Faith and Time: Provisions

Posted on 21 May 2022 @ 7:28pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant Commander Lance Quinn (*)

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: OC, Promenade
Timeline: Backstory (between M2+M3, following "Faith and Time: The Fall"")
1216 words - 2.4 OF Standard Post Measure

The promenade was busier than usual. Probably some festival or event that Lance had failed to notice (again) meant that there was more traffic than usual. With no additional Starfleet ships due in dock, he assumed it was more of a local thing. It took him an extra couple of minutes to spot Calliope in the crowd, but it went without saying that there weren't many Orions hanging around the place and she stood out just enough to be easier to find.

"I was going to suggest our usual place for lunch, but perhaps...perhaps not today..." he said, a little broken up by the numbers and the noise. "Somewhere quieter?" He suggested it hopefully, knowing she would likely acquiesce to his preference for peace and quiet.

Turning when she heard Lance's voice break through the buzz, Calliope's eyes were blossoming with a barely contained expression which, on her Orion face, read as purely mischievous. She practically bounced on her toes as she lifted herself to peck him on the cheek with a greeting kiss. "What were you saying?"

"Somewhere quieter?" he repeated, his voice raised this time. He didn't like to do that, hence his pitch for a better venue.

She took his finger tips in both of her hands as she turned him around, back to the center court where the crowd was thickest. "Not this time! I have a better idea!"

His eyes narrowed as he failed to determine how this was a 'better' idea than a peaceful space where they could speak without having to bellow at one another.

"Did you bring a credit chip?" Calliope asked him, knowing Lance usually had it on him. "I left mine at home by mistake when I changed."

"Always," he said, nodding due to the fact that she probably couldn't hear him. Her hands clasped around his and pulled him, involuntarily, forward.

Threading through the busy walk, Calliope brought them to a food cart being manned by two Obsidian men. The older man had a traditional beard which had grown very white while his head had gone completely bald. The younger, who was busy wiping down and reordering the spices and sauces, was rounder than most Obsidian men, almost concealing the peak of his cheekbones in his plump face. At that particular moment the younger was shouting a list to the older one of additional tasks to be handled and the whiskered one was faithfully taking notes in neat Obsidian markings on a small chalkboard on the inside of his trolley station, nodding as he entered each one. As he finished his directives, the old gentleman moved back to his grilling and checked the meats, neatly rearranging them to make room to add more. The younger returned to take more orders and deftly hand out paper wrapped kabobs, pita-rolled shredded meats, and hot plated food in collapsible dishes formed from edible leafy plants.

Calliope queued up with Lance, holding his hand, primarily to keep him from escaping. She knew he hated crowds as much as she felt enlivened by them. Normally she would have compromised and let him select a quiet place— and they needed more such opportunities together which as much as they had to catch up on— but she had her reasons today.

"So in Kalara, they have some of the best street food, they really love to grill. It's a whole art. There are four festivals that feature some type of food." She started ticking them off on the other hand "One is a culmination about hunting these kind of boar-creatures, one honors their herdsmen with a feast bought from the flocks, another is about some sort of aged vegetable-like sauerkraut stuff and cheeses and ale, then there's a spice festival. They love their food."

"Wonderful," he responded, unconvinced. The smell was...unique. For someone who had grown up with a somewhat bland palate, extremes of flavour tended to disagree with him. Or, often, he with them.

As they came to the front of the line, the younger Obsidian looked straight at Lance. "What is your order?" he prompted.

"Something." Lance looked at Calliope for help, but she wasn't listening. "Meat, I suppose."

Meanwhile Calliope was sizing up everything out on the grill. "Yes, this should be good." She said.

The shorter obsidian crossed his arms, growing impatient and looked to the taller man attending the green woman. "What is it she wants?" he asked for clarification.

"Ah, the question I ask myself with alarming regularity..." he sighed. "Calliope, dear? I have no idea what-"

"I'll take it all. All of it. Plus anything you have there-" she pointed to all of the pre-wrapped foods stacked to one side, and then motioned around to the bins, "With sides."

The quieter white bearded associate began to chuckle. "Brother, one sale for the remainder of the day, eh?"

"Calliope. That's...a lot of food. If you're hungry...it's a lot. And we'd be taking their stock," Lance tried to explain, confused by her new quirky approach to what was normally a simple luncheon.

"Yes! Let's buy them out for the day! That's exactly what I'm doing. Let them pack it in early. "

Lance blinked. He knew better than to argue, as much as he would have liked to. "I notice you didn't bring your own credit..." he muttered.

As the brothers took to collecting everything ready to eat into supply boxes and crates they could scare up, Calliope pointed to a cart. "How much to borrow the little hand truck? We can return it later."

The older brother handed each of them a kabob as he cleaned off his grill and told the other patrons they were closing the stand.

"Really?" Lance was starting to draw a line. "Calliope. Do I need to ask Sickbay to check you over for some sort of parasite...?"

"Oh stop," She laughed musically, swatting him on the arm. "It's not all for me." Calliope said around a mouthful as she munched from the end of the skewer. "We're going to take some of their own food to the Turani recovering in sickbay."

"The who?" he asked.

"The Turani. Not *all* of the Turani, of course. Just the ones transferred for intensive care." She wondered for a moment if she had enough food. Maybe she should see if there was another food cart on the other end of the Promenade...

"I don't see how this is our problem," he responded, frown deepening. This was startlingly out of the blue for her, something she knew he was generally uncomfortable with.

Calliope licked her fingers as she considered how to explain it to him. She was too happy with her plan for Lance's disapproval to make a dent in her mood. As she polished off her kabob she took his from his hand as well, suspecting that he wasn't going to brave any new food today. "It's so good." She approved. "God, I've been so hungry. I lost count of my laps today. I guess I found my stride... or stroke or something."

He could have argued the point all day, but by this time the cart had been purchased, the food was essentially theirs, and the vendors didn't look like they'd be interested in negotiating a refund any time soon...