Catching Up Over Drinks (Day 3 - Late Evening)

Finding himself restless and at loose ends, Dorian collected a book, a deck of cards, and a bottle of his small batch bourbon. At this hour, the ship was quieting down, with most passengers and crew in their berths for the night. Hopeful that he might find one or two adventurous souls, the medic climbed the stairs toward the galley.

At this hour, Marisol was the only person in residence. The diminutive woman was bent over the sink, busily scrubbing cook pans and dishes. “Doesn’t look like mechanic’s work tah me,” he observed with a wry smile.

“Had to do a little late cooking,” she nodded over her shoulder. “I missed supper and the leftovers were gone.”

“Looks like yah didn’t dine alone,” he said of the number of plates. “Dinnah fah two? Anybody Ah know?”

“Vas Jat.”

“That so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “How’d that go?”

“He was…himself,” Marisol shrugged as she placed the last dishes onto the dry rack. “I had to bite my tongue a couple times to keep it civil.” She turned, wiping her hands with a dish towel. “Mission accomplished.”

Adler chuckled. “A positive amid negatives,” he replied. “Care fah a drop?” he gestured with the bottle.

She smiled. “Shiny. Let’s go to the lounge.”

Dorian poured two fingers’ worth of the rich liquid for each. “Safe journeys,” he lifted his glass.

“And new adventures,” the mechanic smiled as their glasses clinked together. A comfortable silence fell between them as each settled comfortably. “Mmmmm,” she finally said after savoring a mouthful of bourbon. “That is decent.”

He nodded agreement. “So….suppah with Vas. Yah think he did it?”

“Nope.” Marisol settled the glass into her lap as she stretched her ankles.

He smiled. “Care tah elaborate?”

She held a finger up as she took another sip. A moment later, Marisol answered, “Two things. Elle told me that she didn’t see her attacker. That right there proves his innocence.”

“How so?”

“Leads to my second point,” she draped her left knee over the right. “Vas is convinced that he’s never wrong. If he had it in his head to cold cock Elle, he wouldn’t sneak up behind her to do it.”

Dorian’s head tilted side to side, eyebrows lifted as he considered her point. “Ah can agree with that. Ah also think someone’s got an eye toward settin’ him up fah tha attack. Yah heard tha stolen bottles were discovahed in his room?”

Marisol affected an expression of faux shock. “Somebody planted evidence? On this boat? Say it ain’t so.”

“Touche.” He took a slow, luxuriant sip. “So, how’s life undah tha Lieutenant?”

“All good.” She gestured a silent request with her glass. As Dorian poured, Marisol continued. “How about you two?”

“Mmmmm,” the doc made an “iffy” gesture with his free hand. “Purely professional of late. She might be preoccupied.”

“Drake?”

“So tha timin’ would suggest,” Adler swirled his drink, before fixing her with a smile. “Think Ah might be assigned even or odd days of tha week?”

“You? Odd….definitely odd.”

“Cheers,” he lifted his glass.

Marisol’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Seriously…you think she’s pivoting away?”

Dorian’s expression grew thoughtful. “Possible…and entirely her prerogative. Ah did walk off tha boat, aftah all.”

“Well,” the mechanic’s eyes lowered. “If that’s the case, I’m sorry.”

“On tah bettah things,” Doc took the moment to pour more bourbon. “You and Lyen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Marisol Chavez, Ah have been yah friend since war’s end. Ah have poked around yah innards fah bullets, and scrubbed uranium outtah every nook an’ cranny yah got. Don’t think Ah can’t see how yah both light up at tha sight of each othah.”

She smiled into her drink. “I think it started at the cabaret…” As she related her thoughts, Dorian couldn’t help but smile for the excited sheen that rose to his best friend’s eyes.