Chapter Text
Part One (Cont’d)
This is a date, Denella thought to herself.
At the very least, that certainly seemed to be what her dining partner thought it was. And it had become impossible for the Orion to even deny it to herself. Whatever it was they were doing tonight, they weren’t just grabbing a quick bite to eat and discussing tomorrow’s repair schedule.
They sat at a table for two next to one of the large panoramic windows that covered the walls of the fanciest restaurant Denella had ever been in. Small padds in front of them displayed an extensive list of fittingly expensive cuisine.
Around the rest of the restaurant, the tables were filled with impeccably dressed patrons enjoying their own meals. Next to the sea of tailored suits and elegant dresses, she found herself feeling thoroughly out of place in her shabby dark blue overalls. Even if it had been their turn on rotation.
Opposite her, Juna Erami was having a lot less trouble fitting in. Denella had arrived at the restaurant the Bajoran had chosen for them to find that she was already seated, and had found the time to slip into a long, flowing black dress, complete with a polished silver necklace and a subtle perfume that hung in the air around the table.
Even though this didn’t seem like the short of place the pilot of the shuttle Kendra would often frequent, Erami had somehow made herself look as though she had been born to dine here.
Since Denella had escaped from the Syndicate, she was used to brushing off any overtly romantic overtures towards her. They were such a tiresome occurrence as soon as anyone saw the green skin that she had developed the confidence to deal with them. But in this situation, something was different. And she couldn't put her finger on what.
It seemed like everything, from the chic surroundings, to Erami’s look, to her own attire, was making her feel incredibly awkward and unsure of herself.
Not to mention the fact that this was clearly, definitely, a date.
“Um,” she managed, as she looked around at the other diners, “I was kinda expecting to go somewhere more…casual.”
As usual, she felt as though she was attracting a lot of stares from around the room. Though this time, most of them felt entirely disdainful.
In contrast, Erami seemed completely at ease with her dining companion’s choice of attire. “Hey, don’t worry,” she smiled, leaning forwards and subtly gesturing around the restaurant, “You know how many women in this place are jealous about how comfortable you look right now?”
Denella noted a Denobulan woman in a satin evening dress giving her an especially sour look from a nearby table, and knew that regardless of how comfortable her clothing might look, she couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable if she had tried.
“But, I mean,” she muttered, gesturing back at Erami’s getup for the evening, “You look…”
“Psh, this old thing—? No, you know what? Not gonna bother with the false modesty bit. Took me two hours to get ready. I look amazing.”
She smiled back warmly, but the Orion didn’t relax one iota. A brief, awkward silence descended before Erami patiently continued.
“So…like I said when I suggested we meet up tonight, I thought this might give us a chance to, y’know, talk?”
Denella relaxed slightly at this, seeing a chance to return to familiar territory. “Right,” she nodded, “That’s actually a really good idea. Cos I was thinking that, tomorrow morning, instead of starting with the Bounty, first we should finish reassembling your warp coil and make sure we get the alignment of the—”
“Woah, woah,” Erami jumped in, stifling a laugh, “We can talk shop tomorrow. Was kinda hoping for a bit less of an engineering debrief and a bit more, y’know, friendly conversation?”
Denella stifled the latest of what felt like a never-ending spree of grimaces and managed a nod of understanding. “Yeah, I know. It’s just—I’m not…great. With new people. Like this.”
The Bajoran nodded sympathetically and took a sip from one of the glasses of water on the otherwise empty table. “Ok,” she smiled, “How about I go first, then. What do you wanna know?”
Denella even struggled for a response to that, so Erami continued for her.
“So, I was born on Bajor. Rakantha Province. Grew up in a labour camp with my family. After the liberation, I got the hell out of there. Worked on a Bajoran freighter for a while making shuttle runs to Tellar Prime. Then, eventually saved up enough to get my own ship and set out on my own.”
“The Kendra?” Denella asked, putting her discomfort aside for long enough to ask the question, feeling a little more relaxed now Erami was leading the conversation.
She noted the slightest of flinches on the Bajoran’s face before she replied.
“Let’s just say I’ve been through a fair few ships since then,” she offered, before breezily changing the subject again, “Let’s see, what else. I’m a big fan of old Bajoran folk music, which is totally dorky but you don’t ever get to say that to my face. My favourite food is Kava root stew, but only the way my mother used to make it. And I once flew a sublight raider into a white dwarf star’s atmosphere for a bet and spent six weeks in a medical unit getting treated for radiation burns. Son of a katterpod farmer that made the bet with me didn’t even pay up.”
She took a breath and another sip of water at the end of her flowing monologue, and gestured back across the table with another warm smile.
“See? How easy was that? Right, your turn.”
Denella breathed out slowly and nervously looked around again. She seemed to be getting less stares now, though she was wondering why the waiting staff seemed to be ignoring them. After a moment, she turned her attention back to Erami’s expectant face.
It’s just a nice meal, in a nice restaurant, with a nice person, she told herself.
“I grew up on Orpheus IV,” she began, her throat suddenly feeling as dry as sandpaper, “An Orion colony. Free Traders.”
“You don’t say?” Erami murmured, seemingly entranced with this most basic of facts, “You know, there’s a trader with a stall right here on Kervala Prime that gets a shipment from the Orpheus system once a month. But I’ve never been. Nice place?”
Denella felt her insides constrict slightly. She looked down at the table, sadly. “It was,” she replied quietly, “Before…”
She tailed off immediately and reached for her own glass of water, taking a long gulp that seemed to do nothing to help her dry throat. Erami winced in understanding.
“Sorry, that’s probably a bad place for us to start, hmm?”
“No, no,” Denella lied quickly, “It’s just—I don’t usually talk about that part of my life. With anyone, really. I don’t know why I…”
“I get it,” Erami nodded sadly, “You probably noticed that I kinda glossed over the ‘labour camp’ part of my bio. But we can talk about anything else, honestly. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Denella took another glug of water, then shrugged. “You wanna hear about how I recalibrated the Bounty’s impulse drive last month to improve her reaction control times in orbital flight?”
“Kinda walked into that one, didn’t I?” Erami smiled back with a slight shake of her head.
“I’m sorry,” Denella sighed, glancing at a passing waiter who once again completely ignored their empty table, “I’m not usually like this. Or…maybe I am, I dunno. I don't usually do this kind of—I’m just—I’m better around people I know. You know?”
“Fair enough,” Erami nodded, “So, how does someone become one of those people?”
She offered another disarming smile, but Denella felt her discomfort levels rising again. Whether the Bajoran had meant it or not, there was something behind her smile. An obvious edge of attraction that she’d seen in smiles sent her way too many times over the years.
Another waiter sauntered past the table, carrying a steaming plate of fragrant stew to another group of patrons.
“Maybe I just need to order something,” she managed, “I’m starving.”
Erami’s face dropped. “Oh,” she said awkwardly, “You haven’t ordered yet?”
“How could I?” Denella asked, looking around in confusion, “The staff are all walking past. Nobody’s come over to take our—”
She turned back around to see a slender member of the waiting staff in an impeccably replicated white shirt placing three small plates of aromatic food in front of Erami, before immediately turning and walking off again.
“Crap,” the Bajoran sighed, “I thought you knew. It’s a Lumerian restaurant. All the staff are low level empaths.”
“Wh—?” Denella gasped, glancing worriedly at a passing waiter, “They’re all reading our—?”
“Really not as weird as it sounds. Everything on the menu is designed to elicit a very subtle and specific emotional reaction, which the staff are trained to filter out specifically. To order, you just look through the menu, and concentrate on the dishes you want.”
She paused thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged.
“Ok, It’s kinda exactly as weird as it sounds. But, y’know, these fancy places need a gimmick to stand out these days. You know there’s a Tellarite restaurant on Kovar IV where you’re encouraged to burst into the kitchen and verbally abuse the chef in lieu of a tip?”
Flustered, Denella looked down at the menu and tried to make sense of the dizzying array of options listed on the padd. “B—But, all I’m feeling now is embarrassed! What happens then? They bring me a plate of leftovers and tip it over my head?”
Erami stifled a giggle, just as the same waiter brought over three more small plates and set them down in front of her. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I ordered way too much anyway. We can just share.”
But her soothing words didn’t seem to have an impact on the flustered woman in the scruffy overalls on the other side of the table, who on top of everything else was now convinced that the Denobulan woman in the satin dress was staring at her again.
“I just—I don’t know what any of this is! Crap, is this the dessert menu?”
As she continued to fret, Erami reached out her hand and placed it gently on top of Denella’s own hand that was resting on the table.
It was meant as a calming measure, but as soon as their hands made contact, the Orion woman pulled her hand away so fast, it was as if she’d just touched a live plasma circuit. In an instant, she realised that she didn’t want to be here any more.
Erami realised her mistake immediately, but it was too late.
“Ah,” she managed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine,” Denella said as she dropped the padd, “It’s not your—I just—I think I need to go.”
She stood up so quickly that she ended up knocking the glasses of water over, soaking the pristine tablecloth in the process and earning herself a fresh round of stares from the other patrons.
“Denella—” Erami began.
But before she could get any further, Denella had taken off for the exit.
Erami sighed in frustration and looked down at the selection of untouched food in front of her, idly wondering exactly what the protocol was to extricate herself from an empathic restaurant.
In the end she decided: To hell with protocol.
“Hey!” she called out to the nearest waiter, “Can I get this to go?”
A short distance away, the Denobulan woman in the satin dress found a new target to stare at.