Flip of the Coin

Posted on Wed Jul 10th, 2019 @ 4:00am by Lieutenant JG Paris Deville & Gired Greenwood

1,861 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Caverns of the mind
Location: The Lounge With No Name
Timeline: Before/After Away Mission (Maybe)

ON:

Paris walked down the corridor with a bit of style and a smile on his face. He had on a black buttoned shirt with rolled up sleeves, a red tie and vest, and red dress pants with black matte shoes. A gold chain hung on his left side, connecting from his belt to something in his pocket. With his combed back hair he stopped outside the lounge and took a moment to check his appearance before walking in.

Gired was in the middle of pouring a glass when Paris walked in, and he stared for a moment too long and the drink overflowed. "Sh!t," he mumbled. He handed the full glass of tonic water to the crewman and proceeded to wipe it up.

"You okay?" the Bolian teased him.

"Yeah. Just saw a guy walk in who looks like a freakin' poker card," the Romulan drawled.

Paris sat down at one of the stools at the bar, taking a moment to look around at the venue, before looking back down to the counter. He couldn't help but smirk. The place reminded him of the Playground, although smaller, it still brought back good memories.

Gired got a clean towel, threw the dirty one in the reclamator and walked down to where the new guy was sitting.

The Romulan threw the towel over his should and said, "So, poker man, what can I get you to drink?" he said in a deep voice with a Texas drawl. It was similar to other areas of the Old South, but rougher on the R's.

Paris let out a bit of a chuckle before replying with a smile. "You're making it very difficult for me to say sarsaparilla." He replied, in a joking tone, before saying. "What do you have on the top shelf, Tex?"

"Sarsparilla," Gired said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's Yridian Ale, Bajoran Spring Wine, and Pine Hill Mead, blackberry or elderberry."

"Surprisingly... no Romulan Ale?" Paris questioned with a raised brow. "Is that something you keep for yourself, Cowboy?"

Gired's eyes narrowed in annoyance and his lip curled. He may have been raised on Earth, but he was still Romulan and it showed in his physical reactions to certain things. "I was adopted and raised on Earth, smarta$$. But if ya would rather have a Romulan drink, I'm sure ya could go ta the Empire and get one."

"Do I look like someone who has read your file before walking in that door?" Paris replied firmly, still keeping to his smile, before adding. "Would you like to have some on your shelf?"

Gired hesitated, weighing the possibilities. His grandfather would never approve of it. He had a winery that he intended to pass on to his daughter, Gired's mother. Grampy wanted to have HIS bottles on every starship. He also didn't want to be indebted to this jerk. On the other hand...it would be a good idea to have some. Just in case.

"And how much would it cost me?" he finally asked.

"Absolutely nothing." Paris replied with a smile. "Originally, I came here to offer you a proposition. Something to help get people in here and liven up the place." He said as he stood up from his stool and leaned against the bar counter as he continued. "But I can tell how much having some would mean to you... so I'll get you a few bottles regardless if you say yes or no. In fact, if memory serves, I have a few bottles in my quarters. I will happily bring you two when I return."

"Okay. What's the proposition?"

"I would like you to place a grand piano somewhere in this lounge." Paris replied, a smile on his face, as he continue. "This is your place so I will let you decide where would be best for it. The point of it being, on my off hours, I will come in here and play. Now, I can play a pretty mean piano, as well as sing should the song require it." He pulled away slightly before leaning back in, speaking with a hint of enjoyment as he explained. "I want to bring some life into this place. Make it somewhere where the crew would look forward to coming to when they get off their shift. Some music could really get their hearts pumping and put some energy into them. I am not talking about turning this place into a club and having people dance around, Tex. I am talking about putting smiles on faces." He sat back down in his stool and took a breath, his smile never fading from his face. Finally, he looked the Romulan in his eyes and said. "Now I understand if you want to keep things as is. Like I said, I wont push. Either way, those bottles are yours and I will happily hook you up whenever you run short." He took a deep breath and added. "I'll be honest with you, Cowboy. Back in the day I had my own club, played my music and sang my songs, while everyone around me was enjoying themselves. I was in my own world and I kinda miss the feeling. Reminding people to enjoy themselves. You know?"

Gired thought it over, nodding. "A grand won't fit in here. A baby grand might but it would be a tight squeeze. I think a piano against a wawl would be best, given the space we have to work with." His green eyes wandered over the lounge, wondering where he would put the thing. "But I wanna hear ya sing first. I had a guy ask ta sing before and it turned out he wasn't good enough ta put on a show. So. Entertain me."

"Is that what its going to take?" Paris replied with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest, as he stood up straight. "Am I going to have to serenade?" He chuckled slightly before ending it in a smile.

Gired put his hands on the counter and shifted his weight to the other foot. "Ya know, you're not helping your case. You're startin' ta sound like my son, actually. When he was fourteen."

"And like I said. The final decision rests on you, so I have no horse in this race." Paris smiled before raising a brow. "Unless you would rather leave it to chance." He reached into a pocket and removed a silver dollar. He looked at it before holding it up for Gired to see. "What do you say, Cowboy, we let Fate decide?"

Gired shook his head. "Heads you sing, tails you don't. And don't call me Tex. Tex is my brother."

"I was thinking something more along the lines of: Heads, we have an agreement. Tails we don't." Paris replied with a smile before adding. "And you started it by calling me poker man."

Gired nodded. "Yes, I did, but my brother's name is literally Tex. Texas Michael Greenwood. So he goes by Tex."

Paris smirked, raising the hand holding the silver dollar coin again, before speaking firmly. “So am I flipping the coin, Cowboy, or not? Fate isn’t a patient gal and she won’t wait forever.”

Gired shrugged. "Go ahead."

He looked into the Romulan's eyes and smiled, twirling the coin between his fingers, before tossing it into the air. It lifted high, spinning quickly as it nearly hit the ceilings, before coming back down. As Gired would be watching the coin, Paris was un-phased, and kept his eyes locked on the Lounge Manager. Before their eyes locked again, Paris smoothly lifted his eyes to the coin, before catching it in his hand.

Paris held it there firmly, looking at Gired firmly, a smile still on his face. He placed the hand holding the coin, palm down on the table, before whispering softly to himself. Slowly, he eased his hand off, revealing the head side facing up. He quickly snatched the coin and held it up, with a smile, before saying. "What do you know? Fortune smiles again on her favorite flyboy. Another lifetime of wine and roses, accompanied by song and dance." He looked back to Gired before winking, tucking the coin in his pocket, before slapping the counter. "I hope your're not disappointed, Cowboy."

Gired shook his head. "Naw. It'll bring a good bit of Ale in here." He tried for a smile but didn't quite make it. "I'll see about a piano in here when we get back to Federation space."

Paris raised a brow, slightly, before replying. "Clearly, you weren't paying attention, my friend. The Ale was yours regardless of whether I lost the toss or not. My gift to you. None of this was on my shoulders in the slightest. You had all the power here. Yes... no... or 'I'll think sleep on it.'. I wasn't just searching for a partner, Cowboy, but possibly a friend. My apology if you felt otherwise." He tapped his hand on the counter and smiled again, looking around, before focusing back on Gired. "Professional note: Piano against a wall doesn't carry well. Acoustics's and all. You don't want to drown the music out. You want it to carry to the door, luring others inside, like a siren's song. Unless you're looking for that saloon look, which is entirely up to you, but allow me to say from experience its not as simple as the movies make it seem." Paris winked and smiled. "Food for thought."

Gired felt a little ashamed at that. Then he nodded. "And ya found one." He held out his hand in the way that he was taught. "Name's Gired Greenwood. Nice ta meetcha."

Paris smiled, taking a step back from the bar counter, before holding his arms out to the side before bowing at the waist. "Paris Deville. Pilot, Thief, Magician, Musician, and El-Aurian. The honor... is mine." He took a step forward and took the Romulan's hand, giving him a firm grip, before shaking it and pulling away. "Your world just got a whole lot more interesting."

Gired smiled, but shook his head. He'd known a lot of guys like that, and they were always fun...until they got you in some kind of trouble. Well, maybe he wasn't like Cousin Bubba.

He tapped on the counter, smirking playfully, before pointing to Gired. "I'll bring the Ale by the next time I visit. Till then... stay out of trouble. That's my job." Paris gave him a wink before walking away toward the door. "See you later... Cowboy."

As he stepped out of the door he turned and walked down the corridor, removing the coin from his pocket, smirking the entire way. Paris looked down at the coin to see its head side, then flipped it, revealing another head. "Never fails." He said softly as he put it away, turning the corner.

OFF

Lieutenant JG Paris Deville
Chief Flight Control/Thief/Con-Man/Pilot

&

Gired Greenwood
Bartender/Lounge Manger

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