[ James hands her the drink without asking, casually pressing it into La’an’s fingers, and then takes the first fortifying swig of his own. He’s been stewing on this particular subject ever since the subspace anomaly, and although he hadn’t especially planned or rehearsed what he was going to say, he’d resigned himself to just winging it. Improv has usually worked out in his favour. Although it had let him down with La’an’s actual confession; he’d simply been too caught off-guard to know how to respond before they were both summoned away. There weren’t any convenient social etiquette guides on how to address I had a connection with an alternate timeline version of you, but he’s gone now.
But he’s been thinking about it. And he and Carol are the very definition of on-again off-again, and this year, they’ve spent most of it off. He’s been a girl-in-every-port kinda guy in his younger years. But he’s getting older, ostensibly more responsible with his officer’s commission, and so maybe it’s time to reconsider and see if he, too, could learn to change. To put down roots. Make connections, even when they’re bizarre and probably breaking some temporal rules. ]
A mulligan, a do-over, a blank slate. Have you ever golfed? My dad’s big on golfing. Anyway, my point being—
[ Cocktail in one hand, open palm in the other, he reaches out to offer an oddly formal handshake. A hello, although there’s a cheeky dimpled smile in the corner of his mouth at the conceit as he continues: ]
Hi, I’m James Kirk, first officer of the USS Farragut.
[ A do-over. A blank slate. Both of those resonate with her in profound ways because of her experience with James in the past. Meeting Jim at all had felt a bit like a do-over, a chance to try for what she'd almost had with the other version of him who had known her when she was a blank slate. But a do-over now for the two of them? For what purpose? What is he getting at?
Her left hand holds the cold cocktail glass, the vibrant liquid promising a vicious hangover for most of the people in attendance. Her right hand feels like it's been detached from her body as it wraps around his hand, her fingers pressing against his skin in a solid grip.
Surreal, that's the word for it. This entire encounter feels surreal. ]
La'an Noonien-Singh, chief of security for the Enterprise. [ Her hand is still holding his for what is a few moments too long, and she pulls her back with a quick intake of air. Forcing her mask of cordiality into place, she offers him a friendly smile. ] I've heard a lot about you from your brother.
[ Okay, good, she’s rolling with it. (Even when their personalities were such stark opposites, their synchronicity kept cropping up in little ways: suggesting the same maneuvers, choosing the same clothes.) He couldn’t even fully explain what he’s after, either, except for a fresh meeting stripped of that baggage, the emotional weight, the false start. And now they both know the truth. ]
Only good things, I hope. Little brothers can be a pain in the ass. Even I can admit that. [ James’ smile is bright, and he moves so he’s standing comfortably beside her, both of them angling so they have a clear view of the rest of the bar, the entrances and exits. ]
I just figured it was about time we got that drink, since it looks like the ship isn’t going to blow up around us for once. And so I can get to know you, properly, and you can get to know me.
[ He delivers that ever-so-slight emphasis on the word me. The nod to what they’re both aware of. ]
[ He moves beside her and her breath catches in her throat. It's stupid, and she's being ridiculous in letting her emotions get the best of her like this, but even with how hard she'd tried to let go of her feelings since their conversation, they come rushing right back in with his close proximity. She finds herself taking a large sip of the bright green drink in an attempt to calm her nerves.
That emphasis isn't lost in her — she has to shove down the pang of grief that spikes through her. He isn't James, she knows that all too well, and it'll be better for the both of them if she finds more ways to keep them separate in her mind. ]
Well, we'd best get to it. The calm never seems to last long around here.
[ The joke doesn't quite land, the words coming out a bit more strained than she'd intended, but hopefully he'll take the encouragement for what it is. ]
[ It’s a tiny cracked door, but he’ll take it and sidle his way in. He’s been shot down in far worse ways. And James takes the conversation and La’an’s strained words in stride as he always does, with a cheerful sip of his drink, casual and affable and unflappable as if everything about this conversation is perfectly normal.
It’s one of his strengths: that easy charm, the way he often befriends people by not working himself into knots about it. ]
Seriously. Seemed like I had to buy you a drink before we all dissolved into blobs of paint, or wound up phased halfway across the universe, or turned into dinosaurs, or [ meeting our evil twins, he almost says, but thankfully manages to swallow it at the last second, pivoting: ] being transformed into our childhood selves or something. The Farragut’s had its share of weird incidents, sure, but the Enterprise seems to take the cake.
Not that that’s a bad thing, [ James is quick to add, shooting a sideways glance at her. ] It’s admirable, actually. How this crew works the problem together.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But he’s been thinking about it. And he and Carol are the very definition of on-again off-again, and this year, they’ve spent most of it off. He’s been a girl-in-every-port kinda guy in his younger years. But he’s getting older, ostensibly more responsible with his officer’s commission, and so maybe it’s time to reconsider and see if he, too, could learn to change. To put down roots. Make connections, even when they’re bizarre and probably breaking some temporal rules. ]
A mulligan, a do-over, a blank slate. Have you ever golfed? My dad’s big on golfing. Anyway, my point being—
[ Cocktail in one hand, open palm in the other, he reaches out to offer an oddly formal handshake. A hello, although there’s a cheeky dimpled smile in the corner of his mouth at the conceit as he continues: ]
Hi, I’m James Kirk, first officer of the USS Farragut.
no subject
Her left hand holds the cold cocktail glass, the vibrant liquid promising a vicious hangover for most of the people in attendance. Her right hand feels like it's been detached from her body as it wraps around his hand, her fingers pressing against his skin in a solid grip.
Surreal, that's the word for it. This entire encounter feels surreal. ]
La'an Noonien-Singh, chief of security for the Enterprise. [ Her hand is still holding his for what is a few moments too long, and she pulls her back with a quick intake of air. Forcing her mask of cordiality into place, she offers him a friendly smile. ] I've heard a lot about you from your brother.
no subject
Only good things, I hope. Little brothers can be a pain in the ass. Even I can admit that. [ James’ smile is bright, and he moves so he’s standing comfortably beside her, both of them angling so they have a clear view of the rest of the bar, the entrances and exits. ]
I just figured it was about time we got that drink, since it looks like the ship isn’t going to blow up around us for once. And so I can get to know you, properly, and you can get to know me.
[ He delivers that ever-so-slight emphasis on the word me. The nod to what they’re both aware of. ]
no subject
That emphasis isn't lost in her — she has to shove down the pang of grief that spikes through her. He isn't James, she knows that all too well, and it'll be better for the both of them if she finds more ways to keep them separate in her mind. ]
Well, we'd best get to it. The calm never seems to last long around here.
[ The joke doesn't quite land, the words coming out a bit more strained than she'd intended, but hopefully he'll take the encouragement for what it is. ]
no subject
It’s one of his strengths: that easy charm, the way he often befriends people by not working himself into knots about it. ]
Seriously. Seemed like I had to buy you a drink before we all dissolved into blobs of paint, or wound up phased halfway across the universe, or turned into dinosaurs, or [ meeting our evil twins, he almost says, but thankfully manages to swallow it at the last second, pivoting: ] being transformed into our childhood selves or something. The Farragut’s had its share of weird incidents, sure, but the Enterprise seems to take the cake.
Not that that’s a bad thing, [ James is quick to add, shooting a sideways glance at her. ] It’s admirable, actually. How this crew works the problem together.