Irreverent Feelings

Posted on Thu 6th Dec, 2012 @ 3:42pm by Colonel Horatio Drake & Commander Paul Graves PsyD

658 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/3
Location: Deck 27: Drake's Quarters
Timeline: MD-02: 1800 Hours

ON:

"Right, that's me done" the Sergeant Major made the announcement and downed the remnants of his twelve ounce tumbler of scotch.

"Sure I can't persuade you into another?" Drake asked optimistically, despite knowing full well that once Winchester had decided something... that was the end of it.

"Not for me, son - I've got an early start tomorrow. Fifteen cargo ships all arriving within an hour of each other... something I'm not looking forward to!".

Winchester had initially come to Ashton's quarters to discuss that very issue. Most of the stations main docking areas were still a work in progress... they had needed to decide exactly where these ships were going to go. Eventually, with a little help from Scottish magic, they came up with a plan to utilise both the external and internal ports.

Drake smiled as the Command Chief moved towards the doors, "See you tomorrow, Graham".

A simple wave as he walked out the door was his response and... with that... he was gone and Ashton was once again by himself, looking at another night of trying to find solace at the bottom of the bottle he now held in his right hand.

Since the death of Patrick he had felt strange about any kind of human interaction... not just that of a romantic notion... but even friendship. It was almost being irreverent to the memories of Patrick. He kept trying to tell himself the old cliche that moving on is what he would have wanted... but it provided no comfort.

He poured himself out another drink and re-positioned himself in the arm chair for comfort. He decided on some music... the traditional accompanied to his evenings.

"Drake to Graves" What was this? This wasn't a request from the computer for music. What on Earth was he doing?!

In the ship's gym, Paul heard his communicator tweet as he was running laps. The running track circled the perimeter of the gym. elevated above the main deck level. His gray sweatshirt was soaked, front and back, and he was sure his hair could use a wash by now. He slowed his pace to a walk and tapped his combadge. "Graves here."

"Do you fancy a couple of drinks, Lieutenant?" Ashton's mind was screaming at him not to do this, but it seemed his body was now acting independently.

In the gym, Paul blinked for a moment but answered readily enough. "Sure. I could go for a pint or two. Where do you want to meet?" He pulled his towel from the waistband of his shorts and mopped at the back of his neck.

"How about Orchids & Jazz? I've heard some amazing things about it," he replied.

"It's a very nice place," Paul said. "Brian plays the piano there some nights. He's quite good. Let me shower, and I can meet you there in...15 or 20 minutes?"

"Sounds good, see you there" He downed the rest of his scotch and jumped up out of the chair. Freezing in position, like a statue, he frowned... what was that feeling when he mentioned Brian's name? Jealousy? He physically shook his head... of course it wasn't.

Moving over to the mirror, he had another decision to make... stay in uniform or go casual. Sliding open a section of the wall next to the mirror, he revealed his poor selection of clothes... it dawned on him that he hadn't been out of uniform since boarding Protector... that had been six months now. Well, it was hardly time to break tradition.

He removed his tunic to reveal the dark green under garment of the SFMC, throwing it on his bed he then removed the Starfleet issue waistcoat (reserved for command staff, for some strange reason) from the wardrobe, threw it on and did it up. It acted as a sort of 'Starfleet casual' look. It would do.

OFF:

A Post By:
Lieutenant Paul Graves
Chief Counsellor
&
Lieutenant Colonel Ashton Drake
Commanding Officer

 

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