USS Saracen
Out for a drink - anyone welcom
Posted by Commander Balfor Kolar (XO/CSO) in Out for a drink - anyone welcom
Posted by Lieutenant Allison Scott (CMO) in Out for a drink - anyone welcom
Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Lyndzie Angel (Chief of Operations) in Out for a drink - anyone welcom
Posted by… suppressed (8) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The door of the dimly lit bar creaked open, and in stepped a man whose presence seemed more shadow than substance. Kolar wasn’t the most social man, made more obvious by the fact he was using ‘valuable’ holodeck time to create his own bar scene when there was a perfectly good social area on board.He moved with a deliberate calm, each step a whisper against the worn wooden floor, his gait put slightly off by the heavy six shot revolver he wore slung low on his hip. The murmur of conversation hushed for a moment as the regulars glanced up from their drinks, their curiosity piqued by this unexpected guest. With a slight nod to the bartender, the quiet man slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the neon signs above. He ordered a drink with a low, almost inaudible voice, his demeanor a blend of mystery and solitude. The bar resumed its rhythm, but the man remained an enigma, a silent observer in the tapestry of the night.
Lyndzie walked in and saw the Commander sitting by himself. She wanted to sit down and have a drink but was completely unsure of what to drink. She sat down 2 chairs away. “Bartender, a couple of shots of vodka.” She said. Lyndzie had noticed the commander again. “Oh, commander. Hello. Sorry if I am interrupting. I just thought I’d come down and have a couple of drinks.” She looked at him and said with a semi-smile.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Lyndzie Angel
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. SaracenKolar pivoted his body slightly, opening his hips and exposing his six-shooter. It would make his draw faster if he intended to pull out his weapon. “Two drinks for one person.” He rasped.
“That is a person who’s trying to forget their troubles or looking to cause some.” He looked her up and down, “you won’t be making an name drawing on me young lady.”
Kolar
She looked at him wondering what he’s talking about. “Commander? Are you okay?” She asked him.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Lyndzie Angel
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. Saracen“You come into my town and my bar, and you ask me if I’m alright?” He nodded back to the door, “we have a pretty good dentist in town, he doubles as our doc… maybe he can fix what you got going on. If not, its four bits to pull a tooth, two bits for a haircut.” He picked up his drink. “He’s a barber too.”
Ally walked into the room and let out a laugh. “Why do all men love westerns,” she teased moving across the space to where Kolar and Angel were standing. Ally might have been teasing about the motiff however that did not mean she was not partaking in the design of the space. She wore a pale blue dress that covered herself from wrist to ankle. A black belt accented her waist that matched her black boots. On her head, Ally wore a large black hat typical of the era with band of material contrasting the hat in the same color as her dress. The white gloves on her hand matched the racy white lace that poked out at the hem of the dress and around her neck line.
“Ma’aam” Kolar said not unpolitely.
“I can tell you that this little number,” she twirled in so that the skirt flared out a bit, “was exactly what my father thought I should have worn to prom.” Moving to the bar she ordered a sasparilla before nodding at the XO. “Mister Balfor,” she said with a teasing twang. “Miss Angel,” she greeted Lyndzie. “How are ya’ll doing this fine day.”
Ally Scott CMO
“”I’m not sure that this tavern is the right place for a lady to sully her shoes in. But I offer you a sasperilla, if you fine the whiskey rot gut not to your liking.”
Kolar
“That would,” Ally said pulling a bar stool around to take a seat but finding that she could not sit down. Few people thought about what it was like to wear clothes from a different era. This was especially true if you were a woman. Ally was as toned and fit as the rest of the Starfleet officers however in the spirit of the holodeck she adorned two things that were not visible to the naked eye: a corset and a hoop skirt. Both seemed fun to dress up in when she was in her room. It gave her a waist that was insanely small and perfect posture. The hoop skirt let her dress float about and showed a hint of white lace from her crinoline skirt. Now however, Ally was realizing things were a bit more problematic.
Adjusting the chair Ally again tried to sit but could not bend at the waist or the knees. “I…uh,” Ally abandoned the traditional way of sitting and tried to approach the barstool from the side. Sliding on it was not as easy either. Seeing the brass rail at the bottom of the bar, Ally stepped up and dropped her butt into the seat with a plop. The spacing in the wire hoop skirt finally let her bend her knees. Happy with her place sitting now, Ally let out a breath with a small smile. “Maybe I deserve that sasparilla now,” she joked.
Ally Scott
DaVinci had heard rumors from the crew, something like a “Western” going on in the holo-deck. Having grown up on a horse ranch in Wyoming, this could be right up his alley, as well as showing his crew what a “real” cowboy was like.
Stepping into the deck, he was taken aback by the sights and sounds coming from the saloon in front of him. Before entering, he said to the computer, “Costume, Clint Eastwood, A Fistful of Dollars”, hoping the holodeck could recreate it. A few moments later, DaVinci was chewing on a cigarillo, checking the six-shooter holstered on his hip, and positioning the pancho on his shoulders.
As the doors swung open, the captain stepped in, spurs jangling from his boots. . . . .
“Colter,” Ally hopped down from her seat. It was nice when the staff got together outside of duty hours. It was not that rare but rare enough. The second her feet hit the ground, Ally let out a small groan. She was going to be in the same boat the second she tried to sit down again. Reaching behind her, Ally tried to gracefully re-seat herself but again it was anything but graceful.
He paused and watched Ally struggle to get into a seat. He slowly approached her and said, “You need some help there, ma’am? I knew someone like you once, there was no one there to help.”
Captain Daniel “DaVinci” Colter
CO/CIO USS Saracen“I’m sure there is a leaning board somewhere.” The hoop skirt made it difficult to do anything but stand and perch. “As stylish as those things are, they aren’t very practical.” And often too colorful for living in an unclean environment like the west.
“Um yes,” Ally laughed. Lifting her hands up, Ally started to laugh. “It’s been a while since someone lifted me into a chair.” She had little doubt the man could not raise her the foot to get her back on the stool. She was also not worried about her pride really. She was not on shore leave and at least was wearing more than she typically did on shore leave.
For a second Angel didn’t know until now. I’ll take a couple of shots of whiskey. Honestly, whiskey is something I’ve been craving for.” She said with a slight smile. She was also gonna sit down but had noticed that the chairs were slightly taller than her.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Lyndzie Angel
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. SaracenTaking a sip of the sarsaparilla, Balfor ordered, Ally made a retching face. “Okay I will take a rot gut and sour,” she wrinkled her nose up and pushed the sarsaparilla away from her. “For some reason I thought it was going to taste like root beer but that is not even root beer’s half-cousin twice removed.”
Ally Scott CMO
Kolar’s normally moderately high pitched voice was deeper. “It seems like a party now.” He scanned the room.
Kolar
“Sir?” She started. “What do you mean?” She finished
Lieutenant Junior Grade Lyndzie Angel
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. Saracen