Drink and Gossip, Part 1 of 4
Posted on Sat Apr 19th, 2025 @ 5:34pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Lieutenant JG Aria Rice & Petty Officer 1st Class Gabriel Stark
2,475 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Valhalla Bar, Deck 6, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 13
[ON]
"Okay, okay, let's....just pick randomly!" Aria Rice declared, closing her eyes and moving her finger. She circled it around, humming before she pointed randomly at the drinks list. "Oh! Cardassian Sunrise! Classic!" she smiled and looked over at Riku with hope. "Pleeeeease?"
She was meeting Gabriel Stark here and had dressed for the occasion. This time, high heeled boots, thick black tights since the skirt she wore was short enough to remind her of the length of the skirt uniform from years ago, just a little bit more...well, fun! It was mostly black, except for a dark red pattern weaved into it. She had teamed it with a corseted black top with a layer underneath with long sleeves, a paler grey pattern against black. And her skull fingerless gloves, just because she had felt a little cold today.
She had streaked her hair with dark red and since she was off duty it was straight. It wasn't like it was that early at Valhalla, but she had sussed out that it was the best time for a little life while still having the ability of getting seats. Right now, everyone's duty shifts were a bit...all over the place as far as she could tell. That would change once they left space doc.
She watched with excitement at the drink being prepared, her eyes shining with it. And yes, she had put on her makeup for going out. Like, why wouldn't she? Go a little bit more intense with the eyeliner, just because she could. There was a lot Lieutenant Junior Grade Aria Rice could do for fun...and yeah, dressing up for a fun night out was one of the things she did.
The soft hum of conversation and the low thrum of music greeted Mateo as he stepped into Valhalla, the Fenrir’s bar and social hub. The space was alive but not overwhelming, a delicate balance between energy and ease. Warm lighting pooled in soft halos across polished tables, reflecting off glassware and the occasional metallic thread woven into the bar’s décor. The scent of aged liquor mingled with something faintly citrusy, likely from one of the more extravagant cocktails being crafted behind the bar.
Mateo took a slow, measured breath as he stepped forward, hands tucked loosely into the pockets of his black linen joggers. The relaxed elastic waistband sat comfortably against his hips, the fabric swaying with each deliberate stride. His charcoal-gray sweater, a loosely woven knit, draped effortlessly over his frame, the open weave allowing glimpses of the fitted black tank beneath. The layering added a subtle play of texture, understated yet deliberate, the contrast between the structured tank and the softer drape of the sweater mirroring the careful curation of his appearance.
The soft clink of silver against skin accompanied the shift of his wrist as he withdrew one hand, the cuff bracelet encircling his left arm catching the light in a muted sheen. Renata’s gift. A small, grounding weight that sat snug against his pulse, a quiet tether to something far from here. His lip hoop remained in place, as always, a familiar presence at the corner of his mouth, subtly gleaming each time his lips parted. His nails, painted a deep pink to match the streaks in his hair, tapped absently against his thigh, a quiet rhythm only he could hear.
Though his movements were controlled, his posture was unburdened—not quite loose, but far from the rigid tension he often carried during duty hours.
He wasn’t here for long. Just one drink, maybe two, enough to unwind before he called it a night. A quiet ritual to take the edge off the day. He had no intention of lingering or engaging in forced small talk, though if someone happened to strike up a conversation, he wouldn’t retreat from it either.
The bartender caught his eye, and Mateo shifted toward the counter, rolling one sleeve up to his forearm with absent precision. His tattooed fingers drummed idly against the polished surface as he considered his options. Beer. Simple, reliable, and comfortably familiar. He was about to place his order when—
A flicker of movement. A glimpse of a distinct dark red streak against straightened hair.
He didn’t need to guess. Aria Rice.
Mateo’s lips twitched, a small, barely-there curve that wasn’t quite a smile but held the ghost of one. He had only met Aria once—right here, in Valhalla, not long after he arrived aboard the Fenrir—but he hadn’t forgotten her. She was hard to forget.
There was something about her that stood out. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, the way her humor seemed effortless but sharp. He had liked her. She had been one of the few people he met early on who didn’t make him feel like he had to navigate the conversation like a minefield.
And now, there she was, seated nearby, watching her drink being prepared with unmistakable excitement.
His gaze drifted to the cocktail taking shape in front of her—a Cardassian Sunrise, its layered hues brilliant even under the dim bar lighting.
The beer he had been about to order suddenly felt unimaginative. Predictable. He exhaled softly, fingers drumming against the bar once more.
Maybe he should say something.
He could just let it go—grab his drink, keep his night uncomplicated. But there was something about Aria that made the effort feel worth it.
Still, he hesitated, shifting his weight slightly, fingers idly tracing the rim of a napkin on the bar. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her—just that he didn’t want to assume she remembered him the way he remembered her. One meeting wasn’t much, after all.
Still, something about the familiarity of her presence made it easier to step out of his own way.
"Aria," he greeted, voice just loud enough to carry over the bar's background hum. His tone was casual, almost testing the waters—an opening that left room for her to either recognize him immediately or make him reintroduce himself.
A beat of silence stretched between them, then—before he could overthink it—he nodded toward her drink.
"If I wanted something other than a beer, what would you recommend?"
The question felt like a safe entry point. Unassuming. Easy.
If she encouraged it, he might actually take her suggestion.
"Mateo!" Aria beamed a smile at him when she saw him, running her eyes over him with appreciation of the outfit. "Looking absolutely stunning, I think that is a bit of a trend with you..." she reached out for the menu, humming as she looked over at it, considering it. "Oh, if you want sour, I'd go for the bifrost. So that's blue Saurian brandy, lemon juice, cane sugar and a drop of Risa's version of Kali-fal...as I've never tried real Romulan Kali-fal, can't promise it's real. Or if you want to be awake for ages, try the Romulan Warbird...which is just an espresso martini if you ask me, but hey ho, it's a classic in Starfleet. I think it is because if you drink enough of them, you think you're seeing Romulan warbirds!"
She grinned as she sat back and studied him, taking in his features and thinking about what she thought he'd like. "Get the Fenrir's Jaws. It's got some chili vodka in it, gives it a nice kick, and the cinnamon makes it feel toasty warm."
Mateo hadn’t expected much from his greeting—maybe a polite nod, a fleeting acknowledgment. Instead, Aria beamed, eyes sweeping over him with clear appreciation.
The compliment landed before he had a chance to brace for it, knocking him off balance in a way he wasn’t prepared to admit. Heat crept up his neck, pooling under his skin in a telltale blush. He exhaled a quiet half-scoff, dropping his gaze to the bar as if that might ground him. Compliments weren’t familiar territory. Most people’s first impressions of him were usually difficult, dismissive, or outright hostile. This wasn’t that. This was easy.
Aria, mercifully, didn’t dwell on it, already flipping through the menu, rattling off recommendations. He listened, grounding himself in the cadence of her voice as she moved through each option. Bifrost? Maybe. Romulan Warbird? Absolutely not. Then came Fenrir’s Jaws—chili vodka, cinnamon, spice that burned and warmth that lingered. That, he could work with.
A smirk ghosted across his lips as he nodded to the bartender. “I’ll take the Fenrir’s Jaws.”
His fingers tapped against the bar, the last of his lingering hesitation bleeding out with the steady rhythm. He glanced at her again, expression unreadable but softer around the edges. Most people remembered him for the wrong reasons—if they remembered him at all.
“Didn’t think you’d remember me.” The words slipped out without pretense, neither self-deprecating nor an attempt at humor. Just honest. But she had. And he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.
"Of course I remember you!" Aria looked at him with alarm, as if she couldn't believe that he'd be forgettable. At least the hair and the clothes. Maybe in uniform? She tried to envision it, couldn't, and then dismissed it. She sat back and took her drink to sip. "I got a really good memory for, you know...people. Helps in my job. Oh! I am meeting Gabriel here, he's in Security too. You got to stay and have a drink with us, I think you'd like him," she added, quickly.
She did think they had a good chance to get on, with what she knew about Mateo from their little meeting. And Gabriel...well, she loved her friend and she was sure she could smooth things out if either of them over-used their sarcasm muscles. She was a good sidekick like that.
Mateo blinked, caught between amusement and mild disbelief. Aria’s certainty—like the idea of forgetting him was unthinkable—was almost enough to make him laugh.
His fingers stilled against the bar. That was… unexpected. People rarely held onto him for good reasons. He was trouble, a problem to solve, a name attached to a reprimand. If he lingered in memory, it was never for something good. But Aria? She remembered him because she wanted to.
That was new.
He took a sip of his drink, the chili vodka and cinnamon settling warm in his chest, grounding him as she kept talking—right up until the trap was set.
Mateo nearly choked. His jaw tightened, instincts flaring, already scanning for an exit. A drink? Fine. A conversation? Manageable. But willingly extending his social tolerance for an unknown variable named Gabriel? That was asking a lot. And Aria? She wasn’t asking. A refusal wouldn’t be taken as a polite decline—it was merely an opening bid.
Sighing, halfheartedly resistant but already losing the battle, he glanced at her. “And if I say no?” Because if anyone could argue him into staying, it was Aria Rice.
"I'll have to trip you," Aria said, giving a serious nod as she looked at him. "And then most likely use the mauve silk scarf of that lovely person over there to tie your hands and feet...and then sit on your back until Gabriel gets here..."
She sighed dramatically as she used the umbrella in her drink to stir it. "And then I'm going to have to lie as to why I have tied you up in the middle of the bar, most likely get discovered, put in the brig, get pulled in front of the Captain and then demoted for assault on a member of this crew as well as theft..." she shook her head and pouted, looking at him.
"And you don't want that on your conscience..." she finished with another sigh...and then smiled with warmth.
Mateo exhaled through his nose, feigning deep contemplation as he swirled his drink. “So what you’re saying is, if I leave, I’m personally responsible for your spiraling into a life of crime.”
He tapped a finger against his glass, eyes glinting with amusement. “And here I thought Security was supposed to prevent that sort of thing.”
Lifting the drink to his lips, he took a slow sip, letting the cinnamon heat settle before exhaling with mock resignation. “Alright. Fine. You win. I’ll stay. But if anyone asks, I was detained by Security under highly suspicious circumstances.”
He set his glass down, smirking. “Might even file a complaint. Unlawful restraint, drink interference, excessive dramatic flair… you know, real serious charges.”
"Nah, nothing I couldn't talk myself out of and get demoted for," Aria said playfully, looking at him with warmth. "Every few years I get myself down to Ensign again, just to avoid ending up as Chief. It's worked so far," she sipped her drink, smiling as she saw Gabriel. "Oh!" she waved to catch his attention. "Gabriel!"
Gabriel waved back, a grin forming easily on his lips. His dark hair was styled effortlessly back, and his matching dark eyes were filled with warmth at seeing his friend. He started to move towards her, his body finding the rhythm of the music as he sauntered across the thrumming bar. He'd become a master of making the most out of bars over the years; he could treat the smallest ship's lounge as a thriving, heaving club when he wanted to.
The black leather like trousers seemed as though they might have been tailored to Gabriel, and his dark shirt had an almost sheer quality that made it shimmer a deep purple in the light. As he got closer, his slender frame bent a little as he held his arms out to the side. "There's my best girl..." Gabriel grinned, heading straight for her as he slid his arms around her itty-bitty waist and kissed her cheek.
Aria laughed as she hugged him back, kissing his cheek in return. "Oh, such a charmer! I am the only girl you like to spend time with..." she winked and pulled back, her hand touching his arm. "Gabriel, this is Mateo, he's a brainy science guy and I'm trying to expand his horizons for cocktails. Mateo, this is Gabriel, my best friend, trusted Security buddy and most likely the number one reason my liver gets tutted at in Medical..." she winked at the last and sat back.
[OFF - To be continued in Part 2]
Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir
&
Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Security Officer
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]
&
Petty Officer 1st Class Gabriel Stark
Security Officer
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Blake]
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