JDL ~ Cmdr Waterhouse & MCPO Caine ~ "Sittin' There And Wonderin' What It's All About" Pt. I/II

Posted on Fri Jan 16th, 2015 @ 1:55am by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Master Chief Petty Officer Rik Caine

2,854 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

"What's a Dick like you, doing on a ship like this?" Amelia couldn't stop the words from tumbling from her lips as she darkened the door of his office. The Jazz that had spilled out when the doors opened had been on par with the holo-recording her brother had found and she'd just spent the last two hours in the holodeck enjoying. Having already pushed her chips forward without even knowing the odds, she figured she might as well go all in. She draped herself against the frame of the door with a smirk, one gloved hand on her hip, and one coral pump clad foot tucked behind her other ankle. Her dress matched the color of her pumps perfectly, the back seams of her Cuban heeled nylons were straight, and her pearls draped around her neck at just the right length above the sweetheart neckline of her dress.

There were a stack of PADDs so high it was reaching for the stars and from the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the disorganised desk it had clearly been a long, slow night. Neither a hinky crewman nor clip joint to investigate. Yes. A slow night with jazz, paperwork and hooch. Hardly glamorous but then Rik Caine wasn’t much into glamour unless it was from a dame on his arm.

Her voice trailed through the air almost blending with the smooth melody of the saxophone playing from computer terminal on the desk. From a few feet away she looked like a whole lot of class, but then, class didn’t often find its way to a security office so late at night. He grinned to himself and knew she was going to be trouble the moment she walked in the office.

"Rumour was you were in need of a half-way decent gum-shoe so they shipped me out". He leaned back in his chair. "But that's my excuse, what's a dame like you doing in a dive like this? You found yourself in some kind of Dutch?" he quipped playing along and looking around the dimly lit office styled as far from standard Starfleet as he could manage.

She snorted in amusement as she crossed the space between the door and his desk, the doors sliding shut behind her with a soft whoosh as she perched herself on the edge of his desk. Her hand fell on the neck of the whiskey bottle, and she spun it to inspect the label as she pondered just what to say. The fact of the matter was, he'd shown up and settled in without so much as a nod to either herself or the Captain. It raised two finely shaped fiery eyebrows, and Amelia had volunteered to look into it.

"Trouble's my middle name, but usually because I'm the one spreading it, not the one stuck in it," she finally purred as she released her grasp on the bottle — it wasn't swill, but it was nothing to write home about either. "You've drawn a little notice from the bridge, so we thought we'd extend a proper welcome."

For a moment Rik was clammed. He knew he should have looked away seconds before he did, but the redhead had fire and was certainly easy on the eye. Truth being told he'd always been a fan of trouble and grinned at her comment. Probably why he ended up as an investigator; probably why he was so good at it. He needed another drink, a new hobby and an easy life but what he had was a keen eye, a phaser and a stubborn demand for truth and justice like a starved dog who just found the last meat-covered bone in town.

"Not one for making a scene, prefer to slip in quiet and do my job. I'm touched upstairs noticed and I made sure the transfer papers found their way to the right high pillow - I'm guessing you got 'em just fine or you wouldn't be here". He couldn’t help but notice she had gams light-years long as she took her perch on his desk.

He waited for her to finish eyeballing the bottle before taking another tumbler from the desk drawer. "Seeing as you found yourself here and there ain't nothing I can help you with work wise it seems, and what with you coming all this way just to say hello, how about a smell from the barrel to make the trip worth your while? It's not the best, but sure beats synthehol to warm you on a cold tub in the blackness of space. So how 'bout it, tempt you with a short - doesn't look like you're on duty unless there's a new uniform code I don't know about" he asked nodding to the dress.

"Well, I haven't been caught out of uniform when I should be in it." She winked as she grinned wide. "You have to assure me you're not on duty either, if we're going to share a drink," she insisted as her eyes moved to his, after a quick detour past the fresh tumbler. She half expected them to be shaded by a fedora, but alas. She couldn't help a small pout at the missed visual.

His eyes were a pale blue, like cool water reflecting off an ice cube. A little heart but a lot of sorrow. The heavy five o'clock shadow that covered his slightly squared jaw was neat enough to look purposeful, but rough enough to cast some doubt. That was the line that Rik Caine walked, able to blend in on both sides of the law which for him, was where he needed to be. To the untrained eye he guessed he looked like a common hood but opinion wasn't something that bothered him. He ran a hand through his carelessly tussled dark hair and grinned at her comment raising one eyebrow slightly with intrigue.

"Well officially I don't start until the morning, but something told me to settle in early... never know what kind of" he paused "*trouble* is gunna turn up when you're staring down the last half a bottle without another soul about". He poured her a large measure and topped up his own glass and took a swig.

"An old Earth writer once said there is no bad whiskey. There are only some whiskeys that aren't as good as others. Well, I don't know what kind of crazy he was... but this is a bad whiskey” he coughed, half-laughing as the harsh liquor hit the back of his throat. "Sadly it was all I could rustle up on the trade freighter en-route. Met a nice blonde, Pirate's moll, helped her out a little and this was the reward... not sure what that says about my abilities, but I suppose you'll be the judge of that. So... what do I call you red?" he asked playfully.

"Well, if you're smart, you won't make the mistake of calling me Red again," she quipped with a laugh, and took a sip of the whiskey despite the testament as to its quality. It went down about as smooth as sandpaper, and to her credit, she managed to not cough though there was no hiding the effort made to do so. "If I decide I like you enough, you can call me Amelia, otherwise it's Commander Waterhouse." It was practically a challenge, waiting to see if he was as daring as his looks hinted — would he take the invitation or just fall back on the safety of protocol? She set the tumbler down on his desk, resting her hand on top of it. She hadn't yet decided if she was going to finish the contents, but if she wanted to offer better, it would involve retreating to her quarters.

"I'm going to hope that it says more about the blond, and her failure to show proper gratitude, than it does about your skill," she added, her fingernails tapping at the glass in time with the music.

Rik couldn't help but chuckle "no offence meant, just didn't know what to call you and red seemed fitting at the time - but Amelia, well that's a very beautiful name". He paused as he took another swig of whiskey, grimacing slightly as the burning amber nectar slid down his throat like hot magma on rocks. "We can sure hope so, but I'm sure you've read my jacket and wouldn't have let me aboard if you weren't confident I could deliver the goods".

He looked at the woman perched on his desk once again, he wasn't getting dizzy for this dame but she was a beauty and he'd been wrong before - even if she was technically the boss. "Well you got dressed up and came seeking a drinking buddy late at night... I won't lie; I know you're taken with my roguish charm" he laughed part self-assured but mostly with ironic jest. "Still a dame such as you doesn't strike me as one that hangs around a dive with a gum-shoe unless you're partway sure you like him enough or perhaps intrigued enough to forget protocols. So..." He leaned in close and met his eyes with hers looking around like a canary about to sing "Amelia" he leaned back once more and let the use of her name sink in "you're a fan of old Earth jazz?" He said looking to her rhythmically tapping digit. He wondered if maybe he'd crossed a line with a command staff member that didn't know him, his style and contemplated if this would be a short assignment - still worth a risk.

The first time her name drifted from his lips, she grinned, though she could feel a slight blush rise at his complement to her name. She trusted her make up to hide the tell tale flush, she wasn't ready to concede that ground to him. Everything that came between it and the next time 'Amelia' danced from his lips was a testament to how his ego stretched to the stars like gravity couldn't hold it back. The urge to pluck the single support beam that would send it tumbling to Earth sang to her like a canary in a cage. But she liked the way his voice caressed the curve of her name.

"I was dressed for the holodeck, don't flatter yourself, Rik," she chastised him though she smiled, lifting her hand from the tumbler to wave a finger at him. "It just so happens that the program I spent the last two hours in was a live recording of a little Jazz band my brother ferreted up on Earth while Vindicator was in at Utopia Planitia for refit. Lady luck must like you to set me in the right mood before sending me your way. Though, if she loved you, she would have put the idea in my head to raid my booze collection first. I have much finer than this back in my quarters." And yet, she collected the tumbler and brought it to her lips again.

The idea of inviting him back to her quarters rapped at her consciousness not unlike the two am call of a nightstick on the front door. She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn't shake it as her eyes found his again. Disengage while you still have the upper hand, she thought to herself; yet there she stayed perched on his desk, foot bouncing in time to the music.

Rik Caine gave her a wicked grin that played across his face as if a line was being traced in the sand. "Well I s'pose I can believe that; although Lady Luck must love me just a little if he sent trouble wrapped in a dress that fine to chin with a Joe like me". He paused for a moment and took a final swig of the rough whiskey before emptying the last few precious drops from the bottle into his tumbler. "Impressed you like the old classics though, not too many in this day and age that have even heard of it, let alone appreciate it long enough to spend two hours in a holosuite and come seeking more".

Rik paused again before looking to the empty bottle, to her and then back at his own sorrowful excuse of a full glass. "Looks like we're all out" he mused letting the moment drag out a little as the song changed to a slower tempo number with a soulful canary breezing out some lyrics like a leaf on the wind. Whatever her story had been when that had been recorded, that doll had had a fine set of lungs on her. "Unless of course you're planning to confirm my belief in the good lady and invite me back for something smoother... Would be a shame if you made tracks when dressed to the bricks like that after all. I'm only thinking of you, you understand" he said with a small wink showing his hand and going all in.

"My, is that tongue of yours shining like silver right now," Amelia mused, spinning the tumbler in her grasp on the desk top. Staring into those icy baby blues of his, Amelia felt like she stood on the event horizon — one misstep and she'd go tumbling in, head over heels. In the back of her head a small voice reminded her how absolutely scandalous this was, the XO flirting with an enlisted man, but like the gin in a speakeasy, that made it all the sweeter. What would Rochelle think if Amelia took the next step and invited him back to her quarters? Even if it was just a drink, the gossip vine was hot on this ship, and such a dalliance would sizzle across it like a drop of water on a griddle.

She brought her drink to her lips again, to hide behind it as she considered. The firecracker rolled across her tongue and down her throat, and she couldn't help but long for something better to chase it away. She needed more time to think, and he'd provided her another topic to grasp like mobster would an alibi — the music.

"I was lucky enough to have a mother who minored in 20th century Earth history during her time at the Academy, and both my parents love music. Couldn't help but rub off, and I like a little bit of everything," she confessed, and took another sip. The more that passed her lips, the easier it flowed, and his boldness left her feeling obligated to finish what he'd shared with her unless she was going to retreat without him. In that case, the least a lady could do would be to leave the rest of the drink as a consolation prize? She felt like she was on the fast track to an empty glass though.

"Doll I've been shaking the few dimes I have left since you stepped on in - you sure know how to light up a doorway and a room and I'd be a liar if I said anything different. You should know I'm not in the habit of lying or going on the flimflam to get what I want so my words are all I got. And ya know, you're not exactly spinning less than silver yaself" he said with a smile watching her with interest.

He paused again letting the music fill the silence and the song do all the talking. The sultry tones of the music started singing about a girl meeting a boy and he let it linger before he spoke again. "Well it's good to know I won't be alone on this tub with my fondness for old Earth music. You must approve of my office design" he added looking around the room at something almost reminiscent of a PI's office in 1920's America. "See that gat behind the glass? Hundred per-cent bone-fide original" he said somewhat proudly of the antique six-shooter. "No idea if it still works, but belonged to a PI from Chicago who was shot by the mob in 1923. She's a real beauty". He looked back at the woman that he was sure could change the rise and fall of the sun with a single smile "different kind of beauty to a redheaded trouble-maker you understand" he crooned.

"You know, an old book I love has a quote that goes 'the French have a phrase for it. The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right. To say goodbye is to die a little'" he mused out loud enjoying the company of this siren that had caught his undivided attention. He was sure it was a rouse, a trap laid out before him in the night like a sneak on a staircase planning to clean a joint out but at the same time he couldn't help but enjoy the thrill, the chance of a game well worth winning.

=/\= Continued in Part II =/\=

Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

MCPO Rik Caine
Securtity Investigator/Chief of the Boat
USS Vindicator, NCC-78213-E

 

RSS Feed