Page 1 of 3 123 LastLast
Results 1 to 20 of 58

Thread: Food For Thought

  1. #1

    Complete Food For Thought

    The Alliance cruiser Bastak hung in space before Jovan Station like some stalwart sentinel. As if there was some sort of danger to be pushed away that had yet to be seen or detected in any way. Her form remained still, unmoving from where she sat peacefully. But far from waiting on the appearance of some unknown threat, her large hulk sat in repose, almost. She was simply waiting, and the crew members aboard went about their normal duties; as if they cared little for the massive station outside their viewports.

    Rear Admiral Castus Annen had been on the station for five hours, his time mostly spent in meetings. He had come for the express purpose of evaluating the command and tertiary staff aboard the station, and for this first round of interviews he was mostly satisfied. Of course, he had only met with three so far, which was why his allotted stay was set to seven days. Nothing out of the ordinary to be honest, and he certainly held no real illusions as to any sort of imagined expediency to this endeavor. It would be completed when it was completed, and not a minute before.

    Why he'd been chosen for this task remained beyond his realm of understanding, but he was never one to question the edicts of those who sat in seats higher than he. If it was wished that he carry out these interviews, then that was what he would do. Perhaps it was because he was a Selonian? That he would be brutally truthful and honest in both his questioning and evaluating? It was possible. His record spoke for itself, and he held a secret pride at that.

    But now, with the conclusion of his first day, Castus found himself standing at the entrance to a small, tucked-away restaurant. It was a Selonian establishment, of course. His surprise at seeing such a place listed on the available food vendor catalog was muted, yet present all the same. His curiosity and desire for proper food - from home - was what kept him from returning to the Bastak immediately following the conclusion of his first day. The distaste for the food on his own ship, or any Alliance ship really, was well known. And why suffer through an overcooked dinner when there was the chance that he could partake in his own people's cuisine?

    Aca Sanno.

    A lovely name, he had to admit.

    'Divine Food', if one were to translate literally. And for him, after weathering the normal fare he was used to having, he truly hoped that it would be just that; divine.

    Another few moments of lingering, as his wide paws came up to tug at the bottom hem of his duty jacket, and rolling fluid shoulders, Castus stepped past the threshold and into Aca Sanno.
    Last edited by Castus Annen; Mar 6th, 2020 at 12:05:53 PM.

  2. #2
    Joey stood in the doorway of the officers mess, his tail flicking idly behind himself. At various tables he could see wingmates, most all of them already tucked in to their own dinner, conversing with each other, while he'd arrived late. It wasn't his fault, he thought. They could get through the showers quickly and easily. Things were different for a furred race, even with the advantage of sonic showers being dry. Well, that and his grooming routine wasn't exactly short, either - it took a lot of work and fur-care products to look this good, he thought to himself.

    But all that work meant he was a good ten minutes later to the mess hall than everyone else, and all the really good food choices were gone. Another night of nerf lasagna, the fighter pilot thought to himself with a sigh. His heel lifting from the ground, Joey then stopped, and his boot descended once more. No, no last-choice option tonight. He had money, he wanted good food, real food, and there were plenty of options on Jovan Station. Turning on his heel, Joey smoothed his designer civilian shirt under his flight jacket, and headed back toward the promenade.

    Cizerack food? Nah, had that last week. Trandoshan? Ugh, no, heartburn. There were plenty of human restaurants and pubs, as well as countless other races, but most of it didn't sound all that good. For the first time in his month at the sation, Joey resorted to consulting the station's location guide, only to look over and see someone else doing the same thing down the way. Someone with a tail. And fur. And... no pants? Immediately food was forgotten as he attempted to circle in for a closer look, careful to remain in the stranger's blind spot on his approach vector.

    Weaving through the crowd, Joey drew closer still, smiling to himself when he could tell that this fellow was, in fact, a fellow. It was only by chance that he followed him to a small restaurant, and one which Joey had never been to, though it smelled... meaty? Shrugging, the Nehantite presumed that even if one was good between food or pantsless company, it would be an evening well spent, and he waited a moment before following the Selonian inside.

  3. #3
    A wispy Sullustan had guided him to a table, her over-sized server's apron constantly hitched up over bony hips that had not seemed to fill out. Of course, it was entirely possible that the woman was suffering from an over-active metabolism, and the Selonian chose to settle on that explanation rather than the other, more sobering one. She didn't look particularly unwell or upset, which gave credence to a body that burned through whatever fuel consumed faster than the mouth could ingest. Her smile was genuine, and her words airy as she gestured for him to sit kind words and a lilting laugh accompanying the menu that she slid to the table in front of him.

    Which, even the table was wonderfully tactile as he set a paw upon its' surface; knurled wood, sanded and polished to perfection. The entire decor was comforting, reminding of those old memories of the den; ensconced in earth and solid foundations. Oh, he was safe enough here on Jovan, but there was something that was unspoken, something that spoke to the soul when you were on terra firma and tucked safely within the walls of the ground.

    "I'm Raki, I'll be taking care you you today," a knife wrapped in a cloth napkin was pulled from her apron and set beside his menu, "... anything to drink that I can start you with?"

    The Rear Admiral let out a long breath, letting his claws come out just enough to test the table's surface.

    "A water, thank you."
    Last edited by Castus Annen; Feb 7th, 2018 at 01:11:47 AM.

  4. #4
    There was an unspoken rule about how quickly one could enter a restaurant after another person. Well, several unspoken rules. If you simply arrived at the same time, you were free to go in. But if you saw someone arrive just before you, it was on you to hesitate a few seconds, letting them select their table before you enter to pick your own. So, it was as Castus was placing his drink order that Joey took his own seat at a small, two-person table just far enough away from Castus, but close enough for a good look and personal acknowledgement.

    "Beer, please. Sunshine's Pride, if you have it," He nodded to the waitress with a smile as she looked to him, and he accepted his menu graciously. It was that moment, just before looking to his menu, that he took a proper introductory look at the Selonian semi-opposite him, and gave a polite smile and nod of hello before glancing down his menu as realization struck him.

    Holy crap, that's a rear admiral! He thought to himself, trying not to make his sudden worry visible. I mean, yeah, he's still a total DILF, and has fur, and no pants, and... No, Joey, he's a rear admiral! You know better than this! Besides, you don't even know if he's... into guys.

    The trainwreck of conflicted impulses continued to derail itself inside the pilot's head as he studied the menu blankly in an attempt to not keep stealing glances at Castus, though he couldn't control the telltale flick of his tail behind himself. When at last his brain focused on the printed words and images, Joey realized he had no idea what half the dishes were, and just how deep he was in over his head. He could see the waitress about to emerge from the kitchen area, and knew this was his only chance, so he looked up to Castus with a bit friendlier smile and asked, "Anything you'd recommend for a first-timer, sir?"

    Too late did it dawn on him that could be construed in too many different ways, especially with the insignia on his own lapels being that of a Lieutenant Junior Grade. And there went his tail again.

  5. #5
    He had nodded in polite acknowledgement, soon returning to his menu to peruse the offerings. It was all very rustic, with most dishes being some form of meat. There were some that had tuber sides, but the majority seemed to cater to a carnivorous diet. It was that culinary leaning that he was glad they maintained. From shaak fatcap to nerf flank cuts to seafood; it was all very delightful and seemed authentic enough. Certainly, it was better than much of what he received from the mess hall aboard his cruiser.

    Idly he surmised that Stali would thoroughly enjoy this establishment.

    When the Nehantite's voice reached his ears, Castus blinked slowly as his whiskers almost deliberately smoothed themselves back in an unconscious motion. Inkwell eyes lifted from the menu to track sideways, settling on the Nehantite with a level gaze.

    A bare moment of silence, broken only by the waitress whisking through the rough spun curtain that divided the kitchen from the dining area. One hand held a bottle of Sunshine's Pride, the other a glass of water.

    "It depends, Lieutenant," his voice cut through the momentary bit of awkward silence, a low rumble that seemed coated in silk, "... on your tastes."

  6. #6
    A chill, like intentionally cooled, blunt claws ran up Joey's spine at the sound of Castus's voice, and he fought to keep the shiver of delight he felt from becoming visible. What he could not hide, however, was the coy tug of his smile at the Selonian's choice of words. Was he reading Joey's tailflicks? Did Selonians use similar body language? In that moment, Joey realized he didn't know, and that he might be sending the entirely wrong messages. Warning bells fired inside his brain, only to be silenced as he accepted his beer with a smile and nod to their waitress.

    "Thank you," he said as he nodded to the waitress again, "I think I may need a few more minutes on the menu, here, though." There, that bought him some time to think - not only his meal choice, but about his course of action.

    The restaurant was just that, a restaurant. It wasn't a club, or a hook-up hangout, and the Nehantite continued to remind himself of that. Even more, this was a Selonian restaurant, and the Rear Admiral was a Selonian, so who was Joey to try and horn in on him as he simply enjoyed a taste of home? Not to mention it could be disastrous for his career in the Alliance Navy if he totally bungled interaction with a Rear Admiral. No, the negatives certainly outweighed the handsome, regal, pantsless positive, he told himself, and he resigned himself to simply having a good meal.

    His mouth, unfortunately, did not seem to receive that message in time. Looking back to Castus, Joey's smile still held that coy little twist as he replied, "Well... my tastes can vary. But I think I might be leaning away from fish, and toward some proper red meat. Preferably something without much on it."

    It was everything he could do to keep his eyes from darting down to Castus's exposed lower half, but that telltale, "How you doin'?" flick of his tailtip couldn't be stopped. In an attempt to save himself, he returned to studying his menu and reminding himself of just how bad of an idea it was to hit on a Rear Admiral.

    His tailtip flicked again on its own before Joey pulled it back in to his other side, hooking it around his ankle to make sure it didn't continue to put him in jeopardy of offending a superior officer. A very superior officer.

  7. #7
    Another slow blink, and the Selonian disengaged himself momentarily to send his eyes up to the waitress. She reached out to give his shoulder a gentle pat, accompanied by a reassuring few words before once more disappearing.

    Left alone more or less, Castus Annen passed a fleeting glance once more down the length of his menu before turning to look at the Lieutenant.

    The restaurant's lighting was a strange affair, casting a warm glow throughout the small interior to create a cozy, lived-in environment. Coupled with the rustic and rough-hewn decor, for the Selonian it was a place to feel comfortable - or at least, as comfortable as he chose to allow himself to feel. Fluid shoulders remained set back, his spine rigid as he sat. Even his tail remained still and unmoving; rather, it held fast to one side of his leg.

    "I would say then, that you would be well served in ordering the spit-fired shaak fat cap."

  8. #8
    "Mmm, I do enjoy a good spit-roast," Joey nodded appreciatively as he attempted to spot that item on his menu. The cringe which followed as his mind caught up to his words, especially when the term "fat cap" was involved with the item in question, was impossible not to notice, and he hurriedly stumbled his own better judgment in an attempt to explain his way out of it.

    "Well, not like that! I meant the food. I mean, I do like..."

    Danger, Will Rabeak! Danger! The voice of an old holovision series droid rang in his head as every alarm bell he possessed forced him to cease that line of speech entirely.

    Taking a breath, then a sigh which sent his shoulders down with it, he continued looking at the menu, and the menu alone. "I'm just gonna shut up, now, sir," he said, reaching for his beer to take a swig directly from the bottle. Not quite cold enough, but in that moment he just didn't care. Crash, and burn. He could practically hear the emergency speeders arriving to see if he had arrived that social transportwreck. Simply looking at Castus should have told him it was a bad idea to try anything like that; the Selonian clearly wasn't interested.

    At least the food should be good, Joey told himself. Just focus on the food and maybe, just maybe the Rear Admiral will forget any of this ever happened.

  9. #9
    What a strange reaction. Watching with a level gaze that betrayed nothing, Castus finally only allowed a last, slow blink before returning to his menu.

    "Do as you will."

    Pilots and their games, was his final summation. Was this something that the younger man had been put up to by his wingmates? Some sort of intelligence gathering mission? It seemed about the right modus operandi for many squadrons - choose the freshest face - the greenest pilot - and make them attempt to dig for the desired information.

    Chest swelling with a long inhale, Castus let it out slowly as the waitress returned.

    "Ah, yes. I will have the torched cave eel."

    "Alright then, and you want that on a plate? or a salt slab?"

    "Salt slab, please."

    "I'll get that right in... " she turned to the Nehantite then, noticing that he looked a bit uncomfortable in his seat.

    "You ready? Or should I give you some more time?"

  10. #10
    More time? What Joey wanted at the moment was to reverse time, grab himself away from the restaurant, and keep him from opening his big mouth in the first place. But seeing as time travel was still something out of a holofilm, he settled on just enjoying dinner.

    "Um, yeah, I'll do the spit-fired shaak fat cap, please," he said, reading it directly off the menu as his blunt clawtip traced along the title. Had he given it more thought, he might have selected something else, but it would be rude not to accept the Rear Admiral's selection, now, and the last thing he wanted was to make an even worse impression than he had thus far. "Salt slab is good by me," he added with a nod. If nothing else, it would make a good picture for his Instaholo account.

    Order placed, it was back to his beer, and for the first time in his life Joey considered that it might be a good idea to wear a pride pin. Jovan wasn't big enough to have its own gay community - at least that he'd found so far - and simply that little bit of advertising might be enough to spare him awkward guessing games and double ententes like those which had just landed him in his current situation.

    As the Sullustan returned to the kitchen, Joey took in his surroundings in silence, appreciating the authenticity - he supposed - of the decor, and how it honestly felt like he wasn't on Jovan. As his eyes wandered, they fell on Castus again in passing, accompanied with a simple nod of acknowledgement, though he said nothing. Garfife, waiting in silence after that gaffe was going to be torture.

  11. #11
    His food ordered, Castus allowed his paws to curl against the wood surface of the table, enjoying the tactile sensation of something other than hard metal or smoothed plastic. There was something comforting in the natural grains of wood and earth.

    He stared ahead, chest rising and falling with each long, slow breath. As if he was meditating, the Selonian's eyes closed by half as his mind settled itself into the rhythm of calm thought.

    Inner musings returned to his reasons for being at the station, and it wasn't long before he let his gaze shift, sweeping once more to the Nehantite in easy recognition. He had seen the younger man in the personnel files for Titan Squadron - one Jofar Rabeak. He stared in silence at Rabeak for what one might consider a rude amount of time before finally speaking.

    "You are Jofar Rabeak, yes?"

  12. #12
    It took less than a minute for Joey to realize that, unlike most every other restaurant he'd ever been to, Aca Sanno had no music playing. No audio atmospherics of any kind, not even a white noise generator. His own claw-tapping upon the wooden tabletop was brief, halted after the third tap as the sound seemed jarring and out of place. Sure, there were sounds coming from the kitchen, as one would expect, but otherwise Aca Sanno was silent, likely resembling the quiet, dim, homey feeling of a Selonian den, if he had to wager a guess. A far cry from the loud, brash and energetic feeling of a Nehantite dining establishment.

    Aca Sanno also smelled much different than a Nehantite restaurant, as he could actually smell the wood, the cooking food, and even Castus, with his sensitive nose. It was honestly a relief from the olfactory sensory overload of the officers' mess, and Joey decided he could handle a having made a brief fool of himself in trade for this unusual, relaxing setting.

    And then he noticed Castus looking at him. Intently. For a very, very long time. Joey tried not to let on that he saw it, instead admiring the decor, or following a line in the woodgrain on his tabletop with a finger. But the Selonian continued to stare with that expressionless face, judging him in silence, Joey presumed.

    Alarm bells rang in his head as his name was said aloud, his proper name, not the nickname he preferred, and immediately Joey snapped to attention, his pink eyes staring back into Castus's black ones as his posture found the nearest level of attention it could muster wile seated. "Yes, sir," he replied. "Lieutenant, Junior Grade. Most everyone calls me Joey. I fly with Titan Squadron."

    In the back of his mind, the question raged: How did this Rear Admiral know him? Was Joey famous? Infamous? Which of those two options was worse? Then came the overwhelming dread. The Rear Admiral he'd failed so badly at making a pass at knew who he was.

  13. #13
    "I will call you Jofar."

    'Most everyone' was... most everyone. They were not he, Castus Annen. It was nothing imperious, but it was the simple fact. It was his job to know the Alliance personnel aboard Jovan. From the command staff to the squadron pilots to the maintenance crew. It was his job. Inglorious, yet impressive all the same. There was a certain amount of satisfaction that one took in knowing at least the words of those that served. He had read files, yes, but nothing beyond. That satisfaction took an upwards turn when a being could put a face to the words and picture; to hear the voice and inflection. It spoke to the truth of a being's desires; of what they hoped to gain from service and what they hoped to achieve.

    "The Titans were transferred after Ossus. You were chosen to replace the deceased Lieutenant Hannik. I trust you are finding your assignment engaging?"

  14. #14
    Oh snap, not only did this Rear Admiral know who he was, he knew actual things about him! And was calling him Jofar, a name he was only used to hearing when he was in trouble. Remaining sitting at attention, Joey cleared his suddenly dry throat lightly before he could reply.

    "I haven't been here long, sir. And the Titans are a good bunch. Mostly it's been show-of-force runs, scaring off pirates, warning Imperial patrols that venture too close to the border, that kind of thing. No real action yet, but that's okay. I think I'm settling into my role well, and it's been good getting to know my wingmates."

    Especially Zane, he thought to himself.

    Daring a sip from his beer, he could see Castus's interest in him was not waning, yet the conversation - if it could be called that - was clearly in a lull. Daring to go on the offensive, Joey sought a bit of information of his own. "If I may be permitted, sir, I believe you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I'm afraid I don't know you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember another furred officer around here." Especially one without pants. "Might I ask what brings a Rear Admiral to Jovan, sir?"

  15. #15
    "I am here to evaluate the Command Staff, and some of those on the fringe, as it were."

    A succinct answer for a simple question, Castus never let his black eyes stray from the pilot.

    But, he was ever mindful of his manners, and gave a slow, deliberate nod followed by his own introduction.

    "I am Castus Annen, Lieutenant," and as if it was an afterthought, he continued, "... a pleasure to meet you."

    That he would come across a pilot was not surprising, and in fact he would have been disappointed if he had not. Jovan had a diverse set of individuals who provided the necessary support which ensured the continued safety of those aboard, and it only stood to reason that those beings enjoyed a diverse set of tastes. It was an opportunity that he was loathe to waste.

    On paw lifted then, to gesture to the seat opposite. An invitation.

    "You are welcome to join me, if you wish."

  16. #16
    A quick glance was spared back to the curtain which hid the kitchen, and Joey hesitated slightly, not wishing to upset the waitress if he were to change tables without her permission. However upsetting a waitress paled in comparison to possibly offending a Rear Admiral, and so the pilot nodded, and brought his beer with him. A closer look at Castus was simply an unexpected bonus, he told himself. Taking the seat opposite, Joey suddenly felt small compared to the size of the Selonian before him, but he tried not to let it show, and the swipe of his bare toes against Castus's was purely accidental, he told himself.

    "Thank you, Rear Admiral Annen," he replied. His smile as natural and easy, hiding the thousands of things which ran through his mind, both good and bad. If Castus was there to evaluate the Command Staff, that meant he'd be reviewing Anauri as well, which meant all the more reason to remain on good behavior.

    "Command Staff, huh?" Joey then asked as he transferred his beer from his bottle to a spare glass. Drinking directly from the bottle was fine around other pilots, but hardly okay with a superior officer. "Guess that means you'll be reviewing my dad's performance. Anauri Rabeak, Chief Engineer. I didn't know he was here when I got assigned to Jovan. And he didn't know I was coming, so that was kind of a surprise to both of us. It's been good, though. Never thought I'd actually get to see him again. From what I hear he's had his paws full getting this station back up to snuff, and keeping it running, though."

    Small talk, bit of personal information, but leading back to work. It was something Joey had learned how to break the ice with, when starting a conversation; give them something to ask about if they want, but don't fully deviate from the main topic in case they aren't interested. Those old etiquette lessons, combined with now only seeing Castus's dressed upper half, helped Joey remain on track for a proper dinner conversation.

  17. #17
    The moment of personal contact only resulted in Castus drawing his footpaws back a slight bit; obviously the footspace beneath the table wasn't entirely sufficient. No matter what, the withdrawal was both calculated and instinctual. His small ears remain perked however, taking in the words that Jofar Rabeak spoke. The admission of kinship to one Anauri Rabeak, and the further professions of having no knowledge that the elder was already stationed to Jovan. It was all very innocent. It was all very long-winded as well.

    For a being so used to minimal verbal interactions, Jofar's speech seemed breathless and verbose.

    "I am aware of the Chief Engineer, and now you."

    Oh, he'd certainly read the crew reports and files, knowing that Anauri Rabeak had a son who was as well stationed aboard, but to hear it from the younger's muzzle helped to stay any concerns over the two serving on the same posting.

    One paw shifted, moving to curl around his glass of water. The cool sensation of condensation met fleshy pads, but he ignored it.

    "Accidental as it was, I am sure that you were posted to Jovan for a purpose. The Alliance found you deserving, and awarded you in kind."

    His half-lidded gaze never strayed.

    "Your skills will be of great benefit to Jovan, don't you agree?"

  18. #18
    "I hope so," Joey replied with a shrug before taking a sip from his glass. "I wouldn't be a very good pilot if they aren't," he then added with a chuckle before leaning back in his chair, appreciating the soft creak of actual wood.

    "Titan Squadron's a tough name to live up to. They've been through a lot, and those who remain from before the rebuild are a pretty tight group. I'm confident in my abilities, and I hope I never let my wingmates down."

    It was an honest admission, and he wished he could brag about some great mission he'd been on with them already, or how he'd saved someone from a 6:00 bogey, but none of those things had happened yet. Joey Rabeak was still the greenhorn, full of technical prowess, but no works to back up his bravado. With a bit of a smirk, he lifted his glass and added, "Besides, the Alliance probably has enough propulsion engineers, already, and if I'd stayed on that track, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we? To unexpected meetings," he offered a toast, seeing Castus still holding his own glass.

  19. #19
    Thick whiskers flared out for only a moment before returning to their neutral state, and the Selonian gave a nod without raising his glass.

    "Indeed."

    Still he stared, not particularly caring on whether or not it was impolite. He was here to study and gauge the effectiveness of those here on Jovan. It seemed at the very least though, that Jofar Rabeak was eager to prove himself despite the follies of his academy days. It was refreshing, and rather what the Titans needed after Ossus. A healthy mix of the old and the new would create a stronger squadron, and a stronger squadron meant a level of cohesion that best helped the station. It was this that he chose to voice now.

    "Regardless of some of your previous... mishaps... I suspect that your addition to Titan Squadron will be a boon, and much needed."

    It was all very clinical in his mind - cut and dry.

    "The ability to mesh yourself with your squadron mates will be very helpful as time passes."

    His glass lifted then, as he brought the rim to his lips.

    "Just be sure that you remember a simulator cockpit is not the same as the real thing."

  20. #20
    To refuse the customary clink of drinkware in a toast was not something Joey was ready for, and his glass hung in midair just that moment too long for it to become awkward. As he realized there would be no returned gesture, he simply lifted his glass back to his lips for another drink - a drink which suddenly felt much-needed as Castus cut to the quick about his record at the Academy.

    Pink eyes went wide, his right wider than his left, which was still recovering the final after-effects of a black eye, and the smile faded from the Nehantite's face. Despite his drink, his throat went dry, ears lowering in cautious defeat.

    "Y-you know about... that?" he asked, voice wavering with uncertainty. Memories of a passionate midnight spent in the confines of a simulator with a guy whose name was unimportant, rudely interrupted by security, flooded back to him. How in the name of the Pit did Castus know about that?!

Page 1 of 3 123 LastLast

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •