Posted by Lieutenant Commander Faye Calloway (Chief Intelligence Officer) in Introducing Rollin, Lounge Host Extraordinaire

Posted by Civilian Rollin (Lounge Host) in Introducing Rollin, Lounge Host Extraordinaire

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Faye Calloway (Chief Intelligence Officer) in Introducing Rollin, Lounge Host Extraordinaire
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(snip)

Lifting the glass to her lips, that first sip was almost intoxicating. It was subtle and bold all at once. One could say the same thing about her. She tended towards either not being clear enough or bashing people over the heads with her point. Middle grounds were not her forté. Still, as the sip slipped down her throat, Faye smiled softly. “Alright, pretty darn good. Definitely not boring, if more… sparkle than I’m used to. But I’ve been told it’s good for me to shake things up.” She lifted her brows. “I’m not great with change.”

Casting her gaze about the temple (formerly the Parthenon), she felt a quietness overtake her, especially as the stars streaked by. When she looked back at Rollin’, there was no bravado, just a matter-of-fact honesty. “I could have used someone like you around back in my freighter days. But I suspect you would have seen too much, seen right through me, and that would have scared me off. Still, it’s an interesting idea to mull over. What persons had they shown up at a different times in our lives would have altered our paths so drastically that our current present would not have happened?”

~Faye Calloway, CIO

He watched her sip—watched the flicker of surprise, the smile that followed, the subtle shift as something inside her unclenched. It wasn’t just the drink—it was the atmosphere, the invitation, the sense that someone had lit a candle in the dark and left the door open.

When she spoke—plain, honest, beautifully unvarnished—Rollin didn’t deflect. He didn’t dazzle. He simply was, and for a rare moment, the sparkle stepped aside.

He swirled his own glass slowly, silver flecks catching the ambient light.

“You know,” he said, voice soft but certain, “I’ve spent time on freighters, too.”

He let it linger. Watched her take that in. Watched her wonder.

Was she surprised? No. Not by him. While he was surprising, Faye understood that enough to no longer be surprised by a casual reveal.

“Not in a jumpsuit, heavens no. I didn’t work the freighters so much as…” His eyes danced, lips parting in a slow, decadent smile. “Let’s just say I was often a welcome distraction on long, lonely routes.”

Faye snorted. “I’ll bet you were.” She could have seen that need on some of her ships. But not for Faye. She had been too traumatized, too fragile to handle what someone like Rollin might have been willing to offer her. She sipped from her glass again.

Rollin let out a delighted little shriek-laugh, hand to his chest as if scandalized—and proud of it.

“Well,” he grinned, eyes sparkling, “what can I say?”

He leaned in slightly, his tone shifting from playful to genuine.

“I learned a lot in those years. About people. About the quiet ache of isolation. About how badly we all want to be seen.”

And then, softer still:

“But back then, I wasn’t this.” A gesture to the robes, the rings, the radiance. “I hadn’t figured out how to be… Rollin, yet. Not really.”

He tapped the bar lightly with one ringed finger, each sound precise.

“I didn’t always shine, Faye. I learned how to. Because the world didn’t do it for me.”

Oh how she understood that.

Then, smiling faintly:

“Which is why I think we’re here. Both of us. Now.”

He let the silence stretch—not awkward, not tense. Just… honest.

Silence didn’t bother her. Faye was honestly more comfortable wth silence than needless small talk. What her and Rollin were doing here could never be considered small talk. She was glad he understood the need to dispense with it.

Then his voice lightened, warmed again, but didn’t lose its depth.

“Timing’s a funny thing. A breath too soon, a blink too late, and we miss a connection that might’ve changed everything. But when the stars line up—really line up—someone shows up exactly when you’re ready to meet them.”

He raised his glass slightly in her direction.

“So here we are. You, the watchful storm. Me, the unapologetic sparkle.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Neither of us too early. Neither too late.”

Then, gently:

“To this version of us. The one that did meet.”

And he took a sip. As if sealing the accord.

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.

She lifted her glad and half nodded to him before taking her own sip. “I don’t go through the what if scenario as some sort of punishment or desire for masochism. For me and what I jokingly, and lovingly”-she smirked-“call my neurotic scientist brain, it helps remind of not only how far I’ve come, but each person who helped sculpt me into the woman before you. She exists now because of each moment of trial and fire, but also kindness and love.”

“That’s not neurotic. That’s sacred,” he said softly. “To name where you’ve been. Who helped carry you forward. That’s more than most can do. More than some ever learn how to.”

“I did the work,” she said simply. “Eventually.”

He swirled the last of his drink and gave her a half-smile—less sparkle now, more warmth.

“And I see it. In you. The fire, yes, but also the architecture. You didn’t just survive—you crafted yourself.”

Faye gestured around them with one hand. “This ship has had a rough go of it. The missions they’ve had to execute have been on a scale most officers never face.” A small chuckle ensued. “It’s probably why, despite still feeling a bit new here, I also resonate with the Athena. I think when you’ve been asked to do and endure the unthinkable, you get used to the need for it. Maybe you’re here to help remind us that we have to intentionally build opportunities for joy.” She shrugged. “Or something fluffy like that.”

~Faye Calloway, CIO

He tapped one nail against the rim of his glass. A small, thoughtful sound.

“I can feel that weight on this ship,” he admitted. “Even in the walls. Not trauma—exactly—but… memory. Residue. It’s the kind of place that needs tending in ways Starfleet doesn’t write procedures for.”

A beat.

“Maybe I’m here to pour drinks. Maybe I’m here to remind people they’re more than what the mission asks of them.”

He glanced at her sidelong, a touch of mischief returning to the corner of his smile.

“Or maybe I’m here to cause a bit of harmless chaos in the name of joy. But don’t tell Command—that’s between us.”

“Hey, Command and I have our own conflicting relationship. Toss you in the mix and who the hell knows what will happen,” she said, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered conspiratorially, leaning in just enough, “you say that like it isn’t the most tempting invitation I’ve had all week.”

Then, settling more fully into his seat:

“So, Faye Calloway… tell me something not in your file. Something small. A favorite song. A terrible habit. Something that makes you feel like yourself.”

Faye eyed him skeptically before downing another sip. He really didn’t know what he was asking, did he? Faye Calloway… do small? Ha!

He lifted his glass slightly in a lazy toast.

“I’ll trade you, if you like.”

He leaned in just slightly—not conspiratorial, but personal.

Faye rested her arm on the bar top, slouching into it a bit, relaxing into ‘story time’. After all, she did love story time. Both hearing and giving the stories.

“When I was seventeen, I lived for exactly one season in the engine alcove of a retired pleasure cruiser orbiting Betazed. Don’t ask how I got there—it’s a blur of bad decisions and one very persuasive Rigellian.”

He paused for effect, then softened.

“I used to sneak into the observation dome at night. No lights, no noise. Just me, the stars, and this old, cracked set of symphonic recordings someone had left behind.”

“There was this one piece—a cello solo, slow and aching—and every time I played it, I cried. Quietly. Every single time. No drama. No witnesses. Just… release.”

He glanced back at her with the ghost of that younger boy in his expression.

Oh how she knew that feling, and had seen it it in others. In one person in particular, evne though they had never spoke of it directly, even after all these years and their reunion.

“To this day, I still don’t know the name of the piece. I’ve never found it again. But I hum it sometimes when I’m alone.”

He smiled, a touch sheepish now.

“There. A terribly unmarketable truth. No robes. No rings. Just me. And a cello. And space.”

A beat.

“Your turn.”

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.

She breathed in and out. In and out. Part of it was giving his story space, since small or no, a personal revelation deserved that much at least.

Faye hadn’t agreed formally to the exchange but in her mind her staying to listen had been the moment of agreement. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “My mother is a gifted musician. And I don’t use the word gifted lightly. And her mother before her was as well. And while music seeps into me as well, I can’t play it. But I feel it. Like a heart beat. So I dance. Mostly hiphop styles. Especially pop n’ lock. That’s my groove. Take me to a club playing EDM and it’s like my skin comes alive and I inhabit the beat. No more, no less. So far, only my husband has seen me actually dance, but it’s a kind of freedom I can’t really describe. Other than that, the only dance I’ve done is with my best friend who was teaching me swing dancing before I left my last ship. But I haven’t been able to hear the music since I came here. Not yet anyway.” Faye was not a patient person, but with this it felt vital to wait till the compulsion took her properly, or else it would be wasted.

~Faye Calloway, CIO

Rollin didn’t speak right away.

He let the silence stretch, reverent and warm, as if her words had spun some gossamer thread between them—and he didn’t dare break it.

Then, quietly—his voice almost a hum:

“Hiphop and swing… darling, you contain multitudes.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, not dramatic this time—just present.

“That’s what I love about movement,” he said softly. “It’s all truth. No translation. No permission needed. Just feeling made visible.” A beat. “You don’t have to explain it. I saw it, just now. The way your face shifted. The way your body remembered. You still hear the music. Even if it’s quiet for now.”

Then, with a soft flicker of his old sparkle:

“And if you ever feel the urge to pop n’ lock near The Temple, I do hope you’ll allow me to bear witness. I promise not to faint. Though I can’t guarantee I won’t applaud.”

He offered her a wink—less flirty than fond.

“Besides, I’ve always believed the crew should see their command staff dance now and then. Reminds them we’re not just made of protocols and replicator rations.”

A pause, then quietly:

“I’m glad you told me.”

And he meant it. All of it.

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.