Breakfast is served

Posted on 14 May 2015 @ 9:01pm by https://stgalileo.com/index.php/personnel/character/312
Edited on on 15 May 2015 @ 3:03pm

3,154 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo, Mess Hall
Timeline: MD2, 0700 hours

[ON]

Everyone had to eat sometime, and Wintrow did like to have his breakfast in the mess lately. Especially since he hadn't seen much of Nesh ever since coming back from Rigel. Somehow, he felt she might be avoiding him after he'd told her what had happened to him. He wasn't sure but that was how he felt now.

Yawning, the Betazoid hybrid walked into the mess hall, feeling less than clear headed. He had a headache, and he still felt a little fuzzy. Approaching the bar, he plunked himself down on a stool and rested his head on his arms for a moment. "Coffee please," he murmured, his accent thick as he spoke. "And bacon and eggs on toast please."

"Kid it is way too early for anyone to be awake," Doyle called from behind the bar, his own accent shining through. His head was buzzing, eyes were still half closed in sleep, hair reaching out away from his body. The night before had not been pleasant to his body. "Replicator is all yours, I'm only in to clean up last night's mess. Most of the crew being away at a diplomatic function, some of us left behind had our own party," he caught a glimpse of the rather young, yet handsome man before him. Doyle's face instantly lit up a little as he decided to turn on his charm. Priority one was to fix the hair, which he was already trying to pat down.

"Thank you," Wintrow said drowsily as he got up and dragged himself over to the replicator. "I don't think I'll go out to attend such parties again," he added, then stuck up one finger as he walked. "But I didn't have a drop to drink..." He got his order from the replicator and walked back, dropping his tray onto the counter.

"You were there?" Doyle asked with a very puzzled expression across his brow. He must have had a little more to drink that what he thought he had, evidenced by the tray drop sounding more like an echoing bomb going off in his head. "Shh, not so loud," he pleaded as he rubbed his head.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, cringing involuntarily. "Yes I was there, but I left around midnight to take the doctor home. I didn't go back to it..." He sipped his coffee, then munched on a bite of his toast and egg. "Why wouldn't I be there?"

"I'm usually good at remembering people...even after lots of alcohol. Clearly I had a bit more than I thought I did," Doyle chuckled slightly to himself as he continued his clean up operation.

"Howso? You just said you weren't there...I don't understand."

"Are we on about the same party? The one in here, on the ship? In this room?"

Wintrow shook his head. "I was over on a Klingon ship... I can't remember the name, it's all so vague now. I'm sure my head will clear up somewhere today. Hopefully in the next hour, I'm on duty in an hour. But I so want to go back to bed."

"Me too," Doyle winked, "want to join me?" He was never one to beat around the bush and more forward than some people liked or were used to.

"What?" For the first time since entering the mess, Wintrow looked up, dark blue eyes filled with confusion. "Join you...where?"

Doyle laughed at his innocence, "Never mind, I was going to suggest for cuddles and to continue breakfast, but it's ok."

"C-cuddles?" the boy stammered, looking as if he were to take flight then and there. "N-no sir, just breakfast please." He found a sudden interest in his food again, carefully cutting toast away around the runny yolk in the center.

It was time to deflect and change the topic of conversation, "You can come off Red Alert Starfleet, no worries there." Doyle went to replicate a cold glass of water to help soothe his aching head. "Anyway, the accent, fellow Glasgow boy?"

Wintrow nodded. "Born and raised," he answered proudly, "same as my dad. And you?" He shrugged. "I don't understand the red alert reference sir....what red alert?"

"Your nerves, you nearly shot out your chair. But it is ok. You can stop calling me Sir though and call me Doyle. I'm just a regular 'civie'. Born and raised Glasgow as well. New Gorbals area, right off The Green."

"I grew up towards the coast," the teenager answered, while carefully shoving the yolk into his mouth. "Dad taught me to sail when I was small."

"Port Glasgow or Clydebank areas then I guess?" Doyle quizzed. It had been some time since he had met someone from his home town.

Nodding, Wintrow took another sip from his coffe. "Port," he answered without pause, "born and raised. Dad had a farmhouse with a small patch of land. Very small really, just a barn and a paddock. "And you?"

"Parents both Starfleet and very, very into it. Me, clearly, not as much," Doyle smirked charmingly. "Not something that really worked out for me."

"My dad was a diplomat, he was away alot," Wintrow explained, "I never knew my mom. Dad remarried when I was a few months old. When I was two my half brother and sister were born." He deliberately omitted his stepmother, and did not elaborate on his siblings. "I joined Starfleet when I was seventeen, literally dropped in on a fighter wing and have been flying since."

"You should talk to my friend Grayson then, he had a very similar situation. His father was a Trill Ambassador for the Federation. For all you know, you two crossed paths a few times." Doyle smiled and nodded along.

"Unless he was in Scotland, then it's unlikely. I never met any off-worlders until I left Earth for the first time when I was seventeen. I barely ever left town, unless it was going out to sail with dad." Wintrow shook his head. "But I wouldn't mind meeting your Grayson." Then he paused and tilted his head curiously. "Was?" He queried carefully.

"He's the Chief Engineer, no doubt you will run into him soon if you haven't already," Doyle continued his usual warm and friendly barman smile, even though he was not on duty. "Yeah, was, he passed a little while ago in an accident. He's still a little cut up about it, but seems to have a nice guy there to support him for now." Finally feeling a little hungry, Doyle went to the replicator and ordered his own breakfast, a simple cereal with chilled milk and a large mug of peppermint tea.

"Mine died about a year ago. I'm not exactly close with my stepmother, and I think my dad sent me away to keep me safe at last." He shook his head sadly. "It's good that he has someone. I had, for a while but he left me, and now I guess I'm single again. Though....there's someone I like, but I don't know if she likes me in the same way." He licked his lips nervously. "And I'm a little afraid to do anything..."

"A hottie like you won't be single for long in this ship," Doyle winked, "Fear gives us something though, if it wasn't important or meant something to us, we wouldn't bother or not feel afraid. Best thing in my experience is to just go for something and hope for the best. I am sorry for your loss though, it is tough."

"A... what?" Flustered, Wintrow stared at him, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "She's the admiral's sister... and yes I miss him still. He left quite the void in my life, but thanks to him, I still have a life is what I keep reminding myself. He was killed in a shuttle crash, but they're still not sure on whether it was sabotage or an accident."

"Oh I am so sorry, that is terrible," he stopped shoving food into his face at that moment and decided to try and take things to a cheerier subject, "but yeah, a hottie. Your cute. Attractive. Probably have to beat people away with a stick when they come calling."

The youth went white at that comment and his fork clattered down onto his plate. "Don't say that..." he whispered, clearly not sure where to look or how to act, and appearing to be ready to just flee the room then and there.

"Sorry, forget I said anything," Doyle was about to slink away. Clearly something was up but he darned not pry any further. He always thought a good barman was there to listen, not pry and let people talk to him. "I wonder where the morning staff are, they should be in by now, cleaning this up and not me. I want to head back to bed."

"Maybe they have other duties?" Wintrow suggested as he finished his breafkast. "Do you need help?"

"They shouldn't really, not when it was my turn to be in charge of the duty roster, I should be fine thanks though. You have your shift to start soon though I suppose?"

"In an hour but I'm free for the next thirty minutes or so. If you need the help that is. Is there anything that needs preparation?" Wintrow got up to return his tray to the replicator and have it recycled. "I don't mind helping for a little while. "

"I think just a general tidy and wipe down of tables is all that is needed," Doyle began, "as for preparation, all I do is mix drinks and it might be a bit early for most."

"It is a bit early for spirits," Wintrow agreed timidly, while reaching over the counter for a cloth. "I'll do a few tables before having to go out."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," Doyle yawned, " 'cause I really need to head back to bed."

"If we do it together, then it'll go faster..." Wintrow was already moving off, happy to be able to do something, to steer the conversation away from dates and family history. "Your friend Grayson...what's he like?"

"He's a good guy, really sweet and caring. Often lead a little to blindly in love, in my opinion. But it keeps him happy. I'm glad I am usually around to pick up the pieces after whatever man dumps him. They don't tend to see him for who he is. He usually gets used for sex, for arm candy for a night, or in some cases, as some tool for revenge. As if to say, 'look who I can get' when guys try to get back at their exs or something. He's tough, but quite fragile at times too," Doyle smiled while thinking of his best friend and at one point, former lover.

"That's so wrong," Wintrow answered somewhat fiercely, "it's wrong to just use someone for that, to get what you want. He doesn't deserve this kind of treatment...no-one does."

"Yeah, his current boy seems to like him a bit more than that, just now. They all end up leaving in the end, healed whatever scars, gotten whatever kicks. They don't see the after effect. I do, it hurts to see him that way." Doyle couldn't help but feel those old residual emotions for Grayson stir within him again. He knew he couldn't act on them, for now.

Turning his head sharply, Wintrow watched him. "You still have feelings for him," he blurted out, "why did you split up?"

"Now and again, I think," Doyle replied honestly, "only because I hate seeing him get hurt and want to see him happy. We split when I left the academy. It was a mutual decision...lead by my intentions. We wouldn't be able to keep things going and I know it would have hurt him more in the long run."

"But you're here, together," Wintrow murmured, "a second chance. If me and Shron'd have a second chance I'd take it but we're nowhere near together. He's back on Earth, I'll never go back to Earth. There's nothing for me there, I don't ever want to go there again." His accent grew heavier the more animated he got about his desires.

"Very brogue Scots there," Doyle laughed, "I know what you mean. I have no intentions of returning there. Never know though, if there is something there, I am sure you two will find a way. Grayson and I, maybe. He's not the kind to cheat or I would already be trying to tempt him."

"You should've when he didn't have someone..." He bit his lower lip and looked away. "I'm not going to do anything with the girl I like..not until I feel that she has mutual feelings. She's gorgeous though, and she doesn't use her pheromones on me. Well we tried once, just an experiment because we're roommates and I was her date to Admiral Saalm's wedding...it was unusual to say the least."

"The best relationships always start with unusual stories in my experience," Doyle said as he finished wiping up.

"Unusual stories? Oh well she asked me because we're about the same age, and I'm her roommate. I've been a perfect gentleman, I haven't touched her. Well..not beyond when it was necessary to anyway... How did you meet your ex? Is it as unusual as you just suggested?"

"Not really, thus the not being together anymore. Back at the Academy, you could have considered us the big 'frat boys' on campus. We had the biggest and best parties after finals. We started as good friends, with a mutual interest in goofing off and chasing after other boys. Eventually our chasing put us in each other's arms for a while."

"And what ended it?" Wintrow stopped what he was doing, now fully turning towards the man. "What made you two stop seeing each other?" He was obviously curious, forgetting his somewhat down-ish mood from before.

"I left the Academy. I knew he wouldn't. I needed to get away from things and didn't want to string him along, wonder when we would see each other again. It would have been better in the long run," Doyle replied, remembering the good times he and Grayson had together.

"And yet here you are, and now you have to watch him be with another," the boy answered sympathetically. "And you're not jealous, are you...I don't sense any jealousy."

"Nothing to be jealous about, I know it won't last. I would feel jealous if I felt threatened by his lover, but, in all honesty, I don't." Doyle stated as he returned to his home, behind the bar. "How about you then, plans to woo your roommate? Even just ask them for dinner? I could help prepare something nice you know."

"Maybe when things settle down, after the wargames. When our shifts return to normal." He smiled slightly. "But she's gorgeous alright. Nothing like Shron at all, who was half Andorian. Nesh is a fullblood Orion and just being near her makes me feel better, you know? I can't explain it."

"I get that, I've came across a few Orions in my time behind the bar. Without even trying, they can be mesmerising. I will admit, I've been guilty of falling for some of their charms over the years," Doyle started to potter behind the bar, cleaning the work areas, looking at the bottle storage and giving them a general square up so they were easily accessible later in the day.

"But those weren't on the inhibitors were they?" Wintrow dared, "Nesh is... and then there's the doctor..Have you met the doctor? Warraquim I mean? She's like an angel, truly."

"This bar wasn't strictly Federation controlled, it was a bit less, regulated. That and these particular Orions didn't need the pheromones anyway. Generally, say the right things, touch me the right way and I turn to mush into the willing pursuer's hands," Doyle admitted quite freely. "To be honest, I haven't met too many on the crew yet, and if I have, not talked to them. I'm just the bar man."

"People tell their bartender things they don't tell their doctor," Wintrow mused, "I've met a few of the crew but I don't like to be touched just like that. I...don't really react well to being touched without my consent. It's...a personal issue, I'm trying to work on it but I'm not doing well being crowded either. It's...complicated."

"No need to explain, we all have our quirks. It makes life interesting," Doyle mused," oh and yeah, we bar tenders tend to know more than what we would like to sometimes!" He gave a curt, almost sarcastic laugh.

Nodding, Wintrow reclaimed his earlier seat at the bar and looked up at the man. "Not quite quirks....I've been touched against my will....more than once. This is my way to keep control, to make the decision mine, and not someone else's."

"Oh," Doyle was a little stunned, "I am very sorry for that. Must have been horrible."

Again, the teenager nodded, looking down at his hands. "I still have nightmares," he confessed softly, "I'm taking medication to sleep at the moment."

"All good steps along the way," Doyle tried to sympathise. He never had such a horrible experience, so could not fully comprehend.

"Maybe...I don't want to become dependant on them. It's all herbal though, nothing chemical. But I sure could use a break in my life." He leaned forward, resting his forehead on his hands. "I'm so tired...and I'm on duty shortly..."

"Double raktajino for the road then?" Doyle asked as he headed towards the replicator.

"Sure...though I doubt it'll help but thank you. I just need a few more hours of good, uninterrupted sleep." Except he couldn't sleep, because then the dreams would come...

Doyle handed over the freshly replicated drink in a travel mug, "If I could, I'd have bar tenders be able to write sick notes. Give people the extra R&R they need to be at their best."

"I don't need R&R, I'm not sick...just tired," Wintrow answered, almost a little too defensively. He picked up the mug and lifted it. "Thank you for the coffee, I'll return the mug later."

"No hurries, but we all need a little rest and relaxation now and then, sick, tired or just sick and tired," Doyle called as a friendly, yet hopeful parting shot.

"After my shift, you'll have it back," Wintrow called over his shoulder, "and it's more like sick and tired....I'm tired, not sick." He smiled sadly, before walking towards the door.

"Enjoy your day!" Doyle waved.

"You too," Wintrow called back before disappearing around the corner, outside the mess.

OFF:
Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Helmsman
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

Doyle McAdams
Mixologist
USS Galileo
[PNPC Jones]

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