene, but Tak turned it into something melodious. Energetic, yet soothing. Perhaps it was the softness of the instrument itself that made it that way.

“I thought as much. My daughter was quite excited to have met you and your little band. She looks up to you,” Tak’s face was still pointed at the little stringed instrument, but their eyes looked at Buddy. “I’m a scientist, no holding departments against anyone in my world. Security is a vital position on a ship like this. Plus, I did a stint as a fighter pilot on the Memorial. I know the life of risking your life for the ship… I couldn’t maintain it. I got too worried about the kids, what it’d be like for them to lose another parent. I couldn’t do that to them.” Despite the happy scene around them, Tak’s music got slow and melancholic for a moment before they shook their head and picked up the energy in the room again. “Regardless, I admire security for being able to do that kind of thing full-time. You live a risky life. I suppose being in a rock band, you’re aware of that.”

The music seemed to notice the counselor and her companion, as Tak somehow plucked two strings at once in a little dual progression. “Mykl!” they called, stopping the music for just long enough to reach a hand up and beckon to their fellow officer and potential future friend.

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

Sitting at a table with Pic, Mykl heard her name called from a moderate distance. Dark eyes scanned the bodies in the room looking for the one who wanted her attention. At the bar, she saw the Pepini, Tak, waiving in her direction. Smiling, she raised her hand in answer and spoke a few words to Pic before rising and walking over to the bar.

“Hello Tak, how are you?” Then her eyes landed on Buddy. “This is a lucky break. Ensign Cullum, nice to see you again.” The smile on her face lit a spark in her eyes as she was truly pleased to see the two of them. “What are you both up to?” Meanwhile, she tried to catch the bartender’s attention to order drinks and food for her and Pic.

Lieutenant Mykl Najjar
CNS USS Ark Angel

BUMP

Lieutenant Mykl Najjar
CNS USS Ark Angel

[sorry, ive been waiting for buddy to post]

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel

OOC: I was too, but we can have Tak and Mykl interact.

IC: The bartender finally acknowledged them and moved to where the three were gathered. “Hi, I’m actually sitting over at that table.” Mykl pointed to where Pic sat waiting for her return. “We would both like steak, medium rare and a baked potato with everything on it. To drink, a red wine would be nice.” He gave her a nod and turned to find their server to transfer the food order for them and then began filling the wine request. It only took a moment before he placed two stemmed glasses on the bar in front of the counselor.

Lieutenant Mykl Najjar
CNS USS Ark Angel

“Ah, sorry to distract you from your table. I was excited to see a familiar face. My ramp doesn’t move, so this is the only place I can sit,” Tak patted their barstool with a smile. “Have you been well?”

Ensign Tak
Science Officer USS Ark Angel