Dinner Date Interrrupted

Posted on Sat Sep 22nd, 2018 @ 2:09am by

Mission: A Majestic Affair
Location: USS Majestic - Mess Hall
Timeline: MD7 1800 hours
2021 words - 4 OF Standard Post Measure

Isabella walked into the Mess Hall with Josh in tow. Neither had bothered to change out of uniform, both having just come from their respective duty shifts. Hers had been about becoming acquainted with her new office, counseling suite and small staff. His, she had learned, was spent writing press releases for the Federation News Network regarding the ship's probable launch date and starting to make some journalistic contacts both in and out of the FNN. He seemed interested in the new position, but it couldn't possibly hold the same excitement being a commanding officer had held. She knew what he had sacrificed to join her on the Majestic.

Both stepped through the double doors and were greeted with the heavenly smell of food actually cooking, not replicated, but real food. It was intoxicating and Isabella almost gravitated to the source instinctively. Stepping up to the small half wall between herself and the man cooking, she looked over to see the stove fired up with pots and pans working everywhere.

She smiled as her eyes met his. "What a pleasure!" she gushed. "A real chef to cook real food?"

Patrick turned to face her, turning down the stove so the food wouldn't burn. He smiled at the newcomers. "Yes ma'am," he answered politely, "real food for anyone wanting to have some. As long as some remains for the captain all is good." He grinned. "I'm really just her chef but I'll cook for anyone." He tapped himself on the chest, leaving a nice smear of some sauce on his priorly pristine white shirt. "My name's Patrick."

Isabella nodded. Her eyes danced over the symphony the man performed with spoons and ladles, pots and pans. "Isabella," she answered in response. "Ship's new counselor." Pulling Josh to the forefront, she added, "This is my husband, Josh."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," the young man answered, though he seemed to sober a little at the mention of 'counselor'. While he had no issues talking to one, he hoped the woman wouldn't turn every conversation into a session like some counselors did. "So what can I get you?" He gestured at today's menu, managing to smile yet again.

Josh nodded, but as usual Isabella interrupted him with her exuberance. "Oh! Irish stew? Is it made with lamb or mutton?" She wondered aloud.

"Lamb," Patrick answered, pulling up a bowl and dishing up a single serving. With her statement he assumed she'd be wanting the stew. "Sir?" he asked, looking up at the distracted male.

"Oh..." Josh responded, realizing it was his turn. "Far be it for me to argue with the missus, I'll have the stew also." He smiled genuinely, a disarming gesture for those who'd never been initiated.

Isabella turned and smacked him on the shoulder, playfully. "Since when do you not argue with the missus?" she asked seriously. "It's one of the reasons we butted heads when we first met."

Josh looked at the other man. "Latin temper... fully the recipient of it since that ring slipped onto her finger," he answered the other man, smiling again but this time directed at his wife. He'd made like it was a secret, between himself and Paddy.

Patrick smiled as he dished up a second bowl. "I hear it's almost as bad as Irish temper," he chuckled while handing the bowl over. "Feel free to come back for more, I've got plenty," he added, indicating the food. "How long have you been on board now?

Josh shrugged. "Might be willing to place a wager on which is worse," he joked, smiling at his wife. They both knew she could be hotheaded at times. Josh nodded at the man, excusing himself with his dinner. "Patrick, a pleasure to meet you."

Isabella lingered for a moment, and Josh knew her mind was already working on how to get into Patrick's kitchen. "Isabella...let the man be. Your dinner's getting cold."

Isabella offered a flash of a smile at Patrick. "I'll be by after I've eaten and cranky pants over there fixes his hangry," she responded with a chuckle. "Maybe we can talk more about cooking?"

"Of course ma'am," the young chef smiled, always happy to share his passion with anyone who was willing to learn. "Don't forget your dessert."

Isabella took the cheesecake slice he'd offered, bringing it to the table to sit with Josh. They spent the better part of thr hour eating, talking about their day, the people they had met on their respective staffs. Josh's staff consisted of himself and an editor, but he was also making a journalist's contacts. It was all very mundane.

Finished with their dinners and desert, Josh deposited their trays into the replicator for recycling. When he returned, Isabella's attention was fixed on the kitchen and its chef. He sighed, "You're going to bother him, aren't you?"

Isabella looked up at her husband and chuckled. Standing, she kissed him on the cheek. "Yes," she answered, knowing that simple answer would end his arguments. He'd learned early in their relationship that he couldn't change her mind once it was made up.

He shook his head with a smile. "I'll see you later then."

Isabella nodded and moved closer. "Don't be jealous, I'm pretty sure he isn't interested I my type." When Josh looked at her silently, she added, "Women."

Josh's mouth hung open for a moment before snapping shut. "Well then..."

Isabella smiled and patted Josh's rear end. "Go on..."

Isabella moved to the kitchen as Josh left the mess hall. "I must admit I'm excited to see a kitchen in the mess hall," she said, interrupting the chef's work.

Startled by the interruption, not having noticed the woman entering his domain, Patrick missed his mark and spilled the hot soup right over his right hand instead of into the plate. He yelped, dropping the spoon, splattering soup all over the floor. Cradling his hand, the chef turned. "Please don't sneak up on me," he begged of the woman, "and I asked for one to be installed. If I'm to cater diplomatic functions I need a place to properly work from. And since I'm not always attending to functions, I might as well put my skills to use and feed the crew."

"Oh my!" Isabella exclaimed, moving to the sink to wet a cloth with cold water. Turning back to the chef, she placed the cold cloth on his burn. "I didn't mean to startle you. Here," she said, taking his hand. "Let me help you with that."

Patrick hissed as the cold cloth touched his burning hand, tears welling up in his eyes. "What are you doing here? I mean on this side of the counter..." This was his domain, no-one entered without his invitation. He pulled his hand back, walked to the tap and turned on the water. Removing the cloth, he thrust his hand under the running tap, gritting his teeth.

Isabella left the kitchen and grabbed the medikit in the emergency station. Coming back into the kitchen, she held a spray device and took his injured hand, depressing the canister so a stream of topical anesthetic showered Patrick's hand. "This is nepivicaine, it will numb the burn while Inused the dermal regenerator to fix it," she explained, removing the other device and running it over his reddened skin.

"I didn't mean to startle you, I was just curious about your kitchen," she added as she moved the device carefully over his burns. "My mom used to cook traditional Latin foods with me when I was younger and I hoped that maybe I could cook for you one night," she suggested sheepishly.

"It's alright..." He looked up at her, interest piqued. "Latin food? What kind of food?" He gritted his teeth, making an effort not to look at his injured hand. He was already starting to feel quesy with the very idea of having a bleeding injury, even if burns generally did not bleed. "What can you cook?"

"Oh, the usual... Tamales, tacos, empanadas, tortillas. I particularly love churrasco, though it's more specifically a Portugese dish." Isabella shrugged to herself, finishing tending the burns. "There, that's got it done," she said, proud of the quick repair she had done.

Patrick flexed his fingers, half expecting for pain to shoot through his hand. When there was nothing, he dared look down. "Thank you," he answered faintly, "the last thing is that similar to churros? I sometimes make them as a snack or dessert."

Isabella shook her head and gave a laugh. "Not even close. It's a grilled meat, typically chicken or beef depending on which country it originates from. Heavily seasoned and grilled to taste. I prefer mine medium rare," she responded, the words coming quickly with excitement.

"Hmm that does sound nice. Perhaps you could make it for me sometime, see if it's fit to serve the crowds?"

Isabella laughed. "I haven't met a person who hasn't loved it yet. How about tomorrow? You've got a hand to heal anyway," she suggested.

"Tomorrow is fine. How long do you need for prep? And if you give me a list of what you need I can get with Tox to request them." Patrick smiled thinly; it was clear that he found it difficult to let someone else into what he considered to be his domain.

"It won't take more than forty minutes. I can do the prep and cook while you're off doing other things. Surely you aren't in your kitchen all day, every day," she suggested. You must take a lunch break or an afternoon break between lunch and dinner. I can do it then, so I'm not in the way," she suggested.

"As for the ingredients, do you prefer chicken or beef... Or I can make both!" She smiled excitedly.

"Beef, and a vegetarian version for the Vulcan population of this crew," Patrick counter-suggested, "though I do understand not all dishes are in fact adaptable to a vegetarian cuisine. You can use the kitchen between lunch and dinner."

"I'm sure I can adapt a vegetarian option," Isabella answered, excited to be allowed in a kitchen again. "This is so exciting!"

Patrick was less excited about turning over his domain, but he could hardly refuse now could he? Even if he had no additional duties, his only skill was cooking food. There was nothing else for him to do. "What do you normally do again, if you aren't cooking?" he asked carefully, already dreading the answer.

"Oh! I'm the ship's counselor," Isabella answered happily.

"Oh..." Patrick fell silent, all enthusiasm draining from him completely. Just what he needed, the ship's shrink in his kitchen. But he had already consented, he couldn't deny her now...she looked so happy about it. "Uhm..." How was he going to get out of this one, surely she was going to want him to talk to her now? "Well...as I said...between lunch and dinner, the place is yours."

Isabella nodded. "Well, I can't offer you my office, but if you ever need an ear, my door is open," she offered, looking to the door. "I suppose I'd better be off after my husband, he gets a little cranky when I dawdle." She giggled. "He did essentially give up his career to join me here, so I like to spend as much time as possible with him when we're able."

"Okay...." The answer was hesitant. Clearly, he didn't really feel like any kind of professional session, despite desperately needing one. "I won't keep you ma'am. I'll close up here."

Isabella could hear the hesitation in his voice, but decided not to press it. Instead, she would use their cooking sessions to get Patrick talking. It was always easier to make small talk when one was distracted by other things, especially something one loved to do. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Until tomorrow," Patrick agreed, relief washing over him as she didn't press the point.

---

Lieutenant Isabella Torres
Chief Counselor
USS Majestic

Commander Joshua Hart
Media Relations Officer
USS Majestic
[pNPC Torres]

Patrick O'Malley
Chef
USS Majestic
pnpc Lhaes

 

Comments (1)