Larose By Any Other Name

Posted on Wed Jun 24th, 2020 @ 3:28am by Commander Mindo & Ensign Emmanuelle Larose
Edited on on Fri Jul 10th, 2020 @ 5:54pm

Mission: Death in Paradise
Location: Little Caesar's Arcade
Timeline: shortly after "Normal Again"

ON

Having finished with the festivities in the holodeck next door, Lieutenant Mindo decided not to head back to his quarters for shut-eye and opted instead to get in some late-night gaming. He was still trying to beat Captain Temple's high score in Tempest and that was taking a while.

He was picking up the nearby crate on which to stand while playing when he heard someone upstairs playing Skee-Ball. His curiosity peaked, he made his way up the stairs to see who was there.

There on the second floor he saw Emmanuelle Larose, bright neon yellow hair tied into a simple ponytail, wearing a black short-sleeve top, black leggings, and a purple skirt. She made an untranslatable sound of frustration as she missed yet another shot. She turned away from the Skee-Ball game and saw Mindo at the top of the stairs. “Oh, salut, Monsieur Mindo. I’m sorry, but no one was hear and I heard this place was fun.” She frowned and faced the game. “I thought my marksmanship was better than this.”

Mindo managed a half-smile. "Tougher than it looks, isn't it?" he said. He began to turn away. "Sorry, I'll leave you be." Mindo had not forgotten their only other meeting, when Emmanuelle had flat-out rejected Mindo before Mindo even had the opportunity to say one word to her. Was his reputation that bad? To be fair, she had just seen him holding court with two rather attractive ladies in a bar on Paradise, as well as getting kicked out of said bar when a jealous boyfriend picked a fight with the diminutive Chief of Engineering. Not the best context in which to meet him. "Unless you want company..." he added. "Personally I wouldn't mind it."

Emmanuelle’s frown turned into a slight smile. “Depends. Do you have anything around here to drink?” She set down the one Skee-ball she was holding and walked toward him. “When I was here with Messieurs Sandoval and Terrekal, we enjoyed some drinks, but didn’t have the benefit of the owner’s assistant when we arrived. We had to dig around to find what we wanted.”

Mindo gestured to the bar on the other end of the room. "I keep the bar fully stocked," he said. "What's your pleasure?" He led the way toward the bar.

"Hmmm," said Emmanuelle as she followed closely behind him. "I think I want something strong. Some kind of whiskey maybe?" She smiled as she found a seat at the bar. "If Lieutenant Griffin were here, what would you offer him?"

Mindo busted out laughing. "Seriously?" he said. "You really want to know?"

She hadn’t predicted he’d laugh like that and raised an eyebrow. “Now I need to know!” she said.

Mindo chuckled and shook his head as he activated his hovering device so he maintained eye level while behind the bar. He opened up one of the small refrigerators under the counter and took out a pitcher of some orange liquid and two glasses. "He drinks orange juice. Freshly squeezed. I keep a stash for him when he wants to bug me in my office and also some here. I think it still annoys the old fogey that I can drink on the job and he can't. Either that or he's still mad about that time Shae and I..." he stopped short and shook his head. "But never mind. We do have real saurian brandy, I have some aged Klingon blood wine, and my specialty, tranya from my province on Fesaria. I also have a plethora of Earth drinks and several Ferengi concoctions that also serve as aphrodisiacs. And then there's the trusty replicator, for all of your 'safe' drinks." He spread his hands on the bar. "What would you like?"

She giggled at the description of her mentor asking for orange juice at a bar. She always thought of men like him drinking the good stuff. She mouth to hide a smile when Mindo mentioned Shae. She’d heard of that particular incident through the grapevine. “I’ve not had aged Klingon blood wine in far too long,” Emmanuelle admitted. “So some of that, please. Have some with me?” she asked.

Mindo eyed Emmanuelle as he took out the bottle of blood wine. "You sure?" he said. "Just a week ago you were pretty emphatic about wanting nothing to do with me."

Emmanuelle blushed, remembering when she first met the engineer on Paradise. “Ah. That. Well, to be fair, you have something of a reputation on the ship. Last year I was roommates with Warrant Officer Alyssa Nuñez. Remember her? Because I spent more than one night helping her forget your one night with her.”

"I remember Alyssa," Mindo said. "How is she? I haven't talked to her in a while."

“She’s fine, now,” Emmanuelle answered. “She’s dating Crewman Sanders from Science and she’s happy. But she was in rough shape, man. She thought you two had something special, and then saw you flirting hard with a young man two days later. Was she wrong? Was there something special there? Or was she, and the next person, just a scratch on the bedpost?”

"There's scratches on my bedpost?" said Mindo. "Alyssa's a special person," he continued. "I really like her. I wondered why she seemed to avoid me after our night together. She wasn't the only one who overreacted about me and Fick."

“Overreacted?” Emmanuelle asked. She wasn’t angry, but she wanted to learn more. She hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt. “Do tell. Perhaps while pouring?” She playfully stuck her tongue out at him, hoping to convey that she wasn’t being rude.

Mindo smiled and poured the drinks. "Fesarians don't consider sex a part of a relationship. It's an intimate activity between two people, most likely friends. It enhances a relationship, but doesn't define it. I really like Alyssa. I also really like Fick. And several others. My sleeping with Fick so soon after sleeping with Alyssa had nothing to do with Alyssa. It was something between me and Fick. I still have feelings for Alyssa. This is something over which many non-Fesarians get confused. We're not Casanovas looking for 'scratches' or 'notches' to add to some collection. We just like companionship."

Emmanuelle could only nod as she listened. “I’m not a stranger to casual sex among people who just want to share an evening of intimacy,” she said. She grinned widely. “Just ask that pink-haired girl from the club on Paradise. But I’m wondering if Alyssa thought the nature of your relationship would be more exclusive than you ever intended. And that’s not her fault or yours. Just bad communication, which happens.” She raised her glass. “What shall we drink to, Mindo?”

Mindo held up his glass and looked at the deep red liquid. "To better communication," he said.

Emmanuelle smiled warmly and clinked her glass to his.

They took their drinks, Mindo swishing the liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. "This particular wine is fermented on the Klingon colony Ra'TotH, using blood from a certain large breed of targ, mixed with the juice of a crushed, bitter berry unique to the system. Traditional blood wine is fermented quickly and needs only a few days of aging. However, the berries of Ra'TotH blood wine required a much longer aging process, given the natural colder temperature of the planet. I serve it at room temperature, unlike the typical Qo'noS wine, which is usually served warm. I love the sharp, tart sting you get at first that converts into a sweet aftertaste when swallowed. You like?"

Emmanuelle swished as well, and while she knew nothing of bloodwine, she knew good liquor and could appreciate the flavour. “I do. Most bloodwine has a strong, unpleasant quality when you swallow it, but you’re right, this is sweeter, and much nicer. So are you an expert in all the drinks you serve?”

Mindo shrugged. "Not all. My family owned a vineyard for three generations. My father made tranya. He was very knowledgeable about alcohol, and had studied several of the drinks Balok had found in his travels just a century before. He tried to explain to me how to make tranya several times, but I never really caught on. He and Mom both died when I was six. I actually learned more about alcohol in the Academy."

Emmanuelle nodded as she took another sip. “I tried to learn about what I was drinking while a Crewman on Proxima and on Mars. The Petty Officers I worked with could handle their drink, and made sure I had a taste for the good stuff. I think they were worried about being embarrassed by me drinking fruity sweet cocktails the colour of my ever-changing hair. Don’t get me wrong, those can be delicious, but sometimes you just need something good and hard.” She blushed when she realized her innuendo.

"There are certainly times for good and hard," Mindo said. "But soft and sweet has its appeal as well. Nobody wants it too rough. Too rough and it hurts in the morning... or so I'm told... Fesarians don't get hangovers so we can keep it up pretty much all night." Now it was his turn to blush. "We're still talking about alcohol right?"

“Um,” Emmanuelle said as she looked away, finishing her glass, “yes. Let’s say yes. Alcohol. Speaking of which, freshen my drink, Monsieur le Barman?” She smiled as she slid her glass back to him. “I am enjoying your company, Mindo. I’m sorry if I misjudged you.”

Mindo smiled as he poured. "Hate to say it, but I kind of had you pegged as a walking freezer unit," he replied. "But first impressions are often wrong, and I will admit I wasn't at my best when we met on the station."

Emmanuelle nodded. “And I was a lot stiffer and more formal that day. It was my first day as a security attaché to the diplomatic department. I wanted to impress the people in charge. Before that, I wanted to be at my best for Lieutenant Griffin. If we’ve never seen each other off duty, that’s the only way you’ve seen me.” She took another big sip of blood wine. “Ahh! But what’s your impression of me now?”

Mindo couldn't help but smile. "You're definitely more... interesting than I thought at first. Maybe it's your hair, but you even look a lot different. I didn't know who you were until I heard your accent. French?"

“Québécoise,” Emmanuelle corrected. “From a French-speaking nation on a different continent of Earth. As for the hair...normal colours are boring and...normal. I like standing out a bit. When people see me and hear me, they remember me.”

"Being remembered is important to you?" Mindo asked.

Emmanuelle nodded as she sipped again. “I want them to come to me when they need something. I want them to know they can rely on me. When they think of who should get the next important assignment or promotion, I want to stand out in their minds. Doing the best I can is part of that. Standing out is another. Combined, they remember and they pick me.”

"So it's about gaining authority? Power?" Mindo asked, pouring the both of them another drink.

“Non, not power,” Emmanuelle clarified as she took the new drink. “More like...knowing I’m making a difference. And being the best possible Emmanuelle I can be.”

"That's one reason I joined Starfleet," said Mindo. "I wanted more out of me. On Fesaria, I felt like my life was meaningless, doomed to go nowhere. It wasn't until going to the Academy that I found a purpose. I wasn't even sure of myself when I left my home planet. Being around different sorts of people really changed my outlook on the universe. Since joining Starfleet, it seems like every day there's a new surprise waiting for me."

“We have more in common than either of us thought, don’t we?” Emmanuelle mused. She sipped the wine again. “I should probably go. With this much bloodwine in me I shouldn’t attempt any more games.” She stood from the barstool and stood on wobbly legs.

Mindo came out from behind the bar. "Would you like me to accompany you back to your quarters?" asked Mindo. He raised a hand. "I promise I'll be a perfect gentleman."

At first, Emmanuelle looked at him through narrowed eyes. She knew he would be honest about his intentions, and if she didn’t want anything to happen, he wouldn’t make a move. “Okay. But I’m watching you.” She gave him a smile and started off toward the holodeck door.

Mindo followed, hovering at her eye-level down the small flight of stairs and through the entrance of the arcade. "I'm glad we got to talk tonight," he said as they stepped into the turbolift. "You're a lot different than I originally thought."

“And you as well,” Emmanuelle replied. “I’m glad we spoke today. And thank you for the drinks.” A few moments later, they reached her door. “C’est la mienne. Merci Mindo.”

Mindo smiled. "I don't speak French. Is that an invitation to come inside?"

Emmanuelle shot him a dirty look. "Non. It just means it's my room. We've arrived. And then I said thank you for walking me home."

Mindo smiled and held up his hands. "I swear I didn't know," he said. "I didn't want to be awkward and just walk away... which is what I'm apparently doing now." He smiled again and said goodnight as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she called back to him, realizing she'd been rude and made one too many assumptions. She grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving and then gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. "Thank you for the fun evening, Mindo. Let's do it again sometime." She let go of his arm and went into her quarters, allowing herself to practically collapse onto the bed, asleep in seconds.

Back in the corridor, Mindo smiled to himself. It had indeed been a fun evening, and while he'd gotten his hopes up just a little at the end there, he definitely agreed that they should do this again... even if it was just as friends.