RP Log: Questions, Amends, and Whiskey

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Roleplay Log
Participants:
Location(s):
  • Ten Forward <USS Phoenix NCC-170100-A>
Stardate:
  • 129863.0
2024-04-01 22:55
Ten Forward <USS Phoenix NCC-170100-A>


Hawthorn is perched upon a stool at the bar with a drink in front of her. She seems not to be too interested in the beverage, and none too interested in the other people in the lounge either. She has ber back to the majority of the crowd and she's definitely keeping to herself.

LePage steps into Ten Forward and finds his target. It takes him a further five minutes of contemplation of whether or not he really wants to engage in this mission before he steps over, pulling up a stool and sitting next to Hawthorn. "Got a problem if you're interested. Could use your help" he states planly.

Hawthorn only notices the vague colors and patterns of a Starfleet uniform out of the corner of her eye at first. "Do I look like the ship's Counsel..." she snaps before even looking to see who it is. But in mid-sentence, she does look over and sees the Chief Engineer. "Oh, it's you," she says dryly, softening just a little. She swirls her drink, the ice clinking softly against the inside of the glass. "What's wrong now?" she asks instead.

"Been asked to do something to the shield system to try and prevent us slipping into another reality" LePage says. He looks tired on inspection of his face. "Easy enough right? Figured I'd come and ask you to see if that's even worth my time exploring or if I'm just gonna spin my wheels trying"

Hawthorn stops swirling her drink and eyes LePage more closely. "The shields?" she asks, her tone at once inquisitive and disbelieving at the same time.

LePage chuckles, his own disbelief showing. "Pfft, yes the shields" he says before pursing his lips. "It's not an impossible ask but that all depends on the nature of the phenomena. If it's something electromagnetic, sure. If it's a physical based thing, that's a little tougher of an ask for sure. But most of all, I simply don't understand the mechanics of slipping between realities therefore what I should be combatting"

Hawthorn takes a sip of her drink, then pulls a face as if she doesn't like the flavor. She puts the glass back down on the bar heavily, almost letting it drop from her hand to the bartop. "Swill," she mutters to herself, then sighs and closes her eyes. "Who would have thought that what I'd miss most after being on this ship for so long is a decent freaking drink?"

LePage raises an eyebrow and chuckles. "You just don't know where to look" he says, with a smile.

Hawthorn regards the engineer, a question in her dark, hostile eyes, but she doesn't voice that question. Instead she looks away toward the big viewports on the forward bulkhead. "You want a way to anchor us in a single quantum reality," she says. "The best way to do that is to surround the ship in some type of static quantum envelope. Whether or not your shields can accomplish that beats the shit out of me."

LePage blinks and blinks again before his ears wiggle a little as the brain between starts to wake up some. "Not on their own... But if I do something incredibly stupid, incredibly unrealistically dumb and backfeed into them using the slipstream drive as a frequency modulator, then it's not... Impossible" he declares.

Hawthorn turns away from the windows to stare at the engineer. No words, barely blinking, just a whole lot of staring.

"What?" LePage says, his expression doing nothing to convince the scientist that he isn't insane. "Half of my job is breaking things in creative ways to get results. You just gave me a great idea on what to break"

"I'd appreciate it if you left my name out of that part in the report you'll no doubt be writing about this," Hawthorn says. She almost reaches for her glass, but ultimately resists the urge. "I'm not interested in taking credit for facilitating your recklessness."

LePage tilts his head in an understanding gesture. "That's fair enough, if we die we die by my misfortune alone. That being said, I would like to give back in return for getting me out of my block" He says. "I happen to know where the good stuff is"

"What good stuff is that?" Atlanta asks.

"Canadian Blended Whiskies, some bourbon, some rum and something that can only really be described as moonshine" LePage lists off.

The scientists eyes drift to the bar for a moment, then back to LePage. "I'm guessing that stuff isn't kept here in this room, is it?"

"No ma'am, I wouldn't trust these jokers with my private collection even if it was just to let people sniff the caps" LePage says. "Nobody worth their salt would"

Hawthorn blinks once, and then again. "/Your/... private collection?" she asks. "Forgive me Mister... Captain... Lieutenant... whatever, but this far from home, that collection would seem like something far too valuable to share. There is, after all, no way to replenish your supply."

"Yes, but drinking alone is sad and miserable. And indicative of a problem, or so I've been told" LePage nods. "But I do save some of my favorites for myself. However, I'll hardly run short on the moonshine given it happens to be a very local drink"

Hawthorn leans in. "You have a still," she whispers. "Have you also converted your quarters into a speakeasy? I have a feeling it's not your office."

"The still? No, it isn't" LePage nods. "But I'm not turning my quarters into a speakeasy. Besides of which, I wouldn't be the first officer to keep a drink in a locked cabinet in the office and I won't be the last. It's one of the traditions we don't talk about much" he chuckles to himself.

"I know better than to ask someone where they keep their still," Atlanta says. "But I'm not above asking where they keep the bottle. Give me a time and a place, and I'll be there."

"My office. It's an open invitation as long as you knock quietly next time" LePage jabs. "Least I can do for your help"

Hawthorn frowns, but there's a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I'll... try," she replies flatly. Then, as if it causes her pain, she forces out the word, "Thanks."

Commander Worthington arrives from Deck 10 - Forward Corridor.

LePage almost seems as though he wants to make a comment but instead just signals for the bartender to roll him a drink. "But for now, I can comisserate the state of the drinks here with you. In solidarity" LePage offers to Hawthorn.

Ensign Cross arrives from Deck 10 - Forward Corridor.

Worthington walks in and up to the bar, taking a seat and waving down an attending crew member.

Cross is just entering, and she looks about the busy surroundings when she notices Worthington at the bar. "Sir," she says, as she walks over to the man. "you drink?," she asks chortling, as she slides onto a barstool nearby.

Hawthorn glares at the drink in front of her, but she picks it up anyway and swirls it around again. She barely notices the arrival of the other Fleeters.

LePage takes a sip of his own and blanches.

Worthington chuckles "Nope," he says to cross. "I do eat though." He flags down a bar tender. "Fish and chips please," he says.

Cross sighs and shakes her head, feigning immense disappointment at Worthington's order. "Disappointing," she even adds, though it clearly isn't necessary. "And here I was almost hopeful that you had a side to you that actually lets your hair down," she says chuckling. Though she can't help but to notice as LePage takes a sip of his drink. "That bad hmm?," she asks curiously.

Hawthorn watches the engineer's reaction to his drink and nods. "Told you. Swill," she says, then takes a swig of her own drink. She tries, not entirely successfully, to contain a similar reaction.

"Yeah... not great" LePage nods both to Hawthorn and Cross. "Barely passable"

Worthington smiles and laughs. "I like to keep my whits about me, you know that," he says. "This is the best meal spot this side of the saucer section. Being a short walk from my quarters doesn't hurt anything either. Pretty uneventful day so far. Security did have to turn away a couple of kids who decided that the stardrive airlocks were great places to explore, but nothing crazier than that."

Cross chuckles and just makes a face at Worthington. "And here we English, have a reputation for drinking. Not nearly as much as the Irish, but still. You're letting down our people sir," she says, her tone entirely teasing. To the barkeep who approaches her she considers and replies, "yeah the usual mate." The barkeep nods, go behind the bar and mixes up a drink including pinapple juice and afew other liquors, before handing it to her. "Thanks," she says before she takes a sip.

Hawthorn nods, then turns back toward the bar, her drink in front of her once more. Almost instantly she's back in shut-everybody-out mode, as she was before LePage arrived earlier. Apparently that's where she likes to be.

LePage finishes off his drink and stands. "Right then. I've got a proposal to write up on how to break the ship" he says to himself before setting off.