“Large redleaf tea, please,” Hilea asked the server. Kriana, the ship’s bartender nodded and returned to the bar to prepare Hilea’s tea. 

It took her a few minutes to get her records transferred into the computer. Nearly instantly, she had a response as to her assigned quarters. She signed off on the response, setting down her padd. For the first time Hilea took a look around the room and was instantly unimpressed. Understandably since the dust of the refit hadn’t completely settled. Which was the next time on her list, getting signed on and up to speed on the complete state of the ship. The server returned with her hot tea, just as Hilea set down her padd. “Who do I talk to about the decor of the lounge, or is there a theme already set?” OOC: Love the lounge.  Of course there should be a very small one near Engineering and the Enlisted quarters. Call that one Stovokor. 

Kriana bent down and carefully placed the tray on the table in front of Hilea. There was an infuser filled with Tea leaves in the large mug, a small pot of sugar with a spoon and a separate receptacle for the infuser once the Tea had reached the desired strength. The gently steaming water clouded with colour. Not expecting the question she looked at Hilea a moment before responding as she straightened back up.

“Valhalla? Oh they won’t change it,” she said firmly. “Part of the ship’s tradition. Hang on…” She quickly crossed the room to the bar and leant over it to deposit her tray and swipe a padd, one of her stilleto’d boots momentarily cocked behind her for balance as she did so. “Right…” she exclaimed as she arrived back at the table and stood, very proudly but very naturally, hips forward so that the artistic rips in her black jeans showed an inch or two of thigh skin. With one hand on her waist, the other thumbing through text on the padd, she read aloud.

“In Norse mythology, a Valkyrie is one of a host of female figures who guide souls of the dead to the god Odin’s hall Valhalla.” She gestured to the room as she said the name Valhalla. “There, the deceased warriors become ein… ein…her…jar. When the einherjar are not preparing for the events of Ragnarök, the valkyries bear them mead. Huh… fitting.” With this last comment she indicated herself, as bartender. “Valhalla operates under the assumption that if a senior officer is present, then they are free to be engaged with any member of the crew. It is also a firm rule of Valhalla that the only person aboard a ship who is allowed to declare themselves ‘the strongest crewmember’…” her hand was removed from her hip a moment to do quote marks “…must be the strongest crewmember, as measured by an arm wrestling competition between every worthy opponent. Violators of this rule are refused all service by the wait staff until they have made amends – two mugs of Pale Lager Beer.”

She looked up from the padd. “Sounds annoyingly Klingon if you ask me…

”Hilea offered, “An interesting concept.  It parallels the belief that how you treat the universe is correlated to how it treats you. I wonder what plants would be appropriate in such a setting?” It was at once a serious and yet humorous question as Hilea actually chuckled as she said it. Kriana looked at her blankly.

“Norse ones…?” She offered with a shrug. Kriana had an idea that she didn’t really understand what the amber-eyed customer was driving at.

“I apologize. My mind is slightly rambling. Hilea t’Rehu, the new operations officer. My plants are in stasis and perhaps Valhalla could be less…bleak.”

“Oh! Yeah, for sure. Kriana Popples.” Kriana gave Hilea a winning smile. She liked it when customers took the time to properly introduce themselves, it felt like mutual respect, even if being a bartender was nowhere near as vocationally important as what the Starfleet Officers did. “My wife Fearne is in Security,” she added, subconciously trying to justify her presence on the ship.

Hilea nodded as the information. “Pleased to meet you. You are actually the first non-required personnel I have talked to aboard the ship. Kriana looked less than amused at this description.

“We prefer the term ‘non-essential’,” she said, folding her arms, the padd still in her grip resting against her side. “Less rude,” she assured Hilea in a stage whisper. “Although I suppose it amounts to the same thing.”

“On a Federation ship, you are essential to morale. So not entirely accurate, but I see your point. You mentioned your wife, so then you are essential to maintain the family unit.” Hilea replied. 

“Still the first to be evacuated when things go sour,” Kriana pointed out.

“That would be a welcome change to how things usually go for me. I usually get evacuated into the danger zone.” Hilea offered. Kriana perked an eyebrow sympathetically.

“Perhaps I should bring you something stronger, then?” She half-joked. Hilea replied. “I am more impressed by the taste of something. Considering my multi-vulcanic heritage, I am curious as to what the offering will be.”

Multi-vulcanic. It sounded like Vulcan to Kriana, and so did t’Rehu, but Hilea had smiled, so this left the bartender thoroughly confused. Kriana filed it away in her mind in a big folder of ‘things I don’t understand and probably shouldn’t ask about’.

“Well there is a mixed-heritage cocktail I uhhh… concocted?” She explained. “Speciality of mine. Some sweet, some sour, some spice. Interested?” 

“If it is less than acceptable. I shall inform you.” Hilea smiled again, this time, with a slightly sly grin. “However, the mixed-heritage cocktail is an interesting concept. That is an accurate assessment as any for a Vulcan/Romulan half-breed as well. “ Hilea added, indicating her own heritage. ”a large glass of orange juice, please along with the cocktail.”

Kriana nodded and returned bar with a slightly mischievous look on her face. A few minutes behind the bar of secretive grafting yielded a tray of drinks, which she transported expertly to the waiting Hilea. Kriana placed two glasses in front of her. “One glass of Orange Juice, and one… quvHa’. Enjoy!” Kriana perched on a nearby arm-rest to await Hilea’s reaction to the drink. Served in a conical glass with a dainty stem, it was a deep blush-oblush-orange-coloured liquid. A menacing thread of blood-red swirled about the ice cubes. Attached to the rim was a slice of an orange-like fruit carved into the silhouette of a bat’leth. Hilea smelled the drink tentatively. She took a decent sip, almost wishing she hadn’t as the sour settled in. Soon that mellowed to semi-sweet but spiced wine, much like an alcoholic version of Vulcan spice tea. It finished with a hint of earthly lingering taste. Taking a second larger sip, it solidified her impression. “Quite impressive. Put in on my rotation.” Hilea offered.

“Add one to the house of the dishonored,” Kriana commented with a malevolent smile. “Can I get you anything else today?” 

“No, Kriana, thank you. It’s been weeks in a runabout, now in-processing. Something more active is likely to be next.”

Kriana didn’t like to insert herself into people’s business, but as Hilea was volunteering information and -looking around- all the other patrons seemed to be drinked-up and happy for now, she decided to help this new officer feel more at home. Not that she herself had been on the ship long, but bartenders gave an impression of establishment.

“Don’t want to be too cloudy-headed for meeting people huh?” She ventured. “Oh wait,” she chuckled, “alcohol won’t affect you. You prefer things active? Anything’s better than transport ships for days or weeks on end. So dull.”

“What I need is to keep the edge sharp while destressing. Where is a good Klingon bar when you need one?”” Hilea asked rhetorically. Kriana snorted.

“That’s an oxymoron if you ask me,” she observed, holding the padd to her belly idly with both hands. “Klingon culture is always easier to stomach when you can walk out the door and leave it behind.” “While that is true, it’s nice when  you are the last drunken person still standing after the fight.” A rare twinkle appeared in Hilea’s eye, her own mischievous smirk. Her Rihannsu heritage coming to the forefront.