Posted by Ensign Elemirre Serinde (Engineering Officer) in San Francisco - Smugglers Cove Bar - One Last Drink

Posted by Captain Marceau Renault (Commanding Officer) in San Francisco - Smugglers Cove Bar - One Last Drink

Posted by Lieutenant Helena Laursen (Helm/Nagivation Officer) in San Francisco - Smugglers Cove Bar - One Last Drink
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
[snip]

He was tall but not tall enough to stand out in a crowd, and an average build, fit, but not athletic. It was his mop headed, curly, red-brown hair that set him apart. Not overly long so that it looked too messy, but also not cut short, and looking like the most he’d done to manage his curls was run a comb through it. Not one to go to a bar in uniform, he wore a blank solid colour olive green t-shirt made of a thin material and a pair of comfortable jeans and shoes. He picked a stool with a good view of the room, not paying attention to who he might be sitting next to, and ordered a water.

~ Captain Marceau Renault

“Sure thing, I got you,” the woman who had served Logan smiled at Marceau brightly, letting her eyes sit on the man for a moment as her hands found a glass and the water hose without her seeming to pay much attention to them. Placing the glass down in front of him on the bar, she leaned forward as if she was looking into his glass and dropped a small umbrella into it, sticking her tongue between her teeth for just a moment as she did so. The movement seemed to serve another purpose though as her eyes shifted to Logan after dropping the umbrella and the wide smile turned into a grin before she leaned back and turned away again, ready for the next patron.

After getting his water, a couple of civilian men behind Renault laughed over something someone said, but then Renault could hear their jibbing. “..Ohhh lookie at the fancy Fleeter there Bob! Thinks he’s so high and mighty posh drinking WATER at a BAR..” one said.

The one that seemed to be named Bob replied, “..No kidding Lu! I mean lordy me if I came into a BAR and ordered a WATER when the BAR was well known for its RUM I’d no doubt feel like a fool!” he laughed.

If either Fleeter looked back at the jiving pair they would see them both near the billiards pool table wearing workmen jeans, boots, and shirts. They probably were dock workers or something just coming off a shift having been here for a bit to get a bit tipsy so far.

GM CockRoach

Marceau ignored their digs. A man who didn’t drink was quite used to hearing others’ uninvited opinions on his habits. And they were probably trying to start something anyway. No reason to indulge them. But if someone was sitting next to him they might notice his grip on his glass of water tighten just a little bit.

~ Captain Renault

The movement was noticed, but Logans’ only reaction was to place his glass on the bar and pour another shot sized helping of the Captain Morgan into it. Suddenly he paused for a moment and frowned, the woman hadn’t given him an umbrella. Placing the bottle to the side he looked at his glass and considered what that might have meant. Details mattered.

“Saints preserve us! Someone’s found their voice. Keep it down over there. Some people are trying to concentrate here!” That came from a burly, dark haired, tall figure perched on a chair that was perhaps not so adequate for his weight. His tone was Italian. He wore an outrageous yellow t-shirt with a brazen suit jacket of orange and red. It may have come off okay if there weren’t occasional sequins flashing in the dim lighting.

“Don’t bother with them, Flo,” said his companion, a man of short stature, but trim and of distinct Asian or Polynesian descent. His dress was from head to toe in grey, from the turtleneck he wore to the loose trousers to the grey sneakers. He was focused on the table and spared barely a glance at the workers, and another over to the target of the butt of their jokes. “They’re just making fun of a designated driver. Kudos to him. The irony is he may be driving those lushes home. Hurry up. It’s your turn.”

Both were bent over the table where they were busily working on building a house of playing cards. Both had hair that was cut in what could only be military style.

NC Benji Borja and Florian Basile

The voices of the two men brought the bartender back in front of Marc and Logan, and she was clearly looking over the two and the men that had commented on the water drinker earlier trying to gauge of there was trouble brewing. Her eyes did linger on the two with the military haircuts, it was clear. The way their muscles did battle in their own game of who-can-rip-the-shirt-first made it hard not to notice them, but the sound of Logan’s voice near her as he leaned forward and spoke quietly so only she would hear seemed to take her attention away.

“Hey, how come I never got an umbrella?” Logan asked, pushing his glass closer towards her with the corner of his mouth in a slight smirk.

“Honey you never asked nicely or said please,” she said as she leaned in closer to him with her explanation. Instead of a smile, a single eyebrow rose instead as if inviting him to ask.

“You want me to beg? Is that it?” Logan asked her with a tone that implied resistance, although his eyes couldn’t hide his enjoyment with her game.

She shrugged her shoulders as if the ball was in his court and seemed like she was going to say something else, but at that moment her attention was taken again as the door to the bar began to open.

The door to the bar opened and brought with it strong gusts of wind and a low whistle as it speed through the alleys. With the wind that entered and swirled and created a chill was a tall, golden blonde haired woman with startingly green eyes stood framed in the door way. Her hair hung in waves down her back and moved like it was part of the wind. Her eyes scanned the bar taking in the atmosphere immediately. She swayed and sauntered across the room toward the bar in rhythm to the music the heels of her boots clicking to the bass beat. Black leather pants and a deep v-neck cotton tank, was overlaid with a copper colored bomber jacket. A silver studded belt rested on the curve of her hips and a long chain, dangling a smokey quartz pendent almost disappeared into the neckline of her shirt.

She leaned crossed forearms on the bar, her fingers tapping to the music, and she swayed on the spot. She grinned at the woman behind the bar, “Water on the rocks, and don’t forget my tiki umbrella.” She looked at the man to her left and then to the right at Marceau and winked at him. “Alright boys, I’m here now the party can start.”

Lt Laursen, pilot

Looking at Laursen, Logan gave her a friendly nod and smile in greeting such as a stranger did to another at a bar. It was friendly, but not familiar, at least Logan thought it wasn’t. Maybe he looked at Laursen a moment too long as when he turned his eyes back to the bartender, she pointedly looked away from him. “Sure thing, coming right up,” the woman serving them nodded with that same bright smile, but focused her attention on the drink. Logan hadn’t missed the way her eyes had lingered on the blonde woman with the eyes and noted the way she had then checked the three of them, clearly assuming that the woman knew Kelleher as well as Marc because of the way she addressed them, although Logan had no idea who she was or if she even knew Marc who was clearly still in the dark that Logan was beside him.

“Here you are, enjoy it. Water seems popular tonight!” The bartender grinned at Laursen as she dropped an umbrella into her drink, then turned to look at Logan, her eyes turning from the teasing look they held earlier now to a look that was clearly judging him and, was that a challenge in her eyes? Because of the arrival of the confident blonde bombshell? As the woman walked away Logan sighed, looking at his umbrella’less glass.

Marceau was friends with both the people sitting on either side of him now, Lieutenant Kelleher to his right and now Laursen to his left. Though he had yet to notice it was Logan to the right of him. “Helena, you made it! Finished your paperwork, I take it?” He said with a smile, happy to have something besides his water to talk about.

~ Captain Renault

Helena picked up her water and turned, leaning her back against the bar and grinning at him. “I told you I would. Besides, despite what the shinny brass thinks there isn’t much to report on a direct run from Titan to Earth with a single passenger. Unless they want me to give the specifics of making asteroids sing. And a magician never tells her secrets.” She was stopped from saying more by the chirping of Renault’s comm.

No sooner had Renault’s words left their mouth when their communicator in their pocket chirped.

Once answered, a male voice came through, =/\= Good evening Captain Renault, this is Lieutenant Dainly at Starfleet HQ. I am contacting you because Commodore Samson requests your presence at his office in 30 minutes. Do you confirm? =/\= He asked.

GM CockRoach

Marceau stepped out quickly to answer the call. =^= Confirm. I’ll be there.=^= Then he headed back in and returned to his seat.

OOC: Moving the orders to a new thread so people can keep going in the side sim.

~ Captain Renault

Helena watched him resume his seat. “Mystery travel orders, mystery comm calls, what ever have you gotten yourself into, Marceau?” she teased.

Lt Lauren, pilot

“We will see, non?” Marceau commented, smiling a little. “In half an hour.” He thought a moment, “It must be urgent if it cannot wait until tomorrow.”

~ Captain Renault

The duo were hunched over the growing house of cards when the door opened and the wind gusted. Moments later, Benji was left with a card in his hand he was yet to place while the rest had fallen like a .. well, house of cards.

They both looked at the source who was angling toward the designated driver fellow. Leaning back in the creaking chair, Florian stretched and strained the already strained red and orange blazer that utterly clashed with anything at all in the bar. Florian shook his head. “Would you look at that,” he said to Benji, and gestured toward Laursen. “Look at what she’s wearing. Don’t they have any standards in this place?”

Benji looked at her. Then looked again. That pendant did look like it needed rescuing before being lost forever. Then he looked at Florian. Then he looked at his jacket. “Flo ..” he began, when a movement caught his eye. The fellow who was the butt of the joke was pulling out his comms.

“There, you see. Designated driver’s got a call. Picking up someone.”

Florian watched him go. “Another game?”

Benji looked at the chaotic pile of cards that had been their best run for a while. Sighing he said, “Nah, we’re shipping out soon. New operation I hear. We’re going into space Flo. I’m sure of it. We should get back to barracks.”

Florian and Benji, MACO’s

As Marceau sat down again, the music changed to something a little quieter and slower, slightly. With the high tempo dance music residing it gave people a chance to refill glasses and take a breath. Another old song, a KSHMR song called Do Bad Well began to play. With the return of Marceau, the woman serving drinks looked up and nodded to Marc, then looked at Logan a moment. Her eyes then drifted to Laursen and the exact same locations that the two military types had been noticing and, pursing her lips slightly, looked back at Logan who tried to give her a slight smile but failed as she turned her head at the same moment.

“That moon you two were on must have been remote,” Logan said to the two beside him, now turning towards them fully and dropping the guise of anonymous patron. “I mean, if you haven’t seen the news over the last week, Marc, I’m not going to spoil anything for you. Not that I know anything to be honest.” He took a sip of his drink and grinned at the man, then looked at Laursen and gave her a smile in a proper greeting, bartending beauty be damned.

“Hi, I’m Logan Kelleher. Anonymous bar patron and old acquaintance of your buddy Marc here.” He gave Laursen a two fingered casual wave past Marc. “Nice tiki umbrella, by the way.” Logan pointed to the umbrella in her drink then looked at the bartender who had wandered closer again, clearly as if he was pointing out some kind of personal joke between them. In response, it appeared the woman was trying her best to look scornfully at him and not grin at the edge of her mouth.

Logan Kelleher