COMMENT FICLETS
My writerbrain needs a jumpstart. So I'm doing that thing I sometimes do where I open myself for ficlet prompts and do my darndest to actually fill them all. Comment with a request and I'll comment back with fic
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"Well, who?"
Deanna sees where this is going and orders another martini. "Well..." She's quite used to running through crew rosters in her head. Usually not to this end, but... "LaForge?"
"Geordi? Oh, dear. I'd feel like I was cradle-robbing."
"He's not that young. And he's really quite..." Adorably eager was the first thing that came to Deanna's mind. Maybe she'd have to take that back. "Attractive."
Beverly gives her a quick grin of unbridled mischief. "Well, I never knew you felt that way. All right then. Worf?"
Deanna sputters her drink and laughs.
"Tall, dark, and handsome," Beverly prompts.
"You're horrible. And he is. Mmm. So uptight though." Deanna pauses. "May all the powers that be ensure that my mother never hears me uttering those words, or she might explode me with hypocrisy."
Beverly cackles.
"Data," Deanna says, emptying her glass.
Beverly blinks at her. "Is he even...?"
"Fully functional and programmed in multiple techniques. Don't ask me how I know this, I'd have to stonewall you." Yar had been fairly standoffish and defensive whenever Deanna had an appointment with her, but had opened up a little about what had happened under the water-virus influence.
"Oh. Interesting." It's Beverly's turn to stare off fuzzily. "That...that's an intriguing thought."
"Isn't it? He's unique. Completely unique. And such an interesting psychology..." Deanna stops herself from running off a little too much, from elaborating on her private musings on what it would be like to be with somebody with an inorganic mind, no emotional output whatsoever, completely unreadable. Data had almost alarmed her at first--what her eyes and ears told her was a person and her Betazoid hindbrain told her was an empty spot in space. But Deanna had always been the sort to turn fear into intrigue as a way of coping with it, and, well...
"Certainly a handsome body he's got," Beverly murmurs, shaking her out of her own rambling thoughts.
"Certainly," Deanna echoes, grinning. The bartender has deposited another martini with a cryptic cat-smile and drifted off, her strange purple robes wafting after her.
"So, er..." Beverly's searching her own crew roster, Deanna imagines. "Chief O'Brien?"
"Oh, dear," says Deanna. "Not physically attractive. Decent fellow, but...so old-fashioned."
Beverly laughs. "Have you met his girlfriend?"
"Keiko? He's a very lucky fellow." Deanna smiles. "Clearly he must have some hidden talents." They share mischievous smirks. "Lieutenant Yar," Deanna says.
Beverly sputters a little. "Pardon?"
"Tasha Yar. Please don't make me actually utter the phrase 'hot or not'?"
Beverly laughs. "Oh, yes. I'm rather straight. I think. You're not?"
"If you make one Betazoid joke, I'll have to throw something," Deanna says mildly. "And I--primarily, but." Largely because women fierce and, frankly, manly enough to catch her eye were rare.
"I mean, objectively she's quite lovely, I suppose. Though very...hard-edged."
"That's part of her beauty," Deanna says. "She's not...exactly my type, really, but still quite attractive."
"I can't quite see her doing rakish, no."
"Rare is the woman who can pull off rakish."
Beverly laughs. "Well, if it's going that way, then..." She pauses, leans close, and motions to the bartender.
Deanna blinks, thinks of that cryptic smile and the way her hindbrain can't quite process the woman's presence, gives her only a vague sense of something wise and enigmatic and ancient...
"Oh, out of my league!"
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