The Olive
The Olive
Summary: Adele and Reighner chat idly.
Date: 43 ACH
Related Logs: None

A tall, thin woman in her early thirties. Her build is lithe, her skin a creamy white that sets off the reds in her strawberry-blonde hair. High cheekbones give her oval face a sculpted look, with grey almond shaped eyes beneath thin reddish brows. She is classically pretty, and she takes obvious care to ensure that she always appears tasteful - but there is a rigidity to her stature, a tension to her smiles, and an overall subdued quality to each expression she makes.

Today, Adele wears a ribbed white knit sweater, its sleeves ending at the elbows, slightly frayed as though the rest of them were cut off. Her khakis are well worn in, but neat, and the loafers on her feet look as though they've been run through the mill. Her hair is in a simple ponytail. Around her neck is a dogtag on a chain, identifying her as being a contractor in the employ of the Navy.

A middle-aged, balding man standing about 5'10 tall. His face is weathered and starting to crease. Thin eyebrows lay atop brown eyes, a narrow nose, and a prominent and dimpled chin. His hair is mostly black with some white strands.

He's dressed in a plain white dress shirt. Twill weave, barrel cuffs, narrow point collar, and well-fitted. The top button is unfastened, but the collar is loosely secured by a sky blue necktie ending half a inch below the beltline. Unusually, the tie's weave is coarse, giving it a textured look and suggesting that it's not silk. He wears a pair of charcoal wool dress pants, secured by a black belt with a silver tang buckle, and black dress shoes.


Adele looks distinctly out of place at a sports bar, but then - there's not much going on that's very sports related, anyhow. She is sitting at a table, chin resting on her hand with her elbow propped up on the surface, staring at a glass of lukewarm water.

The first thing Reighner looks at when he enters is his wristwatch. He has a leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He, too, seems out of place, and he seems to be aware of it. He gives the place a very cursory look before approaching the bar.

Adele's table is located at an obnoxiously close distance to the bar; likely she was seated when there was more of a crowd of bored Carina inhabitants. It takes a moment for her to register Reighner's movement past her table as something vaguely familiar, but when she does, she straightens up and calls out to his back, "Matt!" Maybe a little desperately.

There's a deer in the headlights sort of reaction. Reighner's steps slow as he looks toward the voice. It takes an unusually long time for him to register her. "A… Adele?" His eyebrows furrow, and he alters his course to come to the table. "What are you doing here?"

Adele looks mildly embarassed as Reighner recognizes her and approaches, but there is something grateful to her expression as she smiles at him. "Just… I don't know. I've never been in here, so I thought I'd check it out." She flicks her gaze over him and arches her brows. "What about you? Want to sit?"

"I'm lost." Reighner gives a little self-deprecating shrug of his shoulders. He pats the chair back across from Adele. "How about a real drink? Looks like you could use it." He doesn't sugar-coat it.

"Sounds like a plan," Adele replies, attempting to hail a server with the power of her gaze. It doesn't work. So she lifts a hand, waving as unobtrusively as possible - and finally, someone approaches. "Can I get a gin and tonic?" she asks, receiving a nod. As the server turns to Reighner to take his order, she regards him more thoughtfully. "You're dressed nice again."

Reighner quirks his eyebrows at Adele's order. He ducks his head as he slips the strap over it, taking off the messenger bag. "Well, I'll have a dirty martini, then." He sits carefully and rests a wrist on the table's edge. There's a slight, lopsided grin, and he asks, "I'm beginning to wonder what your definition of nicely dressed is."

Adele narrows her eyes a touch, leaning back in her chair. "The first time I met you, you were in a sweatshirt and jeans," she points out. "You know what they say about second chances at first impressions." She grins slightly, more relaxed now, though there is a lingering tiredness and tension to her bearing. "And I'm a little jealous of your wardrobe. I can either wear pyramid tees or… this sweater I had to modify because the left sleeve got singed."

Reighner grins fully. "That was lab wear." He makes a subtle gesture with the hand on the table to himself. "This is ward wear. I had a few squirreled away on the Genesis. Never did like the uniforms." He says the last sentence with a jokingly conspiratorial tone, knowing the military regulations. "You're welcome to mine." He adopts a tone of concern. "Can you fit a sixteen collar?"

Adele laughs, reaching a hand up to lightly encircle her neck, as if considering. "I think it might be a little loose," she replies, eyes and lips working to feign disappointment. Their drinks approach along with the waiter, and she accepts her G&T with a polite nod, swirling it a few times before setting it down. It sits there for about two seconds before she reconsiders and takes her first sip.

Reighner receives his cloudy martini with a nod of thanks. He doesn't drink from it, but instead watches her. After she finishes her sip, he asks, quite genuinely, "How are you doing, Adele?" It's a repeated question from last time, but said with a bit of a different meaning.

Adele lets go of a long breath after she swallows down a relatively generous sip of the drink, and she takes a moment to peel the miniature napkin from around the cold glass, to give her fingers something to do for a moment. When the little white square is scrunched up into a neat ball, she answers. "Crappy. I did something completely idiotic and selfish and alienated one of my only friends on this fleet in the process."

"Mmm." Reighner touches his fingers to the base of his cocktail glass and looks down at it. "This war, these circumstances, make us do silly things. Have you…" He looks up. "Have you read the research on stress in mice?" Going back to the science. "Remodels the brain. Makes us all a little selfish."

Adele pays similar attention to her own glass, tracing a line through the beads of condensation around the middle, looking back up when Reighner does. She considers his response, then nods with a faint, introspective smile. "Yeah. It's easy to forget how little removed we are from the neurons of mice," she states, pulling the glass to her lips again. Before taking another sip, she adds, "I wish my reward was a little more palatable, though. Cheese is far tastier than guilt." Down the hatch.

Reighner makes a subtle yikes face when Adele's busy with the rest of her drink. He looks over his shoulder and raises his finger at the bartender, signaling for another. "I'd argue that being alive is a pretty proper reward." He raises his glass by the stem and takes a comparatively smaller drink. "Although I wouldn't have said so a month ago." He takes a small sip.

Adele sets her glass down on its little cardboard coaster, angling her head towards it. "You're right," she replies after a pause, still looking at the clear liquid. "And I'm probably overreacting anyhow." She glances back up, Reighner's way. "Sorry, Matt. It gets a little lonely over here, and I've had time to pick through every one of my perceived shortcomings with a fine-toothed comb. Twice." She smirks; it's her turn to be self-deprecating. "Is anything new with you?"

Reighner nods, expression knowing. He changes topic without trouble. "The more things change, the more they stay the same. People are still not eating right, still ignoring their symptoms, still thinking they're better than their bodies. I'm spending more time in clinic than in the lab, and I've been more tired than I ever have." He smirks. "I think I'm a better researcher than a clinician."

Adele squints at Reighner over the rim of her glass, which she's lifted to finish off the last sip or two. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but her gaze and mannerisms are still fairly sharp. "Oh, come now. You can't tell me that knowing smirk isn't a hit with the patients." When her refill arrives, she looks a little surprised, arching her brows at Reighner.

Reighner shakes his head, keeping up with the smirk. "No, if anything, military physicians have the short straw. I had two patients today who were ordered to be there, and they were very vocal." When the second glass arrives, he glances down at it, then up when she arches her brows. He says, dryly, "There are two tragedies in this world, the first is accidentally running a gel with the voltages reversed, and the second is a woman without a drink."

Adele laughs as Reighner explains the sudden appearance of the drink, and she takes it gamely in hand, lifting it in a little half-toast. Her index finger straightens out to indicate his. "Where does a woman out-drinking a man rate on the tragedy scale?" she wonders aloud, then pauses a beat. "Or maybe most men don't consider that such a tragedy at all?" She tilts her head to the side, eyes flicking towards the ceiling in brief consideration.

Now it's Reighner's turn to arch his eyebrows, with a bit of an amused expression. "My fraternity days are long behind me, I'm afraid, but I promise you that, in my prime, no man or woman could've beaten me north of the the Scorpian Chasm." He raises his glass to meet Adele's. "I'll drink to that." And so he does.

Adele's cheeks round in a smile, eyes crinkling slightly at their corners. Her first sip of this refill is more conservative, but the liquid is clearly having its inevitable effect. She takes care to set down her glass with minimal sloshing. "I'm a lightweight anyhow," she reveals, leaning forward with her hands clasped in front of her. "I'd wager I've done more drinking during my time in space than I ever did in the whole of my college experience." She laughs, reflecting, then nods in confirmation before refocusing her gaze on Reighner. "Fraternity days, huh?"

"Sigma Phi until I die," Reighner answers. The words roll out of him as if he's said it many, many times. He takes another drink. Then, he lifts his eyebrows, nonverbally asking the return question.

"No," Adele answers, holding up the hand that isn't currently wrapped around her glass, palm out. "I minored in introversion. Sorority life was a direct scheduling conflict," she explains before taking another sip.

Reighner nods a few times, and then he takes another sip. "Wallowed away there. Forgot many nights. I was a literature major, but I was really an out of control alcoholic." He smiles a little, glancing down at his drink, seeing things in his mind's eye. Unregretful in tone despite his language. He takes a small breath and looks at her. "You said you were good at synthetic biochemistry, yes?"

At Reighner's words, Adele's smile fades, and once more she looks introspective. She swirls her drink, the melting ice clinking against the glass, and then his question summons her out of that reverie. "Oh. Yes. I made a little headway with the aspirin project before…" Kaboom.

Reighner was too wrapped up in his debauchery to notice Adele's change of demeanor, probably. He smiles a little and nods at the tail end of her words. "I have a textbook that I found in the ship's library. It seems to have good information, but I can't say for sure. Could you do me a favor and take a look, to see if it's on the up and up?"

"Sure," Adele replies, bringing that clinking glass to her lips again. Her demeanor shifts again, and by the time she's set her drink down she's meeting Reighner's small smile with her own. "I'd like to have something to read beyond the ghost-written autobiographies of sports personalities and low-carb diet propaganda I've found in my house." She lets out a preemptive chuckle before adding, a touch tipsily, "Or porn."

Reighner chuckles. "If you're tired of it, you can always send it to the Genesis. Care of the medical department." He takes another sip. Almost there now. "I'm always interested in dieting literature." An olive is skewered in the bottom of his glass, and he takes it out by the toothpick. "I'm surprised there's still any left." He lifts it up a little, offering it to her.

Adele's brows prick in surprise at Reighner's initial response, then loft even further as she laughs at the addendum. "They're bound to become classics - ah, the bygone days of having several wrong food choices to make." She lets out a little puffed sigh and then her eyes alight upon the olive. "Tempting. Especially since I didn't get a wedge of lime." She glances down at her drink, then back up. "But you clearly earned it."

"Gracious," Reighner answers dryly. He slides the olive into his mouth and chews. "I actually hate these things, but the brine is amazing." He washes it down with another sip of his drink.

Adele watches Reighner eat the olive, then scoffs amusedly at his words. "Not so gracious," she returns, before lifting her glass to finish off the last few drops of her second drink. She glances around for a server, waving one down a little more exuberantly this time. "I would like an olive," she proclaims.

Reighner smirks at her. He glances from the waiter to the woman and offers instead, "Why don't you let me walk you home, Adele."

The waiter is more than happy to let Reighner deal with Adele, and slips away before the slightly drunk woman can state her case. Looking back at Reighner, she purses her lips and crinkles the bridge of her nose. "Oh, all right," she breathes, reasonably, pushing off the table to scoot her chair back and stand.

Reighner stands as well. He puts on the messenger bag and reflexively recenters the tie pinned underneath the oblique strap. "My treat," he mentions as he places the meaningless paper on the table. With a slight nod, he says, "Let's go."

Adele is not to the point of stumbling or weaving, though her nod is perhaps a little animated for such a normally subdued individual. "Thanks, Matt," she tells him with a smile, moving to head out of the bar with him.

Reighner nods again. As they walk out, he glances at the courts and mentions, "I was looking for the clinic."

"Oh," Adele replies, glancing around the various courts and sports areas. "It's actually pretty close to the shuttle bay, but it's easy to miss," she informs him, tugging her hair out of its loose ponytail to redo it as they walk.

Reighner makes a displeased noise. "Damn. This place. Always larger than it seems." He casts a lingering glance when she rearranges her hair.

"It is," Adele agrees, letting her hands fall back down to her sides as she finishes gathering her hair. It's no better off than it was. "There's a lake in the park, even. It's… eerie. So calm." She veers diagonally, attempting to guide Reighner without verbal directions.

Reighner seems to take the cues. He nods a little when she mentions the lake. "Have you been at those medical conventions on the luxury liners? Big, big domes." He puts his hands out illustratively. "Bloody self-contained ecosystems, almost."

"Yeah," Adele replies as the townhomes come into view, the stadium looming in the distance. "This is all pretty similar," she muses, hands going into her pockets as she leads them towards her house. A for Adele. "The convention from hell," she adds, letting go of a single, wry laugh.

Reighner spares a small grin. Convention stories. "You'll have to tell me about it sometime." As the house gets even closer, he glances at the adjoining homes. "Do you know your neighbors?"

Adele's eyes go from home to home, and she nods once as her eyes settle on Townhome C. She indicates it with a sweep of her hand and explains, "I think a former contractor lives in there. Manny something. Long name." She pauses, then adds, "She and I don't, uh, run in the same circles, though."

Reighner glances down at his shoes as they clop along the path. "Still working on that minor?" he remarks dryly, but without malice. Soon, they reach the landing of her townhome.

Adele grins, pausing in front of her door. "Sometimes I consider switching," she says with a bob of her head. "I guess it just depends on the company, though." Her flickering glance towards Townhome C is brief, but telling. "Speaking of which, thanks for the drinks. And for walking me home."

Reighner follows Adele's look to the townhome. When he returns his attention to her, he's smirking. "Pleasure. Oh." He swings the messenger bag around and opens the main compartment. Digging through it, he says, "I actually have the book, here."

Adele looks far too delighted to be receiving a textbook; perhaps she's still a little tipsy. "Fantastic," she enthuses, holding out her hand to receive it. With a widening smile, she jerks her thumb towards the door. "I could run up and get you the diet books."

Reighner pulls the book out in short order. He lays it on Adele's outstretched hands. He smirks again. "Maybe later."

Adele looks the book over quickly, then tucks it under her left arm. She returns the smirk with something a little less wry and says, "All right. Thanks again. I'll see you, Matt." And in true Adele fashion, she extends her right hand for a shaking. She's never too tipsy for that.

Reighner looks down at the hand. He adopts a serious look and shakes Adele's hand. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Pike." Releasing her hand, he adds, more casually, "Say hello to Reece for me."

Adele's sheepish grin at Reighner's quip quickly fades as he brings up Reece. "If I see him, I will," she returns, dropping her gaze to the floorboards of the porch. "Bye, Matt." And she turns, toting the textbook, unlocking her door and slipping inside.

Reighner furrows his eyebrows after Adele leaves. He lingers at the porch for a few moments before shaking his head and walking away.

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