Two Lost Souls Passing in the Mess Hall

Posted on Monday May 6th, 2019 @ 06:02 hours by Ares Onasis & Canaan Serene & Clinton Westbrooke Jr

Mission: Short Treks
Location: Mess Lounge, Deck 2, S.S. Fawkes
4257 words - 8.5 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

Downtime on a freighter was rare, especially on one as profit-driven as the Fawkes. Mayterial regularly signed off on a series of contracts to make up for the substantial loss the ship incurred while it was hung up in the mothballs. Usually, there was only a day, two at most, between one contract finishing and the next starting. Many times, the captain piggybacked multiple contracts in a single run. The crew volunteered most of their spare time to maintenance repairs and improvements. The volunteering wasn't out of the kindness of their hearts, yet to guarantee future pay by ensuring the Fawkes didn't rust out from around them. The business kept the crew focused, although it didn't leave a lot of time for fun. Time was a precious commodity when they could steal a few hours for themselves.

Canaan frequently spent off hours in the rec areas designated for crew use only, or in the solitude of private quarters. Tonight, however, he'd decided on the mess hall. The subdued lighting and quiet a seldom comfort, it was late enough in the evening that most of the passengers had already turned in. The young human chose the privacy of a table in the aft corner of the cabin, nearest a viewport. His back pressed against the bulkhead, legs stretched along the length of the bench, one bent at the knee, Canaan flipped the page of the novel he was reading with the swipe of a finger against the PADD's display.

When Canaan arrived over an hour ago, Ares and Colt occupied a nearby table. Although they'd encouraged him to join, Canaan politely declined with the understanding that, like he, the couple hardly had time to themselves; as much as he'd have enjoyed the company, Canaan would've felt guilty intruding, even with the invitation. Instead, he nursed a glass of tea long-since cooled as he became fully engrossed in the book. So consumed by the plot, Canaan hadn't noticed the young man standing on the other side of the table. When he spoke, the boy's soft voice was subtle enough not to be jarring.

Canaan glanced up, unperturbed by the interruption. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" He asked, not having heard what the passenger had asked just a moment ago.

“This seat taken?” The voice belonged to a young brunette male, his short hair perfectly tousled, with bright green eager eyes and a lean but muscular body. His dark blue shirt perfect accentuated his fitness level. The Mess Hall wasn’t particularly busy and had plenty of open seating but there was something about this guy that drew him over to him.

Canaan's eyes scanned the room, taking note of the empty tables. Of all the places this person could sit, why had he approached Canaan? "Oh, um, sure... yes, of course." He gestured to the empty chair with a polite smile, before righting himself on the bench. "How are you this evening?" The white-haired signaller studied the man, noting his prominent cheekbones and the sharp jawline before Canaan's aquamarine-colored eyes met the mans' emerald orbs.

The man’s smile widened as he let out the breath that he realized he had been holding. He was nervous… why was he nervous? The young man sitting across from him, with his sweet and gentle angelic features, seemed nice enough. “I’m good-” The man paused, realizing he had left his food over at the counter after becoming distracted by Canaan. He wasn’t sure how well he hid the burn from his cheeks, but he kept going. He didn’t need to eat, right? “Umm, how are you?” His smile had gone slightly lopsided during the course of his small goof.

Canaan saw the man's cheeks deepen in color, yet was uncertain as to why. His smile was half-cocked in a curiousness that was matched by the subtle furrowing of his brow. "I'm doing well, thanks." He licked his lips, "Trying to disconnect a bit before my next shift." It was a common occurrence for the crew to interact with passengers, some more frequently than others. Canaan was among those that often spoke with those they were ferrying from one destination to another. He'd deliver messages or arrange transmission time, and sometimes, he was asked to help translate a communique or serve as an intermediary when necessary. In truth, Canaan knew more about each passenger compared to every other crew member; it was his job after all. But you wouldn't know this, as his role predicated on privacy and discretion. Canaan knew well how to keep a secret, having several of his own. "Couldn't sleep?" He asked curiously.

The young man shook his head. “Night owl. Getting me out of bed in the morning is like trying to drag a kid out of a candy store.” He let out an easy chuckled as he leaned forward a bit towards Canaan and resting his crossed arms on the table top. “I’m Gavin, by the way.”

"Canaan." He offered his hand to Gavin in the customary greeting of any human, "It's nice to meet you." Canaan's friendliness was sincere, as was his smile and the warmth reflected in either eye. "Night owl, eh? I'd like to say I'm one as well, but not by my own choice." A soft chuckle followed before he took a sip of his neglected tea.

Gavin tilted his head to the side slightly, confused as to how someone would be forced into being a night owl. His young mind thought you either were a night owl or not. But Canaan was very adorable and had an innocent energy about him, something that was incredibly refreshing for the weary traveler. “How so?”

Colt, with his arm around Ares’s shoulders and her body leaned up against his, tapped Ares on her collarbone as he watched the conversation unfold. He couldn’t help but scoff in amusement, “Sure, he doesn’t want to sit with us…”

Ares, who had been playing with her long curly brown hair and enjoying hearing about Colt’s fascination with old spy novels and movies, looked up and felt a smile stretch across his lips. “It’s because you’re not a young gay man, Colt.” She laughed as she kept her eyes on the pair. “Don’t even think about moving closer. The kid’s new to this sort of thing. We should probably let him be before we make him too nervous. Poor guy’s nervous enough as is.” She felt a warmth growing from her stomach, excited at the prospect that the freshly minted Canaan was venturing a bit out of his comfort zone with a new ‘friend’. “Doesn’t mean we can’t spy on him, though.”

Canaan leaned back against the bulkhead, lips pursed in thought as he considered the question for a moment. "My job keeps me pretty busy at all hours of the day, there's always some message in need of dispatching, translating, or encrypting; those don't stop just because I'd like an hour or two of shuteye." Gavin had a curious nature about him, he listened intently in a way that urged him to continue, yet Canaan had a tendency to ramble and overshare, especially when nervous, which he was desperate to control at the moment so as not to make a complete fool of himself. "I haven't seen you before, did you come on board at our last layover?" Canaan wondered.

Gavin nodded. "Yeah, just a weary traveler crossing the galaxy," he chuckled lightly. "That's pretty cool that you work here. You like it?"

If Canaan liked it, he never got to say as Clint dropped into the seat next to him, "What a shit show of a day I've had, kid."

He started shoveling food into his mouth as he continued, "Fifteen systems I overhauled today. Had Mercy breathing down my neck the whole time, grumbling about every little detail. It's not like the computer systems are hers anyway..."

Canaan's nose scrunched in obvious embarrassment at Clint's unexpected arrival; the quartermaster's timing couldn't have been more awful. The white-haired signaller's shoulders deflated as he gestured to the man shoveling food into his mouth by the spoonful. "Gavin, this is Clint, our supply guru. Clint, this is Gavin." If his timing was awful, it was Clint's manners that were utterly abysmal; unfortunately, it was one of the man's many infuriatingly endearing characteristics. Clint was always unapologetically himself, a quality Canaan truly admired and respected about the quartermaster, regardless of his manners, or lack thereof. Canaan removed the cloth napkin from the quartermaster's food tray and dropped it upon Clint's grease-crusted coveralls, rolling his eyes with a smirk as he caught Gavin's eyes with his own.

Clint looked at Canaan with an odd sort of expression, and picked the napkin up, wiping his face with it and tossing it back on his tray, "What'd you put in my lap for, huh?" He asked, looking at Canaan like he'd lost his mind, before turning his attention to the new person, "Nice to meet ya, Gavin. You one of our passengers or a new Deck Hand?" He asked.

“Passenger,” Gavin stated pleasantly. His smile tilted up slightly at the interruption. It was just his luck that he had taken a step forward in finally speaking with the guy he had noticed at a safe distance and their alone time had been interrupted. But he had always been a friendly and open man and figured the extra presence may ease up Canaan’s obvious nerves.

Colt’s loud laugh boomed from his table as he and Ares watched the show that was unfolding in front of them. Ares felt and urge to move to help with some damage control but decided against it. Having too many cooks in the kitchen would surely cause a fire, and Clint, that big ape, would certainly be the cause of it. She instead shushed Colt with a playful smack against his chest with the back of her hand and her own laughter at poor Canaan’s situation.

"Hey, Keep it down Colt," Clint chastised the man, "People are tryin' to eat over here," He said, seriously, before turning back to Gavin. "Sorry, no culture, that guy," He said, continuing to shovel. "So how'd you guys meet? Old friends or somethin'?" He asked, looking back and forth between them.

"Actually, we just met," Canaan confessed, pushing the glass of cold tea around the surface of the table so as to distract from how awkward the moment felt. "Maybe you could go say hi to Colt and Ares?!" He suggested hopefully. Canaan didn't want Clint to feel unwelcome, but there was a gorgeous guy sitting opposite who actually wanted to know him beyond the job. Guys like Gavin didn't exist in anything more than a fantasy for Canaan, so the very fact there was one making near-constant eye contact with him was something to celebrate and explore.

"Nah, they're over there cuddling like love birds, and..." Clint paused, his eyes got a bit wider as he looked back and forth between the two men before him, and he cleared his throat, "Actually... yeah, you know what? They're doin' too much o' that PDA shit. I better go correct that. Captain would want that," He said, snatching his tray up and standing, "Nice to meet you, Gav. Canaan. Stay out of trouble," He said, ducking around the table and making a b-line for Ares and Colt.

“Ah, welcome, Captain Oblivious,” Colt gave him a playful smirk. “Pull up a chair and recover from the extremely ill-timed interruption.”

Ares laughed as she sat up and watched Clint drop pathetically into his chair. “How’s your food? I hope it’s not sour after that encounter.” She stuck her tongue out playfully at him as she continued the prodding of the jokes at his expense. “Canaan is finally getting a chance to talk to someone his age who is incredibly attractive by traditional standards and you almost blow it for him.”

"Hey, man, I was just sittin' with a friend. Didn't see you guys callin' me over to keep me from chewing on my shoe," Clint grumbled, the red his cheeks were flushing mostly hidden by his beard.

Ares gave him a quick pat on the arm and a small pity pout as Colt shook his head and took a drink from his beer.

"So, yeah, that's Clint." Canaan chuckled, knowing nothing more needed saying on that particular subject. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. Canaan was hopeless in situations such as these, regardless of how very social a person he was. "So, where are you headed?" Gavin was one of several passengers the freighter was ferrying to various destinations via the course of their original contract. Some would disembark sooner rather than later. Canaan secretly hoped Gavin's intended departure was the latter.

Gavin shrugged, glad to be back on track. “Nowhere in particular. Just kind of… wandering, I guess.” He chuckled at the sound of it. He sounded like he didn’t have any place to go. While that was true enough, he didn’t want Canaan to think any less of him or think he was just some sort of intergalactic hobo. “Going wherever they pay. I've got a lot of time before I die so I figure why not see what space has in store for me.”

"That's a romantic notion." Canaan pulled a leg up to his chest, the other gently tapping the floor. "You're kind of like a," His voice trailed off as he thought of the proper term, "An intergalactic nomad." Canaan declared with a smile and waggle of his eyebrows, "Going wherever the winds take you, so-to-speak. In a way, they were on a similar journey; Canaan was unaware of Gavin's reasons for wandering, but he liked the idea that the man was willing to explore what was out there. "Have you been 'wandering' for long?" Canaan's attention was wholly on the Gavin, although he could see Ares glancing their way periodically, which caused an involuntary smile to curl up one corner of the boys' mouth, thankful for her mindfulness of his well being.

“Almost a year,” Gavin felt the relief of the casual questioning, though it was time for him to turn the tables. “Where are you from? Originally, I mean. Your hair and your skin are immaculate.” His smile widened as he gave himself another chance to look over Canaan’s unique features. “Your parents have blessed you with some good genes.”

Canaan could feel the heat radiating from either cheek, their deepening color prominent against pale skin. He averted Gavin's eyes, uncertain in how to respond; it wasn't that he'd not received similar compliments before, he had; yet, their meaning and intent felt different when Gavin spoke them. "Earth," Canaan replied, his eyes meeting the wanderer's, "On the North American Continent, but that doesn't have anything to do with my appearance, really. My mom and dad have pretty dark hair, whereas I inherited a unique condition that has me looking nearly zombified." A little self-deprecating humor never hurt, right?

Gavin's eyebrows furrowed slightly. He had just given him a compliment. Why did he brush it aside so quickly? His stomach interrupted the trail of thought by making itself known to him that it was on E. His reflex acted quickly to muffle the sound by moving his hand underneath the table and pressing it against the hungry beast to silence it. "Out of all the words I could think to describe you, zombie isn't included on the list. You should embrace what you've been given. And you're in good health, right?"

Canaan considered Gavin for a moment, eyes holding his. "That's kind of you to say." He offered the man a bashful smile, "I'm not terribly good with compliments, honestly." Canaan spoke honestly, "Where are you travelling from?" He asked, quick to continue their conversation, yet noticing Gavin cradling his stomach. "Is everything okay?"

Gavin felt the laugh slip out before he could catch it. Shaking his head, it was too late for him to try to be the smooth gentleman he thought he was. This meant Canaan was special and someone unlike the others. Letting out a sigh, his lips formed into a goofy grin. “Honestly, I’m a doof and left my food tray over by the replicators.” He pointed to where the now cold food still remained surprisingly untouched. “I was too busy convincing myself to talk to you and when I finally did decide to I was dumb and forgot to do what I came here to do and that was to eat.” And when he paused to check out Canaan’s reaction, which was hopefully a humorous one, he completely forgot about the other question that was asked of him.

Gavin was never one to be ditsy and forgetful. He was strong and well-spoken and incredibly intelligent. He also knew how to butter people up. On the surface, Canaan’s obvious eager vulnerability would make him an easy target to prey upon. Sometimes Gavin had to do things that weren’t so pleasant in order to survive. But that wasn’t what the man was doing right now. For the first time in his adult life, Gavin was being his true self around Canaan, and it was surprisingly easy.

Canaan's laugh coupled with Gavin's, "You're kidding me!" He breathed, "You must be starving!" He saw the long forgotten tray of food and thought it queer to be such a distraction for the other man; had he had that kind of effect on Gavin? "See, this is why we're doomed; you'll die of hunger before we have the chance to know each other better." He grinned, his expression apologetically amused. "Seriously though, you had to convince yourself? Am I really that scary?" Canaan went to stand, intending to replicate the man a fresh tray of food; no one should go hungry on his behalf.

"When you like someone, sometimes it messes with your head," Gavin let off a slightly amused scoff as he watched Canaan's slight body movement that meant he was thinking about leaving. Gavin was becoming a blubbering idiot as every skill he had honed since he was a pubescent boy completely disappeared from his repertoire. "I promise you I'm not as big of a dope as I'm portraying right now. I can give you a list that may or may not make up for my clumsiness."

Canaan decided to play along, but not until he'd returned with food. Approaching the replicator, Canaan retrieved the tray of food and placed it in the slot. "Computer, please replicate a fresh tray of the same food as the one in the slot." The computer chimed its acknowledgment before replacing one tray of food with another. Canaan could feel Gavin's eyes. His skin prickled; he liked the thought of Gavin watching his every move, it was oddly titillating. Shaking the thought from his head, Canaan removed the freshly materialized tray of food and returned to the table, where he placed it in front of Gavin. Returning to his seat, one of Canaan's eyebrows cocked upward as a mischevious grin tugged at either corner of his full lips. "So, you were just about to list all the ways that may or may not convince me you're a dingbat." Canaan gestured for Gavin to start whenever ready. He enjoyed Gavin's playfulness and the smooth sound of his voice, which held Canaan's attention without sway.

Gavin’s head dropped slightly as he let out a humored breath. Canaan had put him in his place and turned the tables back towards him. The banter was fun and a little bit teasing, adding a deeper level of tension between them. “Alright. I’m an artist. I mostly sing though I do write and sell songs and stories on the side. Been on my own since I was 16, putting what I’ve earned away for the future and living off the bare minimum. I’ve made many connections along the way and enjoy being able to go wherever I please and stay for as long as I want. I’m also known to slip a Shakespeare or old Philosopher’s quote into everyday conversation.” He paused as he picked up the ham and cheese sandwich Canaan so generously brought for him. “Anything else?” Gavin’s modest smile turned into a playfully smug smirk as he took a bite of the food.

Canaan listened intently, watching the way Gavin's lips moved when he spoke and how his left eyebrow tilted ever so slightly, or how the green-color of his eyes reflected a hopefulness when he spoke about being an artist and saving for his future, having connections, and the freedom afforded to him as a vagabond. There was a part of Canaan that felt envious of Gavin's self-determination, the adventures he must have experienced at such a young age, and the chance to do what he pleased-as he pleased-whenever he pleased. Canaan's life was of stark contrast. "Do you consider yourself a philosopher?" The question sounded simple, yet Canaan meant it more in the way of how Gavin stayed rooted and integrated such an outlook in his chosen trade and everyday life.

“Sometimes overthinking ourselves and our lives leads us down a path full of emptiness and ‘what ifs’, like ‘What if I made more money at that gig?’ or ‘What if I stayed at home instead of following what gave me excitement and hope for each day?’ The ‘What If?’ game is very dangerous. That’s when you begin to have that regret that slows down your ability to push on.” Gavin paused as he washed down his food with the cold green tea waiting for him in the cup. “I believe in the beauty of simplicity. You know, like the simplicity of a small flower, or of a four-chord song, or of the jolt of lightening that strikes you when you first see someone that will somehow have a profound effect on your life but you don’t know why. Giving every moment of your life some sort of shallow meaning only deflates the value of where you’ve been and where you’ll be going.”

"Sometimes what ifs can be interesting." Canaan countered, yet understanding Gavin's point. He wondered if the artist had regrets; if so, it didn't sound as if he wallowed in them. Canaan had regrets and they were a source of consternation, reminders that he could have had a different life had he been brave like Gavin. "Are you looking for someone to have a sincere effect in your life?" Gavin's statement hadn't gone unnoticed and it had him blushing, yet this time he didn't look away, instead, he held the man's gaze.

Ares was knee deep in the dick-measuring contest between Colt and Clint, though it was only background noise as she kept part of her attention on Canaan and the guy who had made himself quite known to everyone. She then noticed the chrono slightly blurred above Canaan’s head. “Aw, shit,” she said out loud. Five minutes until they were all set for their shifts. She was gonna have to interrupt whatever magic was brewing between the smitten men. But she remembered that half of the fun of attraction was the anticipation of the next conversation. Sometimes you have to leave the other wanting more. “Clint, we gotta head out.”

"But it was four men, not three. Anyone can take out three guys in a fight," Clint was boasting when Ares interrupted him, "Ah fuck," Clint said, looking over at the chrono.

“Time to go already?” Colt confirmed the time with disappointed eyes. He enjoyed the company of the crew far more than the passengers. Then he looked at Gavin and realized he was being given the opportunity to find out all of the juicy details of the mysterious man that was trying to wiggle his way to Canaan. Colt had felt a brotherly bond with the young crewmember and needed to make sure the stranger wasn’t trying to con his way into making an extra pile of credits while en route to his destination. The mischievous boyish smile then spread across his lips at the thought of his post-breakfast plans to hound Gavin.

Ares then whistled towards Canaan and waved him to the table. “Time to go, Canaan. Another bright day ahead of us!”

Canaan glanced around Gavin, disappointment evident in his expression. He nodded at Ares before returning his attention to the man who'd kept him company. "I've, um, well... I've gotta go." Canaan gestured to the door as he stood to walk around the table, stopping beside Gavin. He leaned down so the next words he spoke were theirs alone. "I'm glad you found the courage to say hello." He whispered before joining Ares and Clint in the corridor, who looked several shades of roguish, chomping at the bit to offer a friendly tease and a bit too excited to learn all about the friendly artist who had unexpected wandered into his life.

[OFF]

Canaan Serene
Signaller

&

Clinton Westbrooke, Jr.
Quartermaster

&

Ares Onasis
First Mate

&

Colt McCormick
Passenger
(as written by Ares Onasis)

&

Gavin
Passenger
(as written by Ares Onasis)