You're Rather Peculiar

Posted on Wednesday February 6th, 2019 @ 03:33 hours by Canaan Serene & Alexandria Farron

Mission: Pixie Dust
Location: Deck 2, Mess Hall
Timeline: 0828 MD01
1591 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

There was a hustle and bustle throughout the mess hall as members of the crew filtered into the cabin, intent on filling their stomachs with something to eat prior to the start of first watch. The atmosphere was relaxed and informal, permeated with a cacophony of conversation, laughter, and lively debate. Nearly all of the crew were new to the Fawkes, yet the unfamiliarity did little to dissuade from introductions as they pulled up a chair to a table filled with new faces. Inevitably, those serving in the same section or department gravitating toward one-another; it was inevitable, really, yet with a crew of nearly twenty, it wouldn't take long before they all grew to know one another.

Canaan had pulled his order from within the replicator and turned to face the open seating arrangement. Most tables were filled, seats staying empty for no more than a few seconds at a time; those who had finished their meal would vacate their seat, giving it up to a crewman who hadn't, yet remaining while continuing in the conversation and nursing a cup of coffee.

Traversing the hall, the greenhorn nodded to a passing Andorian, her blue antenna dipping with the nod of her head. He offered a friendly greeting to several others, wishing them a good a morning as eyes scanned for an empty chair. As luck would have it, a Ferengi rose with tray in hand, pushing in the chair before moving off.

Canaan moved with deliberate purpose, pulling out the chair and falling into its seat with a small bump to the tabletop. The table was small, accommodating two occupants at a time. So intent had he to find a place to sit, that Canaan hadn't immediately noticed the young woman sitting opposite him.

"Good morning!" He greeted brightly, extending a hand toward the woman who appeared vaguely familiar.

Alexandria didn't immediately reply. So intent on her breakfast, she hadn't realized anyone was speaking to her. Plus she had the hood of her charcoal grey pajama onesie pulled up over head, shutting out everything not right in front of her. She did notice him when the hand came forward, as if reaching for her bowl. That startled her. Why did people have to keep trying to take her food? She jumped a bit in her seat, her spoon clattering against the bowl of what appeared to be oatmeal.

"Oh... hello." Alexandria said, eyeing the offered hand suspiciously. She realized the young guy sitting across from her hadn't been intending to touch her food. He just wanted a handshake. After a moment of hesitation she decided to shake it. Her usual limp, wet noodle handshake was masked somewhat by the sleeve of her onesie, which was long enough to cover her palms, and indeed, had thumbholes for it to be worn in such a way.

Canaan took the hand in his without hesitation, gently shaking it before tucking into the table a bit closer. "I hope I'm not intruding, it's just a bit busy and seating's at an all-time premium." He removed a napkin from the dispenser near the edge of the table and placed it over his lap. "How's the, um... well, that?" He asked, gesturing to the bowl of half-eaten porridge with the stab of a fork in the air. A sprinkle of salt and pepper dressed the pile of soft eggs that Canaan eyed with a hunger he'd not fully realized until that moment. "So, um, how's everything at the helm controls these days?" He wondered after scooping a spoonful of eggs now dressed in a squirt of ketchup into his mouth.

"Its oatmeal. Strawberry flavor." Alexandria said, eyeing the man's eggs warily. She didn't like eggs. Too many bad experiences. Oatmeal might be boring, but it was easy on her metabolism and digestive tract... some of the few natural organs she had left. Organs were not fun to replace. She thought about his other question... how was everything at the helm controls? She hadn't really taken stock of that.

"More stressful, but possibly more rewarding, taking the less traveled path. But only if the captain allows me to share some of the travel logs with the Navigator's Guild."

Canaan visibly shuddered. Growing up, his mom had been relentless about serving oatmeal as an addition to the morning meal; she had a dedicated oatmeal pot that never seemed to leave the back burner of the freestanding wood burning stove that was a dominant feature of their New England kitchen. 'A warm bowl of oatmeal will do you good in the cold.' She'd say whenever Canaan would scrunch his nose at the steaming bowl filled with the paste-like amalgamation of oats and milk. And no matter how it was dressed, Canaan just couldn't find a taste for it.

"Navigator's Guild?" Canaan asked with a shake of his head, signaling he was unfamiliar with the group, but also willing away the thought of oatmeal.

"Yes, it is an organization for professional navigators. I received an invitation to join, following my graduation from Starfleet Academy. We share a collective database of astronomical navigation charts, event logs, and various other useful resources in my trade. Our current route is not widely traveled. If it proves to be profitable, and I'm allowed to share the relevant logs, it could increase my standing within the guild." She ate another two spoonful of oatmeal in fairly rapid succession, seemingly unaware of Canaan's aversion to the dish.

"'Increase your standing'?" Canaan repeated, brow furrowed. "To what end?" He tore a bite from a slice of buttery toast, a gesture reminiscent of a Klingon gnawing at a hunk of targ, yet not as gauche.

Alexandria looked at Canaan askance after his reply. The answer should've been completely obvious. She wanted to increase her standing, so she could get her name out there and get better job offers. Or, at the least, a position aboard a ship whose previous crew weren't all incarcerated. Her expression of bewilderment turned to one of disgust as her table companion consumed his meal with a general lack of finesse. But before she could avert her gaze she did notice one thing that fascinated her.

"You have nice teeth." Alexandria said, her head slightly cocked and her posture leaned in for a better angle at Canaan's pearly whites. It sounded more like a simple observation than a compliment, but as oral hygiene was very important to her, it was as close to a compliment as one could get. She didn't seem to realize how her statement literally had nothing to do with his latest question.

Canaan blinked, taken aback by the impromptu compliment that was completely unrelated to their topic of conversation. "Umm, t-thanks." His reply was sincere, albeit laced with confusion. To Alexandria's credit in taking notice, Canaan's teeth were impeccably cared for. His parents were adamant about proper hygiene in all its forms; this made sense to Canaan, who couldn't fathom kissing another person who had the mouth of a Ferengi, shuddering at the thought. He placed slice of toast on the plate and wiped his mouth, feeling the scrutinizing gaze of the woman sitting opposite.

Alexandria nodded, returning her attention to her bowl, which was nearly empty. Though a set of neat and clean teeth seemed to be important to her, she did not seem inclined to show her own. The exchange reminded her to make inquiries into the kind of medical and dental care afforded to the ship's crew. She was hesitant to, for fear of adding one more thing to an already substantial series of disturbing revelations that her brief time aboard the Fawkes had already subjected her to. Perhaps that would be one silver lining.

Something the man seated across from her had said had her disturbed, and she was having difficulty processing it. To what end. She had no idea. It wasn't very smart to have a destination with no plan on how to best get there, but was the opposite any better?

"My shift will be starting soon." Alexandria said abruptly. Clearly, conversation was not her strong point.

Canaan rose from the seat as a show of respect, a look of bewilderment evident in the creasing of his forehead. "Of course, I'll see you on the bridge." There was the sudden realization that they'd not been formally introduced. "I'm Canaan by the way!" He smiled, debating whether to extend his hand once again or to keep it by his side; he chose the latter of the two options, but was ready should this peculiar woman take the lead in that regard. "I'm looking forward to working with you!"

Alexandria attempted a smile. It was weak though, and slightly feral, with hints of bared teeth. It could've been easily mistaken for a wince. "Alexandria." She said, looking a bit confused. Canaan was very enthusiastic, and her reaction to that was like that of a deer in headlights. "Uhh... see you there. Too." She said, before trying to make her escape.

He remained standing for another moment or two, waving the woman goodbye as she made a hasty departure from both table and cabin. He slid back into the chair, scooping up another spoonful of eggs as he watched the others around him.

[OFF]

Alexandria Farron
Navigator

&

Canaan Serene
Signaller

S.S. Fawkes

"The worlds a mean place. It's unfair, then it's fair. It's hateful, then it's loving. It's a very peculiar place..."