An Irish--Welsh?--woman Walks into a Bar

Posted on Wed 2nd May, 2018 @ 8:38am by Carlo Rienzi

1,154 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: Pub 10-42, Deck 595
Timeline: Current

Carlo sighed happily as someone set the "juke box" to play some Lords of Iron by Antti Martikainen. It was old, Celtic metal rock, with a symphonic layering, and it sounded great, as far as he was concerned. He hummed under his breath along with the music as he poured a Warp Core Breach and set it and a glass of water in front of one of his customers at the bar.

"Interesting music," Petty Officer Sherman Morgan said as he took a deep pull from his drink. "Isn't your name Carlo? I thought this was an Italian place," he went on.

Carlo chuckled. "I like to have a variety of music here, whatever I and my customers like. Sometimes, I like real head-banging stuff, like this. Sometimes I like Italian opera. It depends."

"Oh," Morgan began. Then he paused and said to Carlo in a low voice, "Well, hey there! You did say, 'whatever you and your customers like.' That is one fine-looking woman walking in the door." He was actually looking at the mirror behind the bar, where he could see the customer approaching from behind him. She was slender, with large eyes, luscious, satiny, dark brown hair, and a gorgeous smile.

Carlo glanced toward the door. "She's one of the Marine fighter pilots, I think. I'd pour some ice-water on it, if I were you."

"Now you're making it like a challenge," Morgan said.

Carlo shrugged. "Just warning you."

"Warning heeded," Morgan said with a smile. "Besides, she looks nothing like my girl."

* * *

The music caught Rose off guard as she entered but it brought a smile to her face either way as it brought back memories of being home. Now her family had always known how to throw a party and she had grown up on Celtic music back in Wales. She walked up to the bar. "Interesting choice," she smiled brightly.

"Glad you like it," Carlo said, smiling. "Welcome to Pub 10-42. May I get you a drink or some food?"

With the music playing, she only had one drink on her mind now. "Thank you. You wouldn't happen to have any Welsh Whisky? The Penderyn Distillery recipe?"

Carlo gave her an apologetic look. "I am so sorry, but I don't have any of that on tap; I'll have to replicate you some. Is that all right? And if you plan to come by here regularly, I can order some of the real thing for you. How do you spell the name of that brewery?"

Rose tried to hide her distate at the mention of the replicator but after all, this was Starfleet and alcohol consumption was often frowned upon. However, she managed to smile. "Sure, I'll give it a try I suppose and if you could get some of the real stuff delivered, I'd forever be in your debt. It's spelled Pen-der-yn Distillery.

"If you prefer real beer, which anyone with sense does," Carlo said, I do have Bass lager, Guinness, Guinness Extra Stout, and Sam Adams Boston Lager on draught. Those would probably taste the closest to what your looking for."

"Sam Adams sounds good," O'Malley grinned. "So who chose the music?" she asked between to two men.

"He did," Morgan said with a nod toward the bartender. He raised his longneck to her. "Sherman Morgan, Security. Carlo here tells me you're a fighter pilot. Are you?"

O'Malley shook her head with a sheepish smile. "Oh no. I could never be a fighter pilot. I'm simply Colonel Wellington's Adjutant." She then looked at Carlo. "You have an ear for Celtic Music?" she continued to smile. "I used to sing all the time at family get togethers back on Earth."

"I love the stuff," Carlo said. "There's nothing better for dancing--well, except slow jazz--it's just fun. I first heard it at the New York Renaissance Festival up in Tuxedo. I've been listening to it ever since. Is your family Celtic in some way?"

O'Malley stifled a laugh. "You could say that. Most of my family is Welsh but I also have members from Ireland. It always makes for an interesting get-together."

Carlo gave her an interested glance as he swiftly looked something up on his computer screen and then programmed the drink replicator. "How do you want this--neat, on the rocks, as a shot, some other way?" Carlo slid his fingers over the screen and ordered a case of Penderyn's Merlyn Cream Liqueur. "You're Welsh, eh? So you do eisteddfods and ceilidhs and stuff like that?"

"On the rocks, thank you. And yes, but it's usually done at my family get togethers," Rose replied

"You must have a large family," Carlo said. "Mine is small, by Italian standards. Do you speak Welsh?"

"Ydw dwi yn. Ydych chi'n siarad Eidaleg?" Rose grinned.

Carlo had no idea exactly what else she was saying, but he picked out "Italic," from "Eidaleg" somehow and grinned back at her, extrapolating the rest from that one word. "Si! Mia nonna mi ha insegnato l'italiano dall'infanzia." He entered the last specification for Rose's order into the replicator, and it produced the Penderyn Whisky on the rocks. He placed a napkin under the rocks glass and passed the drink to her, along with a tumbler of water. "That was amazing. I don't hear too many people speaking Welsh."

Rose grinned. "My mother had alot to do with that. She taught me Welsh at an early age--to keep tradition alive as she would say. My father was Irish so he would often tease her about it."

"Did you learn Gaelic, too?" Carlo asked.

"A little. But not as well as Welsh," Rose replied as she accepted the drink from Carlo.

Carlo took a moment to attend to a couple of other customers and to refresh Morgan's drink before he made his way back to Rose. "So I wonder if it would be possible to hold a ceilidh here?" He mulled over it. "I'm sure I could play just recorded Celtic music here some evening, but I'd rather do what they call an 'Irish session,' when you get a group of musicians who just jam together. Or sing. The thing is, I'm not sure how many Celtic people on the station are that into their roots." He glanced at Rose. "What do you think? Would anyone enjoy coming to something like that?"

Rose took a drink from her beer and then smiled after swallowing it. "Sure! It sounds like fun! I know a few Celtic songs that my father taught me."

Carlo's eyes widened. "You'd sing? That would be fabulous, if you were willing."

"Of course. I need the break," Rose smiled.

"All right, then. Let's plan something," Carlo said and reached under the bar for a PADD and stylus.

 

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