A Vulcan walks out of a bar. [Personal Log, Stardate 40889.51]

Posted on 28 Jul 2020 @ 2:47am by Lieutenant T'Char Le'el
Edited on 28 Aug 2020 @ 5:52am

The door slides open, and a Vulcan stumbles in, using the wall as a support. She’s wearing a scant uniform, now ruffled unceremoniously and parted with wrinkles. Her hand slaps at a panel on the wall to bring up the light, which she misses twice. On her third attempt she breaks the casing with a fist and causes a flurry of sparks to drift to the ground among the shattered dermal plastic. T’Char turns to look at the damage, scanning it intently. After a moment she waves her hand with a short exhale and turns away, feeling gently in the dark for the panel on the opposite end of the door frame to slide the entrance shut.

After a resounding success in closing the door, she strides confidently to her desk, barely managing to walk upright. The Vulcan presses the console on her desk to activate the lamp, vaguely illuminating the room, and initiating the record program.

“It’s, hello. Uhm.” T’Char giggles softly as her mind drifts, attempting to sit on the chair in front of the display. She lands in the correct place, but it’s more like a lucky fall.

“It’s the uhm. bath’pa, Stardate I think is 40889…point uhm, 9?”

The Vulcan ignores the time index on the console and leans all the way back in her chair, swinging her arms over her head to support her neck. Her legs bounce absentmindedly.

“I’ve just arrived from the bar! I was celebrating the promotion of my good friend the Andorian!”

She beams at the ceiling, and then frowns just as quickly. “Well no. That’s not true.”

The chair swings violently back into place as the Vulcan jolts upright, leaning forwards on her desk. Her face is screwed up in various traveling emotions as she explains her point.

“Nono! It is, it’s true that he’s indeed my good, very good friend, but I wasn’t actually just at the bar I was in the sickbay because- well basically I won a drinking contest long story short.”

A hand swings up to gesture, swinging at her wrist to emphasize the story as her brow travels up and down. She offers a smug, shit-eating grin as she speaks.
“What I mean is like. You know Vulcans like myself are very good at not being affected by things, like poison and alcohol and emotions, and the surly bartender!”

Her face becomes agitated as she mentions Taka.
“Who was sOOOooo confident that I couldn’t handle her Orion Whiskey, that guvik tekerik."

The Vulcan attempts to stand, and fails. She settles for simply scooting the chair closer to the desk and sitting up so she can gesticulate with both arms.
“And she and Kyr, who is my Andorian, are always…”

She scrunches her nose, flapping her hands at the camera enthusiastically.

“There’s no word for it in Vulcan! They, they. My Andorian aitlu tor katelau the Orion! He dreams of Cyan! Bah!”

She spins her chair back and forth, angrily pushing on the desk for momentum.
“For once she wore some real clothes, which I’m sure was only because it was a formal event. Every time I see her it’s the same tinfoil bra which is, uh shitty as a Human might say. And the bath’pa miniskirt made of paper and good fortune. Traditional Orion my coi’a. Au nam-tor wuh mesh, wuh taul katelau Orion!”

She stops the spin to tumble out of the chair and to her feet, leaning on the desk with one hand as she uses the other to wiggle herself out of the tall-heeled boots she wore all afternoon. The Vulcan manages to get the left one off, and it’s promptly tossed over her shoulder as she sits back into the chair to address the camera, forgetting about the other foot.

“But I won the contest! I drank the purple thing and showed Kyr that I can take the alcohol better than an Orion! Vulcans are very reslie- resilly- We’re tough! And then I don’t remember much after I had the purple thing.”

Her face grows softer as her body starts to catch up to the Vulcan. The enzyme in her bloodstream Seldi Zax was kind enough to administer in sickbay finally begins to absorb the heavier alcohol compounds in her bloodstream.
But the lapse in energy only lasts a brief moment. T’Char grins sheepishly at the camera, leaning in closer.

“But you know what I did today? I shook Kyr’s hand! I actually did!”

She cackles, putting a hand to her mouth instinctively. Her face is almost opalescent green, and her ears are the same color as the large, leafy plant next to the bed.

“You know, I started it too. Ohh it was just a polite gesture at first, and I had to work myself up to it-but he! He was so gentle!” The Vulcan exhales, giggling uncontrollably. She crosses her arms and puts them on the desk as she leans forwards, resting her chin on her forearms.

“He walked with me to the sickbay, I think. Zax was there too?” T’Char has to pause to think for a moment, her eyes narrowing in her effort to recall events that have started to fade.

“I think I said..au tor petakov. I hope not. It’d be so embarrassing if I said anything too reveal-”

"nash-veh spo' du! nash-veh spo' du Kyr."
She frowns, trying to put her thoughts into order. Her memory is wavey, and malleable. It’s not a feeling she’s accustomed to. No matter where she sits the room feels like it’s tilting slightly, so it’s hard to stay focused. The inertial dampeners must be acting up.

“du nam-tor maut petakov Kyr.”

She rests her head on the desk, telling herself it’s just for a few seconds to rest her eyes, the light does hurt after all. Maybe it’ll help with the sudden bout of nausea too.

"Kal'i'farr nash-veh Kyr?"

“Rai, t'nash-veh ko-mekh dungi stau nash-veh..."

The Andorian has her hand in his while she’s laying on a biobed, he’s gently rubbing her arm to comfort her. "You're in sickbay aboard the Boston T'Char, and we are here to help you..."
She smiles kindly at the Andorian, squeezing his hand gently. She doesn’t wish to worry him, she feels fine. A very sweet gesture though. "Du nam-tor wuh ves sasu, kal'i'farr nash-veh Kyr."
It’s only polite.

The blue of his face gets a little bluer, and his antennae do a small dance, rubbing together after jumping upright to their full length. It’s quite endearing. She’s not sure why. She’s also seeing two of him, fading in and out of each other. It’s a bit like the light is causing a sensor reflection. It’s way too bright in here anyways.
He’s speaking to her! What a nice voice. "Just relax T'Char, we will get you back to normal as soon as possible."
Such a gentle soul. He holds her hand so delicately, like he’s afraid of hurting her. He must know what he’s doing. T’Char decides to tease him about it."Du ma veshtaya k' Vuhlkansu kosu!"
His mood doesn’t seem to improve. She doesn’t want him to be concerned though, so she reaches out and pats his cheek."Ri tor ma rasahkos t'nash-veh ashaya."

It doesn’t seem to affect him very much, just makes his antenna droop and twitch periodically. He says something quiet she can’t hear before he speaks to her again, saying”Du dungi nam-tor tok-ti" in a worried tone.

T’Char’s eyes snap open and she almost falls out of her chair. The time index on her desk states she’s been asleep for almost exactly five minutes. Odd.
She notices the personal log is recording, but she can’t quite remember how or why. Her mouth tastes sour, and dry.

“Oh, uhm. Hello! Hi, uh, I think I hit this by accident, uhm. Stardate 40889.54. This is a personal log. I came back from celebrating with my friends! My Andorian was promoted today, I’m very happy for him! I think his antennae are quite cute. I had alcohol for the first time!”

She grins at the screen lifting herself up with some effort.

“I didn’t even get drunk! I feel great right now, I think I get why people drink it all the time. Make a note for the engineers that this room has bad grav plating, and it’s way too hot! I’m sweating like an unshaven Sha’amii. And, T’Char, when you watch this later-”

The Vulcan puts up a middle finger after struggling with it for a moment.

“Live a little and Proper! HaHa!! Oh, and-and tell H’esti you love her! She knows but you guys hafta like. Be there for each other! Okay I’m done, uh- how do the Humans- Good and Buy!”

A hand comes over the desk to sloppily poke at the console a few times to deactivate the personal log. T’Char stumbles over to her bed, tossing aside the one shoe that landed there earlier, and lets herself fall face first into her mound of pillows. Formal Skant uniform, single boot, and all.

She falls asleep so fast that she doesn’t even snore.