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Mess Hall Confidential

Posted on 21 Feb 2018 @ 11:16pm by Midshipman Second Class Elliot Cavett III & Petty Officer Third Class Rebecca Ó hÉalaighthe

Mission: Mission 2: Goodwill
Location: Crew Mess, C Deck
Timeline: SUN 3 AUG 2160, 13:15

"I think she thought I wasn't here of my own free will," Rebecca whispered through the food slot. On the other side, she could see Elliot's bright blue eyes. She was standing on a footstool, pushing fresh lunch items onto trays while there was a lull in meal service. "But then Commander Renna jumped in and explained that I was a steward and here for training. That's when I piped up and said that I wanted to be a chef, but I suppose cooks don't go through apprenticing or something similar in Paraaganese kitchens." She shook her head and continued to chatter as her tall, silent beau listened—maybe. "Well, they must... Otherwise, how would they learn? That would be an odd system..."

Elliot just nodded attentively, he was doing a good job of hiding the smirk and the chuckle that he was building and building as she told her tale of the events of first contact. He didn't want to interrupt her because he thought she was being rather adorable.

"Do y'think they might want to look around our kitchens? They're peeking around parts of the ship, but I don't know if they'll be back here." Rebecca slipped a slice of pie into a food slot, still rambling on her tangent about the delegation. "At least Chief Lamarque hasn't said anything about it. Have you met the ambassador? She's a fright!" A garden salad went into another slot, then a tuna sandwich into another. "And it seems like your father thinks she's a great pain in the you-know-what, but perhaps things won't be so bad once things are smoothed over and everyone's settled in."

"Sometimes it's not all that hard to annoy my father," he told her. "After all you gave him Pepsi and lived," he pointed out with a chuckle. "But I doubt that they're going to want to see the kitchen but who knows." He shrugged, knowing that he wasn't being particularly helpful to his secret girlfriend.

"And why wouldn't they?" she inquired, putting on a fake huff. "We have the finest kitchen in the fleet."

"Of course it is, you're here," he said, with a grin.

"You," Rebecca replied, slipping her hand through the food slot and booping Elliot on the nose, "are biased."

"That doesn't make me wrong, does it?" he asked, poking her in the side.

With a squeak, Rebecca flinched and lost her balance, falling off the stool. Although she landed on her feet, one of her hands landed in a blueberry pie.

Elliot did his best to try and catch her but it didn't really work out and when she put her hand in the pie he couldn't help but snicker a little despite his best attempts at covering it up. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I meant to do that," she quickly answered, grabbing a nearby dishtowel to wipe off her hand and any blueberry splatter. "What do they have you doing while the delegation is about?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "I was hoping to get to tag along but I was needed in Engineering. Hopefully, I'll be getting signed off as EOOW soon," he said, pronouncing it E-O-W.

Rebecca climbed back up on her footstool and peeked through the food slots at Elliot again. "Ask Commander Renna if you can participate. She'll probably let you."

"I'm okay with what I'm doing now," he said, with a shrug. "Besides I'm sure the exciting part is already done with."

"So?" She returned his shrug. "You can always say that you met with a member of a newly contacted species. How many midshipmen back home can claim that?"

"You have a point," he told her, with a nod. "That looks delicious what is that?" he asked, pointing through one of the windows at a meal she had been planning to store in the vendor.

With a broad grin, Rebecca said, "That's chicken makhani over basmati rice, with naan on the side. Try it! It's not too spicy."

“I shall,” he said, reaching his hand through an open slot so she could hand it to him.

She nudged the plate toward Elliot's waiting hand, but then grabbed his fingers and gave them a quick squeeze. They were warm, and the skin along the edges of each digit was roughened by his work in engineering. "See you later?" she asked hopefully.

"I hope so," he told her, squeezing her hand back.

A rush of warmth filled Rebecca so quickly that she wobbled on her footstool, but she managed to not tip over this time. The midshipman still made her feel flustered and giddy, even after a whole forty-eight days of "seeing" him. With a soft giggle, she replied, "Me, too."


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