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S-PLOT JL | Rochelle Ivanova (MU), Lt Michael Hawk | "Baiser de la Vie"

Posted on 241712.29 @ 19:03 by Rochelle Ivanova & Lieutenant Michael Hawk

Mission: Ebbtide

Out of the stuffiness of a duty uniform, Rochelle had been free to explore a whole host of attire that had a high chance of finding itself in the prim and proper Commodore's wardrobe. A pencil skirt and sleeveless turtleneck stole the show, both of them the color of a fine red wine and speaking volumes that they were meant for occasions other than the business of running a star ship. Still a power color, the garments clung to the finer points of her assets while revealing nothing. Elegance. Sheer, refined, perfect elegance. She could get used to it as a change from her usual more combatant type attire. Prime Universe Rochelle Ivanova was the very definition of a Bon Vivant, and it suited her more than her doppelganger cared to admit.

In fact, it served a purpose. A very big, very perfect purpose.

While Prime Rochelle was off canoodling with the Command team of Cold Station Theta, territory would be conquered on a whole different front.

"This seat taken?" Rochelle chirped as a slender arm extended from over the Lieutenant's left shoulder, resting a single well manicured finger tip against the bar top nearest an empty seat. From all of her intel, she was certain he'd be a worthy acquisition. No one would suspect he'd be tugged into anyone's net and he didn't know the Commodore well enough to ascertain behavior patterns that would make such an encounter so very out of character for the elusive, introverted, ethereal creature that she was. That said, the obscure Navigator was key to her success when it came to finding someone of her own in the inside - and who better than an Admiral's son? The smoky little lounge with its dim, swanky lighting, was a perfect lily pad by which to launch her little operation - a choice made wisely if the off duty Lieutenant's half finished drink was any indication.

Michael started as he was addressed, and even more when he realized who had addressed him. "Commodore? I..?" he blurted while he was trying to make sense why his CO would frequent a place like this. He'd chosen it exactly to get away from everybody. Apparently, that didn't go too well. So now he was here, finishing his third cognac, with the CO asking him if the seat next to him was taken. He wasn't sure he could handle any more square pipped people today. "Go ahead," he shrugged defeated. It wasn't like he could deny her the seat anyway.

Leaping up to claim the bar stool was a motion that was almost feline in nature. If the feline was a bi-pedal five-foot-four-inch tall human woman with the propensity to smile and cross her legs after the little hop. In short, it wasn't a rough motion - it was fluid and practiced and not the awful fumbling of a virgin bar fly Even the rose gold and garnet jeweled bows at her ear lobes only swayed once or twice - and more so to follow the motion of her head as she dipped it in search of a bar tender, "I'll have whatever he's having, thanks a million." Rochelle practically purred and with the flash of a smile the bar keep, a young male Bajoran, was off to obtain the lady's cognac.

She could tell the poor boy was confused, flummoxed really, at the sudden apparition of his 'boss' in a seedy little corner bar on a station that was notorious for assassination attempts, kidnappings, cartel wars, and more. Little did he know that she was running the greatest heist of all; knowledge. His knowledge. "Why so blue?" The redhead asked with a cant of her head to the right and a soft, subtle little pout as her drink appeared and she gathered the glass in one of her hands.

What the hell was going on? Michael's jaw nearly dropped at the way Rochelle took her seat. Granted, they hadn't been on 'normal' assignment together for very long, but this still seemed to be out of character. Even just being here, was very unusual. Then again, he looked down at his glass of cognac and figured he could just as well contribute it to the liquid swirling inside. It hadn't been the best of nights, and his thoughts kept trailing back to the conversation he'd just had. Or non-conversation. Perhaps he should've given her more of a chance to explain herself? Or no, perhaps not. He realized that he'd been asked a question, and hadn't answered yet. How honest could he be towards his CO? After three cognacs? "I just had a talk with my mother. It.. didn't go well."

"That's too bad." The woman's face genuinely softened, "I'm sorry to hear that. Bad on her side? Bad on yours? Or just... Bad?" The amber libation in her glass met her lips and mouth and throat with a succulent slow warming sensation that left her nearly in shivers. It wasn't synth. It wasn't shit quality. It was the real deal and the best of the real deal - the boy had fantastic taste no doubt garnered from years of living with a woman who knew what she wanted and passed that nearly carnal knowledge down to her son. Such fantastic knowledge it was.

Bad on whose side? It was a fair question. Michael had to admit that it was a fair question. Dare he answer it truthfully though? Without cognac? Definitely not. Right now? Perhaps. "I guess I didn't give her a fair chance," he started. Accurate assessment. True statement. "Then again, she didn't really make much of an effort to make me listen to her explanation." Partially true statement? Or just awkwardness born from not really knowing each other after all those years? He probably could have tried harder. Or at all.

"Easy to do given there's like... What... Decades between you two that are unaccounted for?" How Rochelle became the relationship coach that she was settling in to be, was beyond her. It wasn't that she minded, the human element of relationships and strife weren't exactly foreign to her and she knew bits and pieces of the story - with thanks to Tal'Shiar information - which made her speech and decisions fluid and easy... As fluid and easy as the drink she was savoring. "I mean with everything going on there's no wonder that it wasn't the tender Hollywood style reunion everyone expects. It's a big step, you're two very different people." She shrugged, taking another sip and considered the boy. He wasn't really a boy, she decided, he was a man with his own demons and each one needed to be taken into consideration as she worked with him and edged towards her goal. "That said... It's worth learning her now. She is your mother, after all."

Michael had no idea where this side of Rochelle was coming from, but he liked it. She wasn't the bad ass woman he'd come to know. There was a soft side at the surface now. He liked it. It must have been the stress of the mission that her be such a pain in the ass. Being back in the present, docked at a Starbase, it had probably relieved a lot of the stress that had been killing her. That didn't mean he want to spend an entire evening talking about his mother though. Gesturing to the waiter, he made sure two new cognacs were quickly set down in front of them. "May I ask what you're doing here, in this part of the station?" he asked, steering the conversation deftly away from himself.

Setting her empty glass down and walking her fingers along the rim of the second, Rochelle grinned at him from beneath a veil of kohl tinted lashes, "The same thing you are," Rochelle hummed in response, allowing him to bird walk away from the questions and focus. Not everyone enjoyed being in the spot light. "After a mission like this one I needed to unwind. Wasn't expecting to see a familiar face, but I can't say that I'm sorry I did." Bait set, the resplendent redhead lifted her second drink to her lips for another pull.

"I'm not sorry you did either," Michael smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled, but had to admit it felt good. He wasn't so drunk that he didn't know what he was saying, but both the company and the drinks had made him relax. It felt good. For now, he didn't want that feeling to end. She obviously didn't want to be addressed as his CO, so he wasn't even going to bother for now. If tomorrow the price would have to be paid, so be it.

Bingo. She had him. The smile was brilliant and wide from behind the gaping mouth of her glass, "Good. I'm glad that we mutually agree that we made an excellent choice in venue." Rochelle tittered light as a song bird and set the glass back down, savoring the slow steady warmth the drink continued to spread through her body. It was a good thing that she'd long ago become impervious to most of the effects of alcohol, but it didn't mean that she didn't know how to act the part. A finger found the inside of Michael's wrist, tracing idle circles, "Still. We should be celebrating life and getting the hell off that planet, not brooding in stale smoke." Catching his eyes wasn't hard, they were beacons against the dim lighting and loud shouts of 'Dabo!' from somewhere behind them. She didn't care about all that. She cared about what lurked behind those magnificent orbs of life - and she was going to get it.

Michael was too easy a target. He'd been feeling so awful for so long, that it worked like a drug to feel better. This woman had made him smile, this woman was expressing interest. This woman made up his entire world. He finished his cognac with his free hand, his eyes fixed on the circles being drawn on his wrist. They hypnotized him, drew him closer to the other woman. long forgotten who she'd be in the morning. Long forgotten what had made him come here in the first place. Right now, all he cared about, was this woman and what she could do to him. His imagination running wild, his smile widened. "We should celebrate life," he repeated, ready to give himself entirely over to her.

Rochelle should have felt poorly, or at least a niggle at the back of her conscience telling her that what she was doing was both wrong and dangerous. His life, very likely, would be ruined. This young, vibrant, self-tortured buck was agonizingly easy to manipulate, but that had come with youth and lack of experience and here he was now tainted and lead astray by the vision of the one person that should have guided him to become something more... Something... Better. In many ways he would be better. He'd be serving the Romulan Star Empire without ever knowing it and in exchange he'd believe that he wore the Commodore as a secret, sharing her in fantasy right under her husband's, a widely respected Captain, nose. Let the good times roll. "Yes," She nodded, carefully directing her eyes from his on down to his lips, "we should." The art of seduction was an incredible one. It took practice and she'd found it useful. So few times she did more than just allure, but this needed to be seamless. Her lips captured the fullness of his, briefly concentrating on the taste of cognac that clung to the lower one. It was a fleeting thing, but enough to either break the spell or seal it. "Come with me." She said, letting her fingers walk down his wrist and entwine with his, tugging on his hand for him to follow.


Lieutenant Michael Hawk
Chief Navigational Officer

Rochelle Ivanova (MU)
Romulan Star Empire


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