Hell Raisers & Beer Drinkers, Part 2
Posted on Sat Jan 25th, 2025 @ 8:23pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Edited on on Sat Feb 15th, 2025 @ 11:03pm
2,749 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Valhalla Bar, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 9
[ON – Continued]
“As for what I do on the ship... Medical sciences. That’s me. Setting up a lab, preparing for... comes next. It’s been...busy.”
She watched him with an easy smile, nodding to what he was saying. Okay, he was a smart one. She'd been on super-sciencey ships before with super-smart people and while no one ever accused Aria Rice of being that, she wasn't *that* daunted by it. Okay, maybe a little but everyone had strength and weaknesses.
What she had noticed was how he had tensed when she had been close. That was the Security officer in her, noticing body language. And it was cool, she knew now not to get too close unless invited. In fact, her sitting on the bar ended up being the best, distance wise.
"Hey, you're the control group, I am the experiment, so better observe me and if I suddenly grow another head or something, you get to analyse me," she said and drained the drink effortlessly. She put the now empty glass down, smiling easily as she looked at him. "I'm here to make sure that no one does anything that'll make them end up in the brig and if they do, I keep them company..." she spoke in a dramatic voice, over the top and even silly, yet the shrug she gave was small and she shifted to sit cross-legged on the bar...but with her boots purposefully not on the bar. "Security. I work security," she added in her normal voice.
Mateo blinked, his grip tightening slightly on his beer as he processed her words. Security? He hadn’t expected that. The easy confidence she projected—the kind that filled a room without effort—seemed more fitting for a hotshot pilot or maybe a daredevil engineer. Security wasn’t the first role that came to mind, and the revelation caught him off guard in a way he hadn’t prepared for.
He shifted his weight, glancing briefly at the now-empty glass she’d set down. Her joke about experiments had been light, playful, but sharper than it seemed at first. He found himself smirking before he realized it, the kind of reaction that came unbidden but lingered longer than it should have.
Control group and experiment. That’s clever.
The humor, though simple, hit in just the right way. It wasn’t often someone else’s wit caught him off guard, and for a moment, he let himself enjoy it.
“Security,” he echoed, his voice low, the single word carrying a faint thread of surprise. He tilted his head slightly, studying her anew. “Huh. Didn’t see that coming.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them—not an insult, but a genuine admission of his own miscalculation. He hesitated for half a beat, his thoughts racing. Most of his run-ins with security had been...well, not exactly stellar. Noise complaints from his quarters when he’d turned the music up too high. The occasional escort to a supervisor’s office when he’d conveniently “forgotten” about a summons. None of it had been malicious, but authority and Mateo had never exactly been on friendly terms.
Still, Aria didn’t fit the image of the security officers who used to show up at his door with tight-lipped expressions and pointed reminders of Starfleet regulations. She felt...different.
He gestured faintly with his glass, his lips quirking into something that might have been a smile. “Guess that means I should watch my volume if I want to avoid a visit from you, huh?”
The humor in his tone was light, but there was a faint edge of self-awareness beneath it. Music had always been his sanctuary—a way to shut out the rest of the universe when it all got too loud. His record collection was one of his most prized possessions, painstakingly curated over the years. And sure, maybe he’d pushed the limits of acceptable volume more than once. It wasn’t the first time security had knocked on his door about it.
He glanced at her again, his brown eyes flicking briefly to the way she perched cross-legged on the bar, her boots conspicuously not touching its surface. The motion was deliberate, thoughtful. Another detail that didn’t quite fit the stereotype he’d unfairly pinned her to moments earlier.
“Honestly, though,” he added, his voice softening, “you don’t really seem like...security. Not the way I think of it, anyway.” His brow furrowed slightly, and he took another sip of his beer before finishing, “I had you pegged for a pilot. Or...I don’t know. Something with more...motion.”
He trailed off, unsure if he’d just complimented her or said something incredibly stupid. It was a fine line, and Mateo was never entirely confident about which side he landed on.
Aria smiled as she looked at him, shaking her head before she jumped off the bar, landing easily on the heeled boots. She slid into a seat instead, leaning back against the bar that way. That way, he could keep sitting how he was sitting, still see the bar, and she could still see his face. "I'm the most unsecurity looking security officer in Starfleet," she declared, smiling as she looked at him. "Don't worry, I know it."
And she was okay with it. Sure, she'd never be as big and tough as most she worked with. But it wasn't all about the...strength of it, physically. It was about making sure it didn't escalate like that. She had her uses. "Between us, I wanted to become a Marine. But I didn't have the..." she gestured, making a face. "...who am I kidding, I didn't pass their requirements. So I shifted my focus and yeah, I could do Security. Trust me, you don't want me try flying anything. We'd be like..." she moved her hand as if it was a shuttle and then made a fist and released it, complete with a booom sound. "I know my strengths and weaknesses and trust me...I'm where you want me to be, keeping an eye on those that need, making sure nothing nasty comes and disturbs you...although with the music, I've tried it, good sound dampening on a Norway class. It'll have to be vibrating through the deck before anyone complains."
Mateo’s gaze followed her as she hopped down from the bar, her landing surprisingly smooth for someone in heeled boots. The ease with which she transitioned to a seat, leaning back against the bar with an air of practiced confidence, wasn’t lost on him. It was fluid, natural—completely at odds with his own tendency to overthink every move.
Her declaration about being the most “unsecurity-looking security officer” made the corner of his lips twitch. He didn’t respond immediately, letting her words linger as he studied her expression. The way she owned the observation—not defensively, just matter-of-factly—was striking. She knew exactly how she came across and didn’t seem interested in apologizing for it.
Good for her.
He took another sip of his beer, the faint bitterness grounding him as she launched into a story about wanting to be a Marine. Her gestures were animated, her hand mimicking a crashing shuttle complete with sound effects. The visual was so unexpected that Mateo’s brow lifted slightly in surprise, and before he could stop himself, he let out a quiet laugh. It wasn’t loud or boisterous—more like a soft exhale—but it was genuine, the kind of laugh he didn’t realize he’d been holding back.
Her mention of Starfleet’s sound-dampening systems pulled him back to his own experiences. For a moment, he could picture himself in his quarters, music playing just loud enough to feel like a cocoon, a barrier between him and the expectations pressing in from all sides.
He shifted his weight, leaning slightly against the bar. “Good to know the Norway-class has solid soundproofing,” he said, his tone dry but faintly amused. “It’s one less thing to worry about if I ever get the urge to rattle the deck plating.”
He paused, his gaze drifting to her empty glass. The neon glow that had swirled in her drink earlier was now just a faint residue at the bottom, catching the light in a way that almost looked intentional. Mateo hesitated for a fraction of a second, considering his next move. He wasn’t great at this—making small talk, offering gestures that weren’t strictly transactional. But something about her playful energy made it feel less daunting.
“You want another?” he asked, gesturing lightly toward her glass. The words came out casual enough, though there was a hint of nervous energy beneath them.
He glanced back at her, his brown eyes searching hers briefly before darting toward the bar. “I mean, whatever that was looked...interesting. Could light the way to Valhalla and back, right?”
The joke was soft, barely there, but it was the best he could manage without overthinking it to death. As the bartender passed by, Mateo held up his own glass in a subtle signal that he wasn’t quite done yet either.
For a moment, he let himself relax, the faint hum of the room around him blending into the background. Her easy demeanor reminded him of Benji—his older brother had always had a knack for breaking down walls without making it feel forced. And just like with Benji, Mateo found himself lowering his guard without fully meaning to. It wasn’t much—just a crack in the armor—but it was enough to let her humor and warmth slip through.
"Of course I want another!" Aria declared, as if there had ever been a question, and smiled innocently to Riku. When she spoke she had put on a rather bad appropriation of a British accent, holding her hands forward. "Please Sir, may I have some more beverage..." she even pouted.
The bartender sighed and nodded, his long black hair moving with it. "Fine, Lieutenant," he said, turning to make the cocktail.
Aria beamed a smile towards Mateo. Another drink meant she hadn't terrified him away, which was good. She wouldn't have been offended if he wanted to go back to people watching. But she liked talking to people, getting to know them. And now they had talked enough for her not to terrify him with compliments. "I got to say this...I love your whole look. Like, that jumper, if you ever wake up and it's gone...then...I totally didn't break in and steal it from you..." she smiled innocently at him.
Mateo’s beer paused midway to his lips as Aria’s exaggerated accent and theatrical delivery pulled a laugh from him—this one less restrained than before. Her playful gestures and the innocent pout she directed at the bartender were so over the top it was impossible not to be entertained. He shook his head slightly, taking a sip of his beer to mask his grin.
Her energy was...something else. He wasn’t used to people who could shift so effortlessly between playful banter and genuine warmth, and he was starting to understand why the room seemed to revolve around her.
But then she turned that energy on him, her tone shifting just enough to catch him completely off guard. The compliment landed squarely, leaving a faint heat creeping up the back of his neck before spreading to his cheeks. Compliments always had a way of catching him off balance, especially when they were this direct. He could feel the tips of his ears burning as he tried to steady himself, setting his glass down carefully on the bar.
He reached for his beer almost reflexively, the cool glass grounding him as he took a slow sip. The crisp bitterness provided a brief reprieve, a moment to regroup before he trusted himself to respond.
“Thanks,” he managed, his voice quieter than usual, though his Argentine accent softened the word further. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the pink streaks as he tried to compose himself. “It’s, uh...a gift, actually. From my mom.” His fingers idly traced the edge of the sweater’s fabric. “She has great taste. Probably better than me, honestly.”
He hesitated for a moment, glancing at her outfit. It was bold—confident, much like her. And for the first time that night, he found himself wanting to keep the conversation going. “You’ve got a good eye too,” he added, gesturing faintly toward her corseted top and red jeans. “I mean, this whole vibe? It works.”
He paused, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as an idea sparked. “Actually, funny you mention stealing this sweater...” He glanced down at the emerald fabric, then back at her. “I almost paired it with a black pleated skirt tonight. But, you know...” He gestured vaguely toward his legs, his tone suddenly playful. “Not quite ready to show these off yet. Gotta keep the mystery alive.”
The humor came out sharper than he expected, and it felt...nice. Comfortable. He didn’t usually open up this quickly, but something about Aria made it easy to let his guard slip, even if just a little.
He picked up his glass again, the condensation cool against his fingers as he took another sip. “And the wardrobe? That’s all my mom and my brother. Every piece, it’s either a gift or something I’ve picked up on a special occasion. Small collection, but it’s all intentional.” He gestured lightly toward the gold hand chain on his left hand, the faint glint catching the light. “This one’s from my brother. A birthday thing. I’m a little picky, but I guess it works out.”
Mateo glanced back at her, the smile lingering as he tilted his head slightly. “So...if I wake up and it’s missing, I’ll know where to look. Just don’t blame me when security comes knocking on your door.”
"I'm the Assistant Chief, I'd order them to go away unless it was my boss," Aria said with a wink and a laugh, at the way that he had said it all. His civilian wardrobe were gifts, but he was picky. So, he had to love every piece. And while he might downplay having taste, it was clear he knew how to assemble an outfit. It was a lost art with replicators. Especially for people who spent most of their time in uniform.
She took the cocktail that was offered her with a genuine thank you, taking a sip and moaning at the flavour, to show her appreciation. Her eyes went back to Mateo and she nodded. "Well, it works for you. The whole thing as well. I don't see many tattoos anymore. On Luna they were everywhere, but in Starfleet? Not so much. Shame really..." she sighed almost wistfully. "Always like a few of them. It's like...little snippets of emotions and life experienced on people's skin, hidden meanings...puzzles and mysteries to be solved."
It was how Aria viewed it anyway. Her own tattoo had been one of hope and love for her father as well as life, death, beauty and the hint of violence in the universe. Not physical violence necessarily, but the violence of just living. Of emotions, of circumstances, of the things that made a person grow or change. She sighed as she heard a familiar chirp of her combadge, reaching for it. "Rice here..."
"Lieutenant Rice, you're needed in the armoury for inventory verification."
She groaned and let her head hit the flat surface of the bar, not hard by any measure, but with annoyance. "Fine, fine..." she looked at Mateo with apology and then at Riku. "Syntehol right?" she asked and gave a small smile at the nod from him. "Alright then..." she stood and stretched before shaking her head. "Okay, maximum effort...see you around, Mateo!" she called out, grinning as she headed out, her head clearing with every step. "Ooh, I should change clothes too..." she muttered to herself and broke into a run to her quarters.
[OFF]
Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Assistant Chief of Security
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]
&
Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir
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