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High Society

Posted on Tue Jun 1st, 2021 @ 10:01am by Lieutenant Commander Feyd Relor

Mission: Shore Leave
Location: Various
Timeline: Current

[[Sickbay]]

“There you go, all set.” Feyd said, closing his medical tricorder. “I declare you fit for duty.”

Crewman Davis nodded. “Thanks doc,” he replied, hoping off the biobed and heading for the exit.

Business attended to, the doctor turned to nurse Grimm. “So uh…Thomas has invited us to his restaurant in Paris. He’s promised a night on the town as well.”

He scrubbed a nervous hand through his hair as he recalled the events of his dream, particularly the part where he held her naked body in his arms. “For some reason, he and Marie think we’re…uh…together.”

Natasha smiled in that way she had, her mind going a thousand places at once, wanting to say a thousand things at once. ‘Of course he thinks we’re together, the way we moon for each other’ or ‘why shouldn’t we be together, we like each other don’t we?’ or ‘Feyd, I’ve pined for you since the day we met and I know you’ve pined for me’

But what she said was. “Well, I won’t tell him we’re not together if you won’t. I think we both could stand to blow off a little steam. Let’s do it.”

Feyd nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

[[Earth]]

Feyd and Natasha approached the coordinates Thomas had given them, and found it had a line leading out the door and winding down the damp Parisian street. He groaned. “No way we’re getting in there, look at the line!”

He wore a Tuxedo and she a ball gown that made her look even more ravishing than she usually did. Natasha fussed with his bow tie a little and her hand lingered on his chest, causing him visible discomfort. “You clean up good, Doctor Relor, you know that?” Her voice was honey. ”Let’s see what we can do about that line.”

Natasha smiled knowingly and strode up to the front of it, ignoring the glares of half a dozen well dressed would be patrons. “Hi, I believe we have an appointment.”

“Name?” said the dour man at the kiosk, the tone in his voice indicating his doubt that they had any such thing.

“Natasha Grimm and Doctor Feyd Relor.” She said, emphasizing the word Doctor.

The man straightened. “Ah, you are special guests of Chef Jefferson I see. Please, right this way.” He said, leading them inside.

Thomas’s restaurant was like a palace, two stories high with vaulted ceilings and old school molding everywhere. The patrons seemed like the who’s who of Earth’s movers and shakers, from high level Starfleet dignitaries to government attaches. Extravagant furnishings and rich fabrics decorated the walls, making it seem more like a mansion than a restaurant. Light music filled the room, a four piece stringed quartet entertaining the diners. Feyd whistled low - it seemed Thomas had done quite well for himself.

The host escorted them to a private table in the corner, where he removed a ‘Reserved’ sign. All eyes turned toward Feyd and Natasha as they seated themselves, wondering who was so important as to be able to have a reserved table in Paris’s hottest restaurant.

Then, the murmur in the room went silent as Thomas strode out of the kitchen in his chef’s uniform. “Welcome, welcome to my humble restaurant.” He said, a wide grin on his face.

Lieutenant Commander Feyd Relor
Chief Medical Officer
USS Independence

 

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