multiversallogs | Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

Who: EVERYONE.
What: Catenrat party.
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Givdi the 22nd of Toidaren
Notes: The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread. When your characters are ready to leave, they'll be given a little wooden cheese, a glass fish, and a voucher for a big basket of snacks.
Warnings: None yet. Please put warnings up on individual threads.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Above the doorway and wound through a few of the sets of antlers some enterprising soul has placed a garland decorated with little blue and green fish.

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Seriousness is overrated, especially over holidays. Amusement shines in her green eyes, and not at his expense. So, Olivia grins and nods her head. "Sure. I think I could do with another." And that was very nearly a brow-waggle. "Shall we?" Pulling open the door to the building, she gestures inside.

He grabs the edge of the door, gesturing inward as well--look, he's a smartass and a pain in the ass, but he's a well-mannered one. He's also a starship captain and Starfleet beats proper and respectful conduct into its recruits. He wouldn't dream of preceding a lady through a door.

"What are you drinking and where do you prefer to sit?"

It's good to know that chivalry survives into the twenty-third century. With a gracious inclination of her head, Olivia ducks back inside the bar. "I'll stick with beer, I think. You can pick where we sit." It's a bit of give and take. "Company's more important than seating."

"I agree. Company's always more important." His gaze sweeps the room, lighting on two people leaving a table not far from the door, back away from most of the crowd. "I'll get the beer," he suggests, "and you grab that table before someone else gets there."

"Teamwork! I like it." 'Liv grins and offers a two-finger salute before she veers off toward the now-vacated table. She narrowly beats out some competition, pretending not to notice the way she's edged out another pair in search of a table. Early birds and worms.

She drums her nails on the table top absently while she waits, scanning the space casually with a faint smile still on her lips. She's actually enjoying herself, she realises. That was the point of attending the party tonight, of course, but there was some pessimism lingering. A notion that having fun might prove impossible. Her gaze drifts off to find Jim in the crowd again, watching and waiting for his return.

It takes him a few minutes to get the drinks; the place is busy tonight, seems even busier than when he stepped outside to get away from the crowds for a bit. The bartenders are hopping, and they do move quickly, but with the sheer numbers of people needing drinks, there's a wait.

But he does return, pausing when the crowd thins out, away from the bar, to search out Olivia and their table. He grins when he sees her, hoisting a glass in greeting and then making his way to her.

"Here you are." He places one beer in front of her, sits, and takes a sip of the other before setting it on the table in front of himself, hands folded around it.

"I was about to send out a search party," Olivia jokes, as if she hadn't been keeping her eye on him. "Cheers." Glass raised in appreciation before she brings it to her lips for a sip.

There's something comforting about the way that beer is beer no matter where you tend to be. (Apparently.) "So... Starfleet captain. What made you decide that's what you wanted to do? Is that a childhood dream?"

He raises his own glass in return, still smiling, before he takes another sip. And then his contented expression kind of... freezes, just for a second, in place. It's not her fault--she couldn't have known what a minefield that is. It's complicated most days, being what it is, but lately, with the nightmares and the self-doubt? Damn.

"Not always," he admits, the momentary lapse overcome with his usual warmth. "I was torn about it for a long time. My dad was a captain." His smile fades, and his gaze drops to his glass. He wouldn't be this open if he wasn't already so full of beer and tired on top of it, but...

"For all of twelve minutes. He died saving his crew. Including me, and my mother. Part of me wanted to follow in his footsteps but part of me was terrified I wouldn't live up to his example. And then most of me was angry."

He looks up at her again, almost sheepish, and he shrugs. "But I got there eventually. Can't imagine doing anything else with my life, these days."

Olivia recognises the hesitation, and has her suspicions that she's said the wrong thing. It's confirmed when he explains his motivation, and while she gives him a sympathetic look, it isn't laced in the least with pity. "I'm sorry," for his loss.

"I'm glad you found your place, though." Even though that's been tipped on its head by coming to Baedal. That much is left tacit. "It's not easy, turning that anger into strength."

Then it's her turn to have that moment where the smile falls away from her face. She hides it behind another drink of beer.

"I had help. Guidance from an old friend." Well. Spock would someday be an old friend, they were working on that, for now. But the older Spock had helped him see his way to grasping that strength. And McCoy had been there, too, to kick him in the ass when he needed it.

He scrubs at his face with a hand, laughing softly. "Geez. Sorry. Oversharing. I promise I'm not usually so pathetic." He gazes at her across the table. "What about you? What's your strength?"

"No," Olivia's quick to placate with a lifted hand. "You're definitely not pathetic. That was my fault." She shakes her head, dismissing whatever fugue may have threatened to overtake her.

As for her strength... "Family. -- Does that... sound too corny? My world is dying, but I'm- I was working to change that. Before I came here." It is what it is. "Someone has to be strong so others don't have to. It may as well be me."

Her smile is bittersweet, "I left my son behind when I came here. I was wondering if he'll feel the same way you did if I never find a way to go home."

Starfleet training tells its officers to try to keep a level head, a calm demeanor, and whatever they're feeling in a difficult moment to themselves. Thank God they're not graded on those ideas, because Jim would've failed miserably. There's sympathy and concern written all over his face; he leans in a little, touching her arm for just a moment.

"I'm sorry. I think I hate that most about this place. You get taken from everything and everyone important to you. And I can't imagine that anything I could tell you about my own strength or struggles because of not having my father around would really help, in the end."

She catches his hand in hers as he withdraws from that touch to her arm, squeezing once so he knows it's okay. Or that she's okay. Everybody's going to be okay. Because they have to be.

"Don't apologise. You did help. I like to think that even if I don't make it back, things will turn out all right for him. If you can do it, so can he." After one more squeeze, 'Liv seems to realise she's perhaps being a little too friendly with someone she's only just met and rests her hands flat on the table, a sheepish little smile to accompany the motion. "I worry too much. I think that comes with being a mother. It isn't as though he's on his own. He's got my mother, and..."

What exactly is Lincoln to her? Apart from distant now. "He's got a friend of mine, who I know will look after him and make sure he never has to be alone. So it's not all bad. I'm glad he isn't here, to be honest. I'd rather have him growing up on Earth than in Baedal."

Which brings a quirk to her brow and the corner of her mouth. A change of subject is in order. "So, hey, you're the expert. What do you think? Is this another planet or what?"

If you can do it, so can he.

It's still so new, the whole idea of being some kind of role model, someone to look up to. A good example, like his father. He smiles at her, giving her hand a squeeze in return before she pulls away. He's still not sure how this whole golden-boy thing sits on him. He's proud, but it's weird. Still taking some getting used to.

"I remember how my mom used to worry over me." He laughs. "Scratch that--she still does it, even now. I always have messages from her. Maybe it does come with the territory, I don't know. As far as where we are..."

He hesitates a moment. He hasn't shared a lot of what he's learned from McCoy about his trip home. But he's slightly buzzed, she seems all right, and she further seems like she can wrap her head around it.

"It's gotta be a parallel universe or something. I know someone who left and came back. Not of his own volition, either time. He says when he was back, it was like he'd never left. And like I'd never left, either. I can't think of any other explanation than another universe."

Oh, Kirk. You know how to pick 'em. And in this case, that's definitely meant in a good way. Olivia nods along with his suggestion without any look of perplexity or disbelief. "That makes sense. So then if when your friend went back to your home universe, and it was as if neither of you had been missing, then this place must exist outside of our own timelines."

Perfect sense. Clearly.

"Was he just... deposited right back where he was before he came here, then?" That someone managed to go home is a beacon of hope. But that they were also brought back tempers a lot of that.

He nods, glad she sees the same thing he does. "Exactly. If it was all within the same universe, the timelines would be screwed up. People would notice us gone. But from everything he said, it's like we were never gone, and the timelines haven't shifted. We've got to be being dragged out of our universes of origin, then. That's the only explanation that makes any sense to me."

He pauses at her question, frowning. "I... think so? I didn't exactly... press him for details." He looks a bit sheepish, he should be more thorough, but his concern for his friend is also written all over his face. "He was taking things really hard when he got back."

"Who can blame him?" Certainly not Olivia. She waves her hand dismissively, which gives way to reaching for her beer again for another long drink. "Still, it's something. Another curiosity to add to this place."

She shakes her head and sighs quietly. "What do you do for fun around here, Jim?" Easier conversation. Less critical thinking involved. "Besides attend holiday parties and make friends with morose strangers, I mean."

"Yeah. Not like this place needed one more curiosity, but there you go."

He laughs softly, shaking his head, and he insists, "You're not that morose. And I-- um."

Well. He goes... to work. Or he goes... to the library. Or he spends his time... working out. Interrogating people about the city. Bothering McCoy at Hellsing's medical department?

"...I don't really get out much, I guess. But I could stand to."

Olivia chuckles when Jim does. A much needed break in the tension just beneath her surface, and she's more visibly relaxed when it subsides. "Do you jog?" She doesn't let that question hang too long before elaborating on the thought. "I used to use the treadmill at home, but I've been using my work-out routine as an excuse to get out and kind of learn the layout of the city."

Her head tips to one side, that shoulder raising up to meet halfway in a shrug. "You could join me sometime." She smiles.

Jim's face lights up a bit, both at the suggestion, and the fact that they're back on ordinary, friendly, no-weird-emotional-surprises ground. "I do jog. I always want company, but my roommate gets up way the hell too early for me. I'd love to join you."

That smile widens, green eyes brightening. "Great." She lifts her glass again in a fleeting toast to their new work-out buddy status. "I look forward to it." And because Olivia's on beer number four, she feels compelled to add, "A lot." It only takes her a second to feel embarrassed about the enthusiasm. She clears her throat to cover it up. "It'll be good to have a partner."

He grins, but doesn't say anything about the enthusiasm. He doesn't want her to think he's using the situation to his advantage, or that he's reading too much into anything. In a way, it's nice--enthusiasm isn't something he's heard a lot of in this city.

"Yeah." He raises his glass, too. "Here's to having someone to run with, instead of something to run from." This city and its emergencies and monsters, seriously.

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Bite they little heads off! Nibble on they tiny feet!

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This is what happens when I don't tag for a week. The words just pour out. sry sry

No worries! :D

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