Coffee... the 'other' breakfast
[0800 hours - Brew Coffee Shop]
The revelries had gone on in the bar late into the night, and Raan was sure more than a few of their group would have sore heads today. He'd made it back to his room late... managing not to wake his room-mate, who at that point had been little more than a mound of blankets on the other bunk, and gotten some shut-eye.
He still hadn't seen the guy this morning. A natural early riser, he was up and out of his room at the crack of dawn... on some planet somewhere. His body clock was completely out of whack. He'd found a gym and worked out but by the time he'd returned, his room-mate had already gone. Ships in the night and all that.
Now though, he was showered, in uniform and ready for his day. After coffee. Copious amounts of it. Preferably black and strong enough to fight you for the spoon. Tracking down the nearest coffee shop, he smiled as he spotted a familiar face at one of the tables.
"Rourke?" he smiled as the other man looked up. "Looks like decent coffee here... Mind if I join you?"
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Rourke seemed like he was trying to drown himself in coffee, his mug huge and steaming, a selection of treacherously sweet breakfast pastries before him. This was an indulgence he didn't usually permit himself; his was a broad build he knew went soft around the middle if his discipline wavered. But if there was ever a time to indulge it was on a break like this, especially if he was getting this much Beckett in his diet. The man had not become less insufferable over the years.
So he was bleary-eyed when he looked up, tired, but his smile wasn't insincere. 'Oh, Mason. Morning.' He pushed the other chair out with his foot. 'Sit down, I probably shouldn't eat all of these pastries myself. Sleep alright, or did you get a snoring roommate?"
Raan dropped into the offered seat with nonchalant grace, his slouch a hair off 'sprawl'.
"Slept like a log," he announced, signaling to the waiter. "Didn't hear a peep from my roommate, but I can sleep on a piece of string. Planetary military before the fleet," he added by way of explanation.
He ordered a bucket of black coffee when the waiter arrived and more pastries. They were going to need it if they had to face an entire day of briefings and meetings. Already he could feel the notifications from his padd in his thigh pocket, each tiny vibration another 'suggestion' for his schedule.
"How about you?" he asked, noting Rourke's tired appearance. "Quiet roommate or did you get a snoring champion?"
CeCe had barely slept. She always had trouble sleeping in a new place. Despite forcing herself to stay in the night previous so she could get as much sleep as possible.
Without sleep, the next best thing was coffee. She finally pulled herself out of bed at 0700 Hours. She showered a dressed with a militaristic proficiency and pulled her blonde hair into a tight bun before heading out of her assigned cabin in search of her caffeine oasis.
After a short walk she found her haven. It seemed that her colleagues had already begun to assemble there. Captain Rhodes ordered a French Roast coffee and a croissant and scanned the cafe for anyone familiar.
Seeing no one she knew particularly well, she approached a table where two men were already seated. “Is this seat taken?” She asked.
Commodore Camilla Dougherty
Task Force Executive Officer, 86
Commodore Catherine Waldorf
Commanding Officer, USS Hypatia
Ashex Oo
Head of The Family, Stardust City
A refreshed Juliet, having finished her run, showered, dressed in her uniform, blue hair brushed back neatly but not tightly, found herself in Brew as well. Running was the best way to wake up, but she needed help from Sweet Lady Coffee to keep the momentum going.
She spotted three people whom she knew by reputation and file. Celia Rhodes. Matthew Rourke. Raan Mason.
She was given a coffee sweetened with French vanilla and creme, smiled as she took the first sip, and approached the other three. "Good morning," she said politely.
Commodore Juliet St. Clair
Executive Officer, Task Force 93 | Commanding Officer, USS Saturn
Raan looked up, his smile automatic, to find a neatly dressed captain standing by their table, hands filled with coffee and a croissant on a plate. His sprawl turned into movement as he levered himself up out of his chair.
"Not at all. Please, allow me." He pulled one of the free chairs out for her. From his appearance, most people assumed he was a thuggish marine-type, an assumption he helped cultivate... but occasionally he slipped and fell into the mannerisms of his earlier life.
His hands were still curled around the back of the seat when another officer approached them, this time a blue-haired commodore. This one Raan did recognize, he'd passed her running in the corridors earlier as he'd been on his way to the gym.
"Good morning, ma'am." He smiled and nodded toward the remaining chair, an unspoken question in his eyes.
CeCe sat in the pulled chair, blushing slightly at the gentlemanly gesture. She sipped her coffee and gave a curt nod to the Commodore as she approached. “Good morning Ma’am.” She said with a smile.
After eating a small bite of her croissant. The Captain asked, “So where is everyone stationed?”
Commodore Camilla Dougherty
Task Force Executive Officer, 86
Commodore Catherine Waldorf
Commanding Officer, USS Hypatia
Ashex Oo
Head of The Family, Stardust City
Rourke had a long gulp of coffee, and winced. 'That's still hot,' he croaked. 'And, morning, Captain, Commodore. Commander Rourke, USS Endeavour, stationed out near the Klingon border - but we've been pirate hunting lately, and I've not been there long. So tomorrow should be pretty illuminating on that front.'
Juliet sat in the remaining chair toward which Raan had gestured, sipping her coffee again as she did so. "Thank you." She raised her cup in a toast to the three gathered officers.
"I'm about to head to the Klingon border myself, Mr. Rourke," she said. "Once my ship is ready. Apparently it's been sitting idle at Qualor for so long that they can't get the Saturn running just right." She liked working at the Devron Fleet Yards well enough, but that was Admiral Thrace's domain, and she longed for a space to call her own. USS Saturn was that space.
Commodore Juliet St. Clair
Executive Officer, Task Force 93 | Commanding Officer, USS Saturn
He had been going to pull the chair out for the commodore, but she beat him to it, so Raan returned to his seat. He made sure not to sprawl so much this time, reaching for his coffee and blowing across the top so he didn't make the same mistake as Rourke. Burnt lip was so not a good look when he'd have to talk for the next few days.
"No idea at the moment," he replied to the captain's question with a small shrug. "Still waiting on assignment details. Hopefully soon."
'Saturn.' Rourke frowned. 'She's an old Ambassador, right? She's being temperamental with the refit?' He took another croissant, then pushed out his plate of piled pastries. 'Again, please help yourselves, everyone. I wasn't really awake when I ordered and I really shouldn't eat the lot.'
"That's right," Juliet answered. "She's actually been in mothballs for the better part of a decade. But my future First Officer and Chief Engineer are both already on board, hopefully solving more problems than they make." She picked up what looked like a pain au chocolat from the pretty presented pastry plate.
She turned to Mason. "Do you at least know where in the Galaxy they'll be sending you? Which Task Force?"
Commodore Juliet St. Clair
Executive Officer, Task Force 93 | Commanding Officer, USS Saturn
Raan shook his head, a little distracted by the commodore's hair. It was such a lovely shade of blue.
"At the moment, no. Although, to be honest, I did state I have no preference." He winced. "On reflection, that may have been a mistake. I'm half expecting to get an old Centaur or something and dispatched somewhere quiet running supplies around."
He smiled as he took a sip of his coffee, to take any sting out of his words. As long as they didn't stick him on diplomatic duties somewhere, he'd be fine.
"White Chocolate Mocha for Robert!" The barista placed the piping hot coffee down on the shelf as Bob pawed through a PADD. He was making himself aware of the latest information both from the quadrant and at the conference. Seems like registration was reaching upwards of 90% - folks had done their job getting the rank and file to show up in droves. He approached the coffee station and with a flick of his hand, deposited some credits virtually into the holographic tip jar perched up on the pastry display. "Thanks!" He yelled out before grabbing the cup and moving over to a small table to take a seat.
Quite the sight, Bob filled up the space quite well. He was used to getting in the way due to his large frame - something he had no choice but to come to grips with. He took a sip from the coffee, letting the aromas tickle his nose. Delicious he thought. Placing the cup down, he continued to page through the daily reports as he awaited the next activity.
VAdm. Robert Dowd, Director of 4th Fleet Communications
Rear Admiral Robert Dowd, Bravo Fleet Communications Officer
Captain Richard Sterling, Commanding Officer - USS Armstrong
Captain Charles Scotto, Commanding Officer - USS Devastator, TF93
With a wide yawn and a rubbing of her eyes, the lazily dressed Commander Chandra crept into the coffee shop. Her uniform was rather lazily thrown on and she appeared none-the-better for the revelry the previous evening. A single drink of ale had become a table's worth of empty glasses and the woman was quite groggy for the experience the next morning.
Pulling herself into the establishment, she noticed the familiar faces of her colleagues and drinking buddies from the night before. Offering them a simple nod, she headed towards their large, collective table.
Noticing there was no real room left for any more chairs though, she decided instead to simply offer the group a kind wave and a nod before heading to the front to order.
Greeted by the four-armed waiter, she made her order.
"Uh, over-medium eggs, bacon, ham, and toast, please. Oh, and coffee, strong." She murmured.
Chandra was not much of a drinker, in truth, but this was an unusual social occasion and one that'd unlikely happen again any time soon, and so she decided to enjoy the opportunity to cut loose a little, at least for the few days that she was not responsible for anyone else but herself.
Sitting herself down alone at the table next to the collective group, she pulled out her PADD and started to read the itinerary and details of the events unfolding in the next few days, as well as a list of potential new vessels launching as part of the initiative that were in need of a Captain.