Dinner On Kaitos, Pt. 1-Prelude to a Kiss

Posted on Sun Apr 28th, 2024 @ 2:20pm by Commander Lorut Vila

1,656 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Home Sweet Home
Location: Stratosphere Trattoria
Timeline: SL02, Nighttime

Vila was finally done with her duty rotas for the next few days; after this quick 48 hour shore leave/R&R, everyone needed to be back to work. She had also sent a nasty-gram to Gocx. He was in trouble, but she couldn't totally fault him. It had been her idea, after all.

She turned to the computer.

*Computer, take a message.*

Speak message

*Hey, Doc. I hope you're ok...anyway. If you're not busy...maybe you'd be interested in dinner? Consider it an apology for the morning. I found a cute little Italian place. Your uniform is fine, it's not a social call.*

She sighed.
*Computer, deliver message to Lieutenant Commander Dr. Frasier Greene.*

After it was sent, she buried her head In her hands for a minute. What was she DOING?

In his quarters the tablet pinging and vibrated on the coffee table beside Frasier demanding his attention. It went unanswered for a short spell while its owner gulped down a refreshing drink having shortly returned from the gym.

After his interesting morning spent with the XO becoming trapped in an unfamiliar location on the ship there wasn't enough time to enjoy the canoeing he'd hoped for, especially as he still had to wait for someone to relieve him. Frasier had opted for a lengthy cycle on the static bike instead that been linked with a holo emitter to display and mimic scenic destinations. It wasn't a match for the real thing but came close.

Setting aside the now empty glass he gathered up device and read his mail. His eyes widened with surprise and felt sure if he was still drinking he'd either choke or spit across the room.

Was she asking him on a date? No, surely she'd be more direct if that was the case, right? Either way Frasier decided immediately he wouldn't wear his crisp white uniform and stick out like or sore thumb, or worse still be mistaken for a waiter. Something smart casual would suffice, yet he'd air on the smarter side, just in case. Maybe a dash of cologne too he thought with increased excitement that felt ten fold coupled with the endorphins from his cycling.

Finally having finished her paperwork, Vila stood up and stretched. She looked around the office. There was nothing else to do to distract her, so she made her way to her quarters. She may as well get ready for this dinner thing. She hopped quickly into the refresher, and emerged a bit later, shampooed, clean, and fresh. She felt better than this morning. She paused at the mirror-she looked tired-another reason to quit drinking. She didn't want to lose her looks. It wasn't all she had, of course, but it was a big part of it.

She decided to go casual but nice tonight-it wasn't a date. At least that's what she was telling herself. And she wasn't going to drink much...maybe nothing at all except water and various nonalcoholic concoctions. She pulled on a black skirt, matching black tights, and a pink sweater. She put the top and front of her hair back, and let the rest fall around her shoulders in waves. A tiny bit of makeup-just some mascara, and blue shadow in the ridges of her nose-and she was ready. One thing she DID do was step into her signature too-high heels, and then prepped herself for the night. She would be ok. She was with a doctor, for Prophets sake. It wasn't a date, and there was no reason to be nervous....so why was she? She made her way to the Turbolift, and then to the Transport pad. If she ran into Fraiser on the way, great. If not, she'd meet him there. Hopefully he was as smart as he claimed, and had looked it up, too.

Dressed in skinny black jeans, white long sleeved shirt with flecks of red, causally unbuttoned a little and with a jacket in hand to ward off the evening temperatures Frasier Greene stepped inside the restaurant feeling oddly nervous.

Looking around both at the seated tables and the small bar he noted he was the first to arrive, clearly the nerves were affecting his punctuation as Frasier was notoriously poor at time keeping normally.

A woman matching Vila hadn't arrived yet the Maître d' confirmed, showing him to their pre-arranged table. Wisely he declined the offer of a drink while he waited, save for a jug of icy water. After last night heavy hits he wasn't looking to recreate it any time soon

Vila arrived shortly after Frasier had, but had stood a little away, collecting her thoughts. She was fully sober today, but didn't know how to proceed without the lubrication. Something she'd ask Dr Campbell about, perhaps. She still didn't know what had overcame her this morning to invite him out, but she suspected it wasn't just a simple respect for his position or something. Oh, well, she better move.

She entered the Trattoria, and looked around. A waiter showed her to their table and she smiled. "Greene. You look nice," she said, taking a seat. "Do you perhaps have some kind of non-alcoholic wine?" She asked the maitre de. He indicated they did, and left the two alone. She looked to Frasier. "Thanks for agreeing to see me," she said. "I know it was out of the blue, and I don't know what possessed me, but...I guess I just didn't want to be alone and the other girls were going out again....and I AM trying," she said. The normally cool-headed Bajoran was babbling.

"Thanks," he smoothed down his shirt at her compliment "You look nice too, it's always nice to leave the uniform behind every now and again. After the leave I suspect it will be awhile till we have another chance to do this." He paused before continuing: "After last night, I'd rather die than have another night like that again," Frasier smirked. "I felt distinctly old, this quaint little place, fancy menu and adult conversation is far more appealing."

Vila laughed. "Well, I think I am a little older than you, but yes, it takes a toll after a while. I spoke briefly to Dr. Gocx, he's ok, but I think our Klingon friend also feels the same. We can't drink like we did in our youth," she said. For Vila, it had been a bit of a coping mechanism-she had been desperate for something to dull the pain and memories. She didn't remember when it had gotten out of hand. "And yes, I am looking forward to discussing something other than work with someone other than Culver," she said. Their wine appeared then. "Thank you," she said, to the waiter, and then picked up the PADD that served as the menu. It was a quaint, old-Earth type of place, with fake scenes of Tuscany painted on the walls, and candles dripping in wine bottles. "It's a bit fancier than I thought. My apologies. I couldn't face any more fried foods, though," she said. Or replicated Hesperat, for that matter. "Oh, they have a Spaghetti All'assassina," she said. She loved spicy things AND pasta.

"I do have a question about this place though," Frasier glanced around the restaurant. "If Kaitos is classified how did they manage to replicate an authentic looking spot like this?"

Vila blinked. "I don't know exactly, but I'd assume that, because their people are so ancient and live so long, that someone had remembered and made blueprints of something similar from Earth," she said. "We don't have similar on Bajor, so I'd assume that's what is happening," she said, "But that might be a question for Culver," she said, with a shrug. "At any rate....I am glad it's here. I think it's only classified to certain people...the Federation knows about it. My people have been trading and interacting with the El Aurians for centuries," she said. The waiter appeared. "Are you ready, Fraiser?"

The Doctor gave her answer a knowledge nod, defiantly something to ask Culver about one day he mused looking over the menu. At her question he looked up sharply having not heard the waiter arrive: "Erm, yeah I think so," he gave the menu one last quick glance before addressing the staff member: "The Fettuccine al Pomodoro please," he said.

Vila nodded. "The Spaghetti All'assassina, please," she said. "Do you do a sourdough bread of any kind?" She asked. When they confirmed that they did not, she looked a little sad. "That's fine, whatever the house bread is," she said. When they were done, and the waiter left, she turned back to her companion. "I love bread," she said. "I am sad they don't do a sourdough-I had it a few times at the Academy, and when my ex-husband would take me home to Sol...I always enjoyed it," she said. Hot, bubbly, soft sourdough bread with fresh butter was nearly as good as sex, in her opinion, and a hell of a lot less messy.
"So...how are things?" She didn't have much to talk about, not knowing him well, and she'd failed to make a list of "safe" topics in her head earlier.
"I love bread too," Frasier replied with a gentle moan. "The fresher the better and with lashing of garlic butter if possible. Takes practice and patience to make a great loaf, neither of which I have." He smirked taking a sip of the water.

"Things are good," the Doctor nodded. He too hadn't given much thought to what the two of them would discuss before he accepted her invitation. "Have you explored much on leave? The city of A’ransari has some truly unique architecture with hanging skyscrapers and ultra modern setting, yet still in the heart of that bustle are some ancient hidden gems and idols."

TBC...

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