Going Down Like a Led Zeppelin
Diziara strode into the mess and spotted Noelle sitting by herself under the windows. She approached Noelle's table, and looked down at the smaller woman a moment.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Diziara demanded, slamming her hands on the table as she leaned forward. Noelle looked up at her quietly, but when she opened her mouth to respond, Diziara continued. "Look, who you do and don't fuck really doesn't matter to me, but for fuck's sake, grow the hell up. Stop with this bull shit of trying to pretend it didn't happen. It did, pretending it didn't isn't going to change anything, it's only going to make it worse."
"Diz, you're a good friend... but for the love of god, can we not talk about this here?" Noelle looked around the mess, starting to blush a little as she noticed people were watching and listening. Diziara snorted and shook her head.
"First and foremost, what does a fictional deity have to do with sex?" Diziara stood up again, crossing her arms as she looked down at Noelle. "And second, if you're going to fuck an Andorian, even as a fling, you really have to get used to the topic coming up whenever and wherever."
"Diz, look, I've got some time after my shift. Do you want to meet up then?" Diziara sighed at this question, and Noelle frowned.
"Why do you hide?" Diziara tilted her head to the side as she asked this, and was met by silence from Noelle. "Get the fuck over yourself, and quit being so jay' stupid about this. It's just sex, either you enjoyed it or you didn't, but quit fucking with his head and just tell him if you want to continue, or not. Don't try to pretend it didn't happen, don't try to hide behind excuses. Just get over yourself." Diziara stalked off before Noelle could say anything else.
As Diziara hit the replicator, Noelle sat in stunned silence for a moment. When Diziara noticed Spiegel had slipped in while she was trying to talk some sense into Noelle, she circled the table he'd settled at, in the middle of the mess, and sat down to eat her lunch with him. Noelle slipped to the replicator, recycled her dish and leftovers into it, then quickly disappeared from the mess.
As Diziara and Spiegel sat talking and eating, Stace entered the mess. He was whistling as he walked through the doors, and Diziara glanced up at the sound of it. Spiegel didn't seem to notice the attention Diziara had turned to this new arrival, and so when this odd man with bed hair and a surprisingly rumpled uniform arrived at the side of the table holding something that seemed to have more of a grease content than Spiegel's hair, it left the spiky haired engineer just a bit surprised.
"Righ' 'en, w'o's 'is?" Stace asked, looking from Diziara to Spiegel and back again.
"Stace, Spiegel, Spiegel, Stace," Diziara introduced. "Spiegel's our resident go to man for good booze, and engineering witch doctor. Stace appears to be a linguist, near as I can tell through the accent and shameless attempts to fuck me." The unintelligible Brit grinned wide and offered his hand to Spiegel, who looked up skeptically at him.
"Nice 'a mee' ya. Ah 'ake i' your no' a boyfriend o' 'is 'ere ginger 'aired goddess?" Spiegel cocked his head to the side as Stace spoke, continuing to look at him silently as Stace bounced a little on the ball of his feet, even starting to hum to himself very softly as he waited for Spiegel to do or say something.
"I'm pretty sure he won't bite," Diziara told Spiegel with a sigh, and he finally accepted the offered handshake.
"Do you understand a word he's saying?" Spiegel muttered under his breath at Diziara.
"Eh, about fifty percent or so, give or take," she returned with a shrug.
"Ah don' unders'and 'e pro'lem. Ah'm speakin' 'e Queen's," Stace insisted, causing Spiegel to laugh out loud.
"How long has it been since you people even had a monarch?" Spiegel demanded, causing Diziara to punch him in the shoulder. Stace rocked from one foot to the other, back and forth as he considered his answer and watched Spiegel rub at his shoulder where he'd been punched.
"Sit down, you cocky bastard, you're making me nervous," Diziara directed. The invitation caused him to grin again, and he landed in the chair next to Diziara in the blink of an eye, left foot bouncing and right pointer finger tapping at the side of his lunch plate. Spiegel's eye started to twitch in time with the tapping.
"Ah'm no' righ'ly sure. 'Ey s'ill main'ain 'e royal family lines, Mum says we're only a few rela'ions away from 'e crown, s'ould 'ey res'ablish 'e monarchy. No' 'a' we'd 'ave need long as 'e Federa'ion s'ays s'able." As he finished saying this, he picked up a greasy deep fried thing from his plate. Dizira stared long and hard at the food-like substance in the Brit's hands, and eventually shook her head in disbelief as she turned up her nose at it.
"Not only is he cocky, but he's got delusions of grandeur," Spiegel muttered, causing Stace to tilt his head in question, though he didn't seem put out.
"Righ', w'o 'e bloody 'ell are ya ta judge, ma'e?" Stace leaned forward and took a forceful bite of his deep fried monstrosity. Spiegel involuntarily leaned backwards in his seat, his nose wrinkled.
"I am a perfectly level headed engineer, raised by my crazy catholic mother in the greatest city on Earth," Spiegel insisted, then took a defiant bite from his slice of pizza. Diziara snorted, and quickly took a bite from her lunch.
"'Ou don' seem 'o sound like a London boy," Stace mused and Spiegel visibly bristled.
"New York, I'm from New York!" Spiegel tensely corrected, causing Diziara to giggle again.
"O', 'e Big Apple!" Stace exclaimed, clearly excited. He seemed to not notice Spiegel growling, or how he suddenly stopped when Diziara shot him a look.
"Uh, Stace, they don't like it when you call their city The Big Apple," she explained to him gently, and the Brit frowned a moment as he considered this.
"Sorry, ma'e," he finally said. Spiegel was silent until Diziara shoved him by his shoulder.
"It's okay," he reluctantly said, then muttered, "As long as it doesn't happen again." This drew another giggle from Diziara, who received a glare from Spiegel.
"Ah always wan'ed o' 'alk 'o a New Yorker," Stace confessed, "Your accen's are in'eres'in'."
"Our accents? What accents?" Spiegel shook his head, setting down his folded slice of pizza.
"I's sub'le, ma'e," Stace insisted, and the beat of his tapping changed. "You people 'ave such odd vocal 'icks. S'and on line? W'ere did 'a' even come from?" Stace's head tilted again, and he gestured with his lunch in hand as the tapping continued. Spiegel gritted his teeth and appeared to be counting to himself.
"Spiegel, show Stace your book," Diziara suggested. Both men seemed to brighten, and Spiegel reached into his cargo pocket.
"Book? Abou' w'a'?" Stace leaned forward with interest as Spiegel came up with the latest copy. As Spiegel handed over his masterpiece, Stace set down his grease bomb of a lunch and wiped his hand off on the leg of his uniform. "I's i' real paper book form 'oo! Brillian'!" Stace flipped through the pages quickly, muttering to himself as he went. Alien phrases that Spiegel had added as examples of similar concepts in other cultures, or metaphors in languages other than English came through the muttering accent free. Spiegel's eyebrow rose higher and higher as he noticed this.
"He really is a linguist?" Spiegel muttered to Diziara as he leaned closer to do so discreetly. She nodded.
"When we were drinking and talking last night, half the conversation was in Klingon because, if you can believe it, his accent gets thicker as he gets drunk," she explained.
"Thicker? That can get thicker?"
"Tried the universal translator on it too... It just returned parse errors," she explained with a giggle. Stace finally looked up from the book.
"'Is 'ere is fan'as'ic, ma'e. Ah got a few sugges'ions, w'ic' ifn you'll le' me keep 'is 'ere copy, Ah'll ge' back 'o you la'er 'oday."
“Uh, sure, the replicator turns out as many copies as I need," Spiegel agreed slowly and Stace grinned again.
"Ah'll have 'o find me red pen..." he muttered, then looked at Spiegel. "Diz said you're an engineer. 'Ow many languages do you speak?"
"Just English and Tellerite," Spiegel answered, and Stace nodded.
"'En you did pre'y well for no' speakin' any o' 'ose languages. No' 'ad a proper linguis' go o'er 'e book ye', 'ave you?" Spiegel was silent at this question, and Diziara sighed softly.
"You mentioned something about playing guitar last night," Diziara said to Stace, and his gaze drifted back to her, Spiegel's book set down on the table and forgotten for the moment. Spiegel's eyes dropped back down to his pizza.
"'A's righ', no' so bad bu' could be be'er wi' some work," he admitted.
"Play any Zeppelin?" she asked, and his face darkened even as Spiegel's lit up.
"Ah could play some'in' for you from 'e men 'ose bloody bas'ards s'ole 'ere bes' from," Stace insisted. Spiegel's jaw dropped to the table and Diziara made efforts to not follow suit.
"What do you mean?" she just managed to get out before Stace started going a light year a minute. Spiegel's mouth kept opening and closing like he wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. Finally, Spiegel muttered something about heading back early, and stood from the table with half a slice left on his plate without waiting for Stace to stop talking. Diziara stared dumbfounded after her friend, occasionally nodding and murmuring a response at Stace when he seemed to pause expecting one. She finally stood herself.
"I really should be heading back on duty. I'll catch up with you later," she insisted, drawing Stace's ranting to a close. There was a collective sigh of relief that rippled across the mess when this statement finally pulled the steam out of his ranting. A look flashed across Stace's face as he looked up at Diziara standing above him.
"Ah didn' mean 'a go off like 'a'," he insisted, and she dropped a hand on his shoulder.
"Spiegel'll get over it, don't worry about it," she returned. He frowned, and she pulled her hand from his shoulder. "We should get together some time we're off duty at the same time, and you can show me some of what you think is better music than Zeppelin. You provide the booze this time."
"Sure 'ing, luv," he answered with a grin. She hit the replicator on the way out of the mess to recycle her plate. Stace sat with a bounce in one leg, his fingers tapping on the edge of his plate, and a grin, as he finished eating his lunch.
OOC: Now featuring translations from Stace speak to standard English. Simply hover your mouse over his dialog and you should get a tool tip with translation.