1083: Shopping and Plotting

By Vol Tryst, February Grace and Dabin Reece
100507.1200
After Down to the Wire


The sound of lips smacking together as air was exhaled through them filled the immediate atmosphere.

As did the sound of a foot tapping on the tiled ground.

These sounds were coming from a man whose arms were crossed and his hip cocked to one side.

His gaze fell to the ground and his tapping foot.

*I'll be the first to support the fashionably late defense, but this is ridiculous.*

Vol took to drumming his fingers against his own arm. Indeed, he and Bru had planned to take advantage of their final days of shore leave and go on an outing together. The two of them had been so preoccupied that they really hadn't seen very much of each other. Vol had been tending to the Tress situation and Bru, well... anyone married to Dabin Reece couldn't be held accountable for not having a lot of free time.

So now Vol waited, in the center of downtown Paris, waiting eagerly to get the day started. It was already noon, and Bru had said to meet here. What they were to do today, Vol had no idea. Bru had omitted that small detail and…

Giddiness.

Anticipation.

A held breath.

These were all sensations that Vol felt... emanating from someone right behind him.

*Nice try, * he thought to himself, a smile erupting onto his face.

The Betazoid spun around and his arm immediately whiplashed, pointing at Bru.

“You... are...”

Bru was without a doubt disappointed that she'd been caught trying to creep up on the Counselor. So she stood up straight and walked towards Vol.

“Late. Yes, yes I know. Now give me a hug you big downer.” She grasped onto Vol's neck, Vol returning the gesture.

“I've missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Vol responded, pulling away and marveling at Bru's attire. “Nice shoes.”

Bru looked down, showing off her new silver-toned kitten heals. “Yea, to replace the ones you smeared with paint back on Sibalt.”

“Did I do that...?” Vol played the fool.

“Uh huh, and this day has been in the making for a while. My revenge is at hand.” February wasn't even attempting to hide her mischief.

“Uhh...” Vol's eyebrow raised suspiciously. Bru grabbed his arm and pulled him down the bustling streets.

“Come onnnnnnnnn...” Bru whined; linking her arm with Vol's as they began strolling together.

-=Paris Shopping District=-


Shopping.

Of course, shopping.

Vol looked miserable as he stood on a stand, facing three different mirrors as both Bru and a tailor circled around him. Fixing this, needling that, sewing that piece, marking this spot. Vol felt like a mannequin.

Bru stood up straight, having just folded the cuffs of the new pair of jeans she was going to make Vol buy, she looked straight up into the Betazoid's eyes.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Vol rolled his eyes and tried not to exhale heavily. “I…”

“Good!” Bru was looking past Vol and she approached the employee to collect the snazzy new shirts that Vol was going to be made to try on.

Vol allowed himself to sigh. There was nothing he felt more uncomfortable enduring than being fussed over.

"Now now, don't you…" she paused and imitated his sigh and slightly slumping posture before continuing, "...me, Vol Tryst. You can't look this good in clothes and not expect me to have fun playing dress up. Besides, you want to look just right for this little surprise we're planning for Tress don't you?"

"Not that one." Vol pointed to a shirt, as it seemed to approach him under its own power. In truth the hanger was just being held up on display by the quickly wearying tailor.

"Of course, Monsieur. Whatever you like…or do not like. You prefer maybe this one, no?"

Vol saw the next option, considered the pattern and nodded once firmly, smiling.

"No."

The expression was so incongruous to the word that it took the man a moment to realize what Vol had actually said, and Bru sighed. "We're going to miss our chance for lunch if we take much more time with this. So. If I may?"

Seeming to perk up at the thought that the finicky shopper in pink and the even more finicky shopper in gray might soon make their final purchases and bid him farewell, the man nodded. "Of course, Madame Grace. As you wish."

Bru quickly weeded through the pile of shirts. "No. Nuh-uh. Ow, my eyes! And this one is just about..." She was tossing the shirts, hangers and all up into the air and the salesman behind the tailor was quickly catching them and cradling them like a precious newborn child when Bru pulled out a shirt from the last left of the selection.

"This one."

She grinned and held it up to Vol.

It was a small cotton long-sleeved t-shirt that was charcoal in color. What made it pop were two silveresque bands which ran diagonally across the front, forming an X, and stretched halfway along the back. Vol bit his lower lip as he scrutinized the garment, before finally allowing himself to grin.

“That'll do.”

“It better,” Bru laughed.

-=Later at Lunch=-


As their cups of coffee were refilled one last time, Bru smiled contentedly. Her dessert, a trio of tiny cream puffs filled with vanilla ice cream and drizzled in chocolate sauce and confectioner's sugar, looked almost too beautiful to eat.

"Nobody knows puffs like the French."

“Pardon?” Vol looked up from his own dessert. A white chocolate fondue sat in a bowl on his rectangular plate, surrounded on all sides by mountains of fruit. Pineapple, strawberries, grapes, pears, orange, all being stabbed at in turn by Vol's fork and being dunked into the melted chocolate.

Bru just waved Vol's request to repeat away, continuing on her tangent.

"In fact, you know, this is the most fun I've had in France since I was Deveral." She took in the incredible scenery, closed her eyes a moment to enjoy the lovely music provided by a band of musicians playing around the corner, and seemed more at peace than Vol had seen her in some time. Sensing that contentment in her was a source of joy to him, not only because she was his shipmate, but also because they had come to be such dear friends.

He observed her a moment longer without speaking, just enjoying the bright, happy emotions emanating from her. "Yes, Deveral loved Paris. Actually he loved Parisians. There was..." She opened her eyes and a perplexed expression moved over like a thin, shallow cloudbank only eclipsing her smile for a moment.

"Yes, and there was....and..." now she bit her lip and giggled. "A lot of Parisians. You know what? Let's talk about something else."

Vol immediately felt himself go into Counselor mode. His head tilted to one side, he stopped and his eyes narrowed in a concerned glance. Bru noted the silence and looked up into his eyes, her shoulders slouching when she realized she might have to wiggle away from this one a little harder.

“Not now, please?” Her eyebrows rose pleadingly.

Vol finished swallowing his fruit.

“Fine.” It was clear he was not all too happy about, but would respect Bru's decision for now.

Bru nodded curtly as silent thanks.

“So... Tress's party?”

“Yesss...” Vol let the consonant drag.

“Did you have any ideas for a where?”

“Well...” Vol finished up the last morsel of his delicious dessert before wiping his hands and mouth with a napkin and leaning back in his seat. “...we should have it somewhere unique to her interests.”

Bru couldn't help but smile deviously.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Oh really?” Vol said daringly, smiling himself.

A moment passed.

“On the count of three, ready?” Vol said, leaning forward, heightening the suspense. Bru did the same.

“Ready!”

Vol counted:

“One... two... three… The Smithsonian!”

“The Smithsonian!”

Both pilot and counselor burst out laughing as their hypotheses were confirmed. They'd both been thinking the same locale and in some small unspoken way it reinforced their affection for each other. There was nothing like being friends with someone who lived on the same wavelength as you did.

“Did I miss some hilarity?” A voice came from behind Bru, she whipped around.

“Dabin!”

“You two are up to something! I can feel it in you, and Vol is biting his lip,” Dabin said to his wife after giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He flopped several large shopping bags onto a chair, each a different color with matching tissue paper spilling over the top.

“Where have you been?” Vol asked curiously as he eyed the bags.

“Shopping, duh! This is Paris! Look at this number!” Dabin pulled an exact replica of the shirt Bru had previously picked out for Vol out of the bag, and held it proudly up in front of himself. “You’re laughing, why are you laughing? Is it terrible?”

“No Dabin, it's perfect.” Bru said, tapping his hand to settle him down.
“Hmm, we’ll see…” Dabin stuffed the shirt back in the bag. “So, just before I interrupted Bru was thinking very strongly about the Smithsonian? What’s that all about?”

“A surprise party for Tress that we’re planning!” Bru replied.

“Oh! Oh! Planes, shuttles, spaceships and rockets! Brilliant! She can wear her little hat and goggles and buzz to her hearts content! And we get to have the real fun, watching her!” Dabin was already rubbing his hands together. “Oh and there needs to be a cake there! And not just some cheap little cake. I’m talking a CAKE. Something you need to assemble in orbit. It’ll have airplanes made of frosting and its own seat on the Federation counsel.”

“Ok, Dabin is in charge of the cake,” Vol said to placate the bubbling Trill.

“So we have a who, a what and a where, now we just need a when. Why not right now!” Dabin said hopefully.

“Well, because Tress just had a long day and needs some rest,” Bru said, “But as long as it is ok with Camen and Fleur I’m sure we can start something tomorrow or the day after.”

“…and cheese, we’ll need copious amounts of cheese. I mean like, enough cheese for it to produce its own measurable gravitational pull.” Dabin continued on as if his previous thought had never been broken. Vol just grinned as Dabin’s buzzing mind lit up his own. “What about the crew? We need to invite the whole crew!”

“I think, after all they’ve been through, that Tress and her family may prefer a more intimate affair, just for her and her closest friends,” Vol said.

“Oh, yeah, I suppose.” Dabin shrugged. He began unconsciously stabbing at the last of Bru’s puffs, which she intentionally left on the corner of his plate, knowing he’d eventually want a bite. “Just one question. Who gets to take the munchkin for her first ride in the Spirit of St. Louis?”



Vol Tryst
Ship’s Counselor
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

&

February Grace
Flight Controller
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

&

Dabin Reece
Chief Science Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012