“Sean, you ever spot this place before?” Amelia grabbed her taller friend by the elbow and turned on a dime to duck down the alleyway toward the unassuming door and the simple wooden sign. It was all he could do to keep up with her as she drug him.
“What place?” He extracted himself from her grip as she reached the door and grabbed the handle. Inside the place was dark, everything was made of wood, and a live band was in the far corner — a few people danced to the lively reel that was playing. It was all he could do to keep up with her as she made a beeline for the bar. “They ain’t gonna serve the likes of you here, this ain’t like those dance clubs you usually drag us to, they actually mind the local laws a place like this.”
“Or they won’t care because letting me drink keeps me off the streets and out of trouble.” Amelia perched on a stool and looked around. “Besides, it’ll be just a pint with some good pub grub or whatever, before we move onto a place that I’m better dressed to blend in. I know the Lighthouse certainly doesn’t mind, and this looks more of the same here. Though I gotta say, I am digging the music.” Her high heeled boot bounced in time on the foot bar of her stool, and she finally caught the eye of a bartender. Sean sighed deeply as he settled on the stool next to hers.
“What can I get ya?” The bartender looked from Amelia to Sean.
“A pint of whatever you recommend on tap, and a menu, please.” Amelia grinned wide as the bar tender looked her over. Her bright neon green cropped top under a black leather jacket, paired with a matching mini skirt and calf high boots, stood out like a sore thumb among the more conservatively dressed patrons that filled the rest of the bar.
“And how old are you?” A pair of menus were set in front of them, but no move was made to pour any beer.
Amelia smiled wide at him. “You see this forehead? I’ve been drinking blood wine since I was knee high to a grasshopper. A pint with a meal is nothing.”
The bar tender looked to Sean, and Sean quickly held his hands up as he shook his head. “Don’t look at me, I’ve long since given up trying to talk sense into her. The best I can hope is damage control as I follow in her wake. At least she hasn’t gotten me any reprimands yet.”
“She your girlfriend?”
“I’m his classmate at Starfleet Academy, and if you don’t want to serve us, we can leave.” Amelia leaned forward on the bar, and the bar tender looked at her a long moment.
“One pint. With your meal. I’ll give you a minute to look over the menu.” He shook his head as he walked away, and Amelia shoved one menu towards Sean as she picked up the other.
“Colcannon, Boxty, Irish Stew, Coddle… I think there’s a theme here.” Amelia elbowed Sean.
“Probably all replicated.”
“What is a Coddle anyway?”
“It’s what we’re ordering, and if their pattern is good, you’ll do your famous sweet talkin’ and get it for me.”
Amelia laughed. “Okay.”
Cillian was just sat in a booth with a couple of the locals he knew pretty well, he liked this place, the atmosphere was just like the local back home, he came here most times he wanted a chill evening with good company and more often than not, some music. His fingers were drumming along the side of his pint glass in time with the music, he glanced up at Cole, and grinned, then laughed. He shook his head. “Yeh’re unbelievable,” he told him. The bassist was good, and yes she had been giving him the eye when he came back from the bathroom, but he wasn’t going to assume anything, not until his silver tongue had a chance to work it’s magic.
He sighed as several glasses were pushed towards him, “Alright, alright I get it, I’ve got the youngest legs,” he rolled his eyes, drained his own pint and stood, collecting up all the glasses before heading through the light crowd to the bar.
“Two coddles, coming up,” The bartender collected the menus from Amelia and Sean, and spotted Cillian headed towards the bar. He nodded to the half-Denobulan to acknowledge he spotted him, then turned towards the replicator behind the bar.
Cillian set the glasses on the bartop, having nodded back at the bartender and leaned sideways on the bar, partly so that the bassist could get a look at his ass and partly because he didn’t want to seem too eager. He wasn’t a fanboy after all. He smiled at a couple of younger looking patrons a couple of bar stools over, and pretty soon found his fingers drumming on the wooden surface in time to the music again.
Amelia smiled back immediately when the stranger—half denobulan by the looks of him—offered the polite smile in greeting to her and Sean. Her eyes moved up and down him quickly, and Sean sat up straighter on his stool as he realized what was rolling through that head of hers.
“Oh no, Pond, let’s just eat and you can do your fishin’ at the club like normal,” Sean protested, laying a hand on her arm. She laughed as she shifted on her stool and held her hand out to the stranger.
Cillian, who hadn’t been expecting more than a smile in return, was surprised by the comment from the guy, and that the girl turned to face him and held her hand out. “Hey,” he replied and grasped her hand for a moment before pulling it back. She was clearly part Klingon, and were those trill spots?
“I’m Pond,” Amelia told him, making a point of crossing her long legs and leaning in just a little closer.
“Pond?” he queried, that was an interesting name, a nickname maybe? “Nice to meet you, I’m Cillian,” he said with a smile. She was obviously making an effort to keep his attention, and for now he was happy to give it. If only until the drinks for his table were poured.
“It’s a reference to an old earth show, you wouldn’t get it.” She grinned wide, and behind her, Sean was rolling his eyes and shaking head apologetically. “So, Sean and I were going to this club, down near Fisherman’s Wharf, after we finish our–” She looked over her shoulder at Sean. “What was it you made me order, cuddle?”
“After we finish our coddle and a pint. This place has the best sound system, utterly caroming DJs, even a noise room—hella good for making out—and the bars are heavy handed if you actually carry currency to tip with.”
“I’m not a club kinda guy normally, actually managed te ingratiate meself with the locals so, don’t wanna blow that without a good reason…” they would of course forgive him one night, and he had just collected this round so it wasn’t like he was in alcohol debt right now. There was nothing wrong with the hot redhead, but he preferred to have to actually make his silver tongue work a little, rather than have someone throw themselves at him like this. Because that was what this was, the comment about making out was definitely the thing that hinted the heaviest at that out of everything, on top of her friends earlier comment about fishing. Also, the insistence that he wouldn’t understand something just because it was an old earth show smarted of someone naïve enough to be convinced that only their parents had dived into the archives. His mother was a little obsessed with an old earth writer called Jane Austen, and liked to watch the show they made of it with some guy called Colin Firth in it. But he supposed that if she came up with a good reason he might be persuaded…
“Oh, well, we don’t have to go to the club.” Amelia pursed her lips. She wasn’t used to anyone other than fellow cadets not taking the rather blatant bait when she expressed interest.
“Weren’t we meeting Jane there in an hour?” Sean knew very well the answer to the question — they were, but she and Amelia had been starting to drift apart so it wouldn’t surprise him if Amelia was already calculating her excuses to call Jane with.
“So yeh’re telling me, that you want te sit an’ drink Guinness with a load o’ grumpy Irishmen, one o’ em with an accent so thick I can barely understand him, and watch as I make eyes at the gorgeous bassist and how good she is with her fingers…?” he teased, and maybe there was more than a hint of flirtatiousness about the way he did it. Honestly it was in his nature and he just couldn’t help himself. She was part Klingon, which meant she was likely younger than she looked, and with him being older than he looked by deference of his own genetics… Well. Then it clicked, if she was a cadet he didn’t know her name but he had heard about her, and what he’d heard would fit. Young, brash, and somewhat eccentric.
He leaned in with a smirk. “I’m older than I look… and yeh’re not as old as ye look. I call that a disaster waitin’ te happen,” he said with a smile before he turned back to the bar, where the double handful of pints was waiting for him. “Good luck at the club, try not te have a hangover fer class temorrow,” he said with a wink.
As he’d mentioned making eyes at the bassist, Amelia had glanced over — her eyes moved from head to toe of the woman, and she grinned liking what she saw. But the offer to share died on her lips as he brought up their respective ages, and a pout firmly took hold of her lips as he winked and made good his retreat with the pints he’d come to the bar for. Beside her, Sean laughed and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“That was a magnificent crash and burn, Pond,” he said as the bar tender set their meals and pints in front of them. Sean grinned and nodded his thanks as he leaned in to smell the coddle. “Reminds me of Ma’s.”