Lorelei's debut

Lorelei had to admit that she was nervous. A little over a week had passed since the station wide emergency, and some people were still recovering from injuries, while others were recuperating from the stress. New arrivals kept command busy, while rumors and wild speculations about the cause and future consequences of the disturbance flew around the station. DS15 was in an agitated state, and people clearly needed a distraction - but still, Lorelei wondered if her musical evening would be a success. She only half-joked when, in the days leading up to her debut, she suggested to Commander Rai that he make attendance at the Ceti Eel that night a direct station-wide order.

And yet the bar was filling up, and she spotted several familiar faces in the crowd - Val, Akhil, Lieutenant Inabnet, even the station Commander himself. She gratefully sipped her drink - a much stiffer concoction than the champagne Falten served her the last time - and checked her dress one last time before stepping into the light and onto the little stage. The din in the bar hushed and a smattering of applause followed, most enthusiastically from Lorelei's clients. Lorelei smiled, lovely in a diaphanous peach dress that, under the bright light, made her look like she was wearing nothing at all. "Thank you," she said sweetly, her nerves evaporating as she held the stage and the attention of her audience. "Thank you for coming, and thank you to our dear bartender, Falten, for this opportunity to sing for you tonight." She raised her glass in the direction of the bar, the patrons following up with more applause for the Andoran.

"I won't bore you with a long introduction," Lorelei continued with a chuckle when the bar quieted down again. "This is a very old human song, and still so very lovely." She waited a moment, the last whisper dying out in the crowd, before drawing a breath. "You go to my head..." her voice curled like smoke over the audience in complete silence, "... and you linger like a haunting refrain..." The holographic jazz band flickered into existence behind her, picking up the sweeping tune.

Falten leaned back against the wall of the bar, her arms folded over a leather vest that let just a peek of the blue scarification on her chest curl up over the dipping collar. A few more tattooed designs raced along her arms, though her Klingon neck lettering was hidden behind her mane of white.

The attention on the stage had slowed the rush for liquor, which was a nice respite. It allowed Falten to swiftly pour herself a small glass of what was nearest to her (Draylaxian Whiskey, not too shabby) and enjoy a small moment to herself as HJ took control of the stage lighting. She'd spent part of the afternoon tinkering with his programming so that he could adjust the lighting and music instead of hover uselessly at the bar, and it seemed to be working. Lorelei looked lovely, and, Falten was pleased to note, sounded just as good. This had been a good arrangement.

This was a human song she did not know, though, as she had discovered in her travels, Earthlings had a rich history of beautiful music, and this was no different.

The whiskey was exquisitely spiced, and she rolled it around her tongue for a moment. It almost felt like home here, just for a second. Home had been a dozen places throughout the years, and she was hesitant to get comfortable anywhere, but DS15 hadn't treated her too terribly, yet. Cover up some of that Cardassian shit on the walls and it might be downright pleasant.

T'Pren had almost chickened out when putting on her new dress for Lorelei's debut. She had returned momentarily to her quarters to clean up and get out of her uniform, but as she stood in front of her mirror, staring at her slim form in the blue flowy fabric with her legs and shoulders bared, it seemed too much like she was a child playing dress up. She had worn dresses before -- Adlai was always particularly delighted when she sported them -- but not really since her internment and never one like this.

She had tugged at it and hesitated until it was really too late to change again, frowned at her bare, unmade up face, her lack of accessories, and the way her hair fell over her collarbone. If she was going to do it, maybe she should pull her hair up too and let her ears show.

Nope. Not even a little.

So it was that Pren entered the bar, actively convincing herself that it was just clothing and no different from her uniform, which was the only way to keep herself from hiding or blushing. But she did quickly grab a blood wine (she was going to need it for the dress) and pick out a seat for herself and Regan at the table with Akhil, offering smiles that she was determined not to have be shy to Val and the Commander and anyone else who caught her eye and deserved the effort.

She clapped appropriately at Lorelei's entrance and ogled the Risan with something between admiration and wonder, taking long drinks of her booze. When the first song was a human one, she smiled and relaxed noticeably, sinking down in her chair a little.

The station had gotten all dolled up, Falten noted, and she plucked at her pants idly. She had, perhaps, one fine dress in her wardrobe, but bar duties were never exactly kind to nicer outfits, so she had long since resigned herself to being underdressed on nicer occasions. Nobody ever really said anything when the bartender was a little shoddy. Her skin and hair were often the major outstanding points (she found herself often the only Andorian in a room, curiously), and that was good enough for her. That, and her accessories were permanent art on her skin.

She saw the young science officer slip through, looking simple and quite beautiful. Falten smiled. She was nearly sick with nerves - any telepath would feel that - but Falten hoped the bloodwine would help her have a nice time.

Regan was bundled up in a sweater and scarf from home, and clutching a steaming Tarkalean tea. Only her bloodshot eyes and forehead spots (oddly prominent against her sickly pallor) were visible under the fluffy bundle. She hoped Pren wasn't embarrassed to be sitting next to her. After nearly a week of a crippling flu, and self-imposed quarantine Regan had decided - well. Pren had decided - that she was finally well enough to leave her room.

Even so she felt like crap - an odd combination of illness, and the irrational embarrassment of a doctor knocked flat by a simple flu - and hoped that the music might help her recover some of her usual verve.

When Lorelei walked onstage, Regan raised her hands to clap but somehow forgot to finish the action once she actually got a good look at the performer. Risans have a reputation for great beauty, but this was absurd. She felt a flush rise under her scarf, and pulled it higher to cover more of her face, suddenly even more embarrassed about her present appearance.

Lorelei made Akhil promise to come to her premier. It was not a difficult promise to keep, though he tried to bargain with her with a request for his favorite Klingon aria - a request the Risan flatly refused. He leaned on the bar and watched Lorelei as she glided off the stage and into the audience, carrying her song with her. His thoughts wandered back to the time they first met, on Risa. It was the closest recreational outpost he took take advantage of while off duty, and he distinctly remembered the hesitation he felt at seeking out a non-Klingon partner. Hesitation Lorelei had no interest in, he thought with fond amusement.

As he watched her figure pass one of the tables, his eyes paused on its occupants - the Lieutenant was sitting with the new doctor, looking so unlike herself, Akhil couldn't help staring. "I can't decide if Lieutenant Inabnet is coming out of her shell voluntarily," he muttered in Falten's direction, "or if she's made some new friends."

Regardless of her nerves at wearing a dress, T'Pren could never be too nervous with Regan by her side. Her Trill classmate had been her buffer to the rest of the galaxy for years now and it had been especially difficult navigating her new post while she doctor was incapacitated. And despite the difficulties of her first week, she felt a particular pride at having come out of it all not completely broken on her own.

So it was that she quirked a knowing brow at Regan with a very satisfied smirk. See, the look said, I told you she was beautiful.

She chased this silent sentiment with a very smug pull of her bloodwine.

Lorelei weaved through the audience slowly as she sang, favoring a few of her regulars. The light followed her as she slowly made her way towards T'Pren's table. Her eyes met the lieutenant's, smiling at T'Pren's appearance, then moved slowly over the figure of the woman next to her. Lorelei didn't immediately recognize her, focused on her song, but she was pretty - bloodshot eyes and all. There was something charming about the way she sat, wrapped up with a steaming cup of something. As the music swelled and Lorelei's voice soared, she made eye contact with Regan, her palm softly touching down and gliding up Regan's arm as she walked slowly around her seat. Lorelei's delicate fingers ran from Regan's shoulder across the back of her neck and then they were gone as the singer moved on to the next table.

"yeah yeah." Regan mumbled into her scarf as though Pren had spoken aloud. At this point in their friendship, she didn't have to be a telepath to read Pren's mind. Especially when she was being all smug about something.

As Lorelei walked through the crowd, Regan sank lower in her chair. "oh no." she thought in a panic, "she's heading straight for us. She's going to see me!" This was all Pren's fault for being friends with everyone. Lorelei made eye contact with Pren and seemed ready to move on (Regan couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed) when she placed a hand on Regan's shoulder as she started to walk away.

Her finger just barely managed to graze Regan's skin where the scarf and sweater didn't quite meet. Regan thrilled at the contact and didn't feel so sick anymore.
Was this woman a songstress or a doctor?

If anyone was uncertain about the very particular friendship Regan and T'Pren shared, they could put their doubts to rest when the half-Vulcan's proverbial hackles raised slightly at the way Lorelei was touching the good doctor. There was a possessiveness and protective instinct there that made her sit up and forget about her dress. She watched the singer with a new kind of appraisal, though it wasn't malevolent, just wary.

It all vanished by the time Lorelei had moved on, abandoned in favor of a very big grin for her Trill counterpart.

"Did I mention she works at the bath house?" Pren asked cheekily, keeping her voice low so as not to interrupt the performance.

"ye- ahem - sorry. I must still be a little -" Regan had to force herself to look away from Lorelei's retreating form "- ahem - yes you mentioned that." She looked back at the performer, "And she sings. What a fascinating person.

Tal'Ara decided to go see what all the fuss was about at the bar.

But not before she changed her attire.

When she entered the crowded establishment, she was wearing a skin tight, black jumpsuit - an little old number from her Tal Shiar days [tasteful shoulder pads included, obvi]. It did wonders for her figure, which was otherwise lost in the unflatteringly loose folds of her Starfleet uniform. Over her shoulders was draped an ornate shawl of blue and green, made from the finest Tholian silk.

She confidently strode up the bar and tried to hail a drink.

Rai stayed in uniform for Lorelei's debut, he hardly had time to change. He came in so slightly late, ordering a flute of Kandora brut from Hologram Joe in a whisper and inching in between T'Pren and Akhil as she took the stage.
"Lieutenant!" he hissed in a stage whisper. "Nice dress!"
He felt a twinge of pride for his station finally coming together after a disaster.

Tal'Ara spotted Commander Rai and approached him with an icy glass of Romulan Ale in hand.

"Good evening, Commander," she said, professionally. "I trust your senior staff can handle their liquor well enough to be on time for our meeting at 0600?"

She was joking, but it probably didn't come off that way.

The Commander's entrance drew T'Pren's attention away from Regan and Lorelei and the smile of greeting she was about to offer him turned into a blush so green that her cheeks became the best possible accessory for her cornflower-colored dress. She was suddenly very aware of herself and extremely warm...but she also sat up straighter, looking almost as confident as if she'd been wearing her uniform instead.

"Thank you," she mouthed, awfully pleased.

(ooc: Small correction - Lorelei doesn't own the bath house, she just works there. )

"My senior staff certainly can, but I make no guarantees for myself," he said to Tal'Ara, only half joking.

(OOC: Maybe she should work on that.)

Regan didn't notice the commander enter the room, or her scarf slowly slipping off her face. She leaned over to Pren.
"You know her, right? She's helping you with your rooms, right? With decorating and de-Cardassian-ing? I know there's only so far I can help you. Do you have a - have you already arranged a time to meet with her? Because if you haven't that's not good. You should talk to her after she's finished singing. I mean she's right here you might as well talk to her."
Rambling like this was the most measurable sign in days that Regan was returning to health.

The lieutenant let Regan babble with the kind of pleased schadenfreude that only really good friends can get away with, her slanted brows raising as she waited for the doctor to peter out. Then she reached over without saying anything to unwrap her friend's scarf and smooth her hair out of her face.

"We have to tell her we enjoyed her singing, don't we?" T'Pren didn't bother to repress her grin.

She took one big swig of her bloodwine and shoved the rest of it at the Trill. "Drink up, Spot."

"Also that. I'll also tell her I liked her singing." Regan took the bloodwine, "thank you so much." She gratefully took a swig before laughing and resting her forehead on the table. 'smooth' Regan thought. "Pren will never suspect my awkward and sudden fascination with her new friend.'

Tal'Ara laughed at the Commander's joke and offered up a private cheers of approval with her glass.

"This singer, she is Risian, correct?"

Then Tal'Ara noticed T'Pren across the bar with her hair down and shot her a look of casual disapproval.

She shook her head and then turned her attention back to the Commander.

"I take it there is still work to be done with sorting out this Orb ordeal?"

It was with great fondness that T'Pren laid a hand on the back of Regan's head and ruffled her hair. So it appeared there were some people she was perfectly comfortable touching.

"I'm going to get another cup. I don't want your plague."

Although considering they were basically spooning at night, there was probably no need to worry about it at this stage.

The lieutenant slipped quietly from her seat, forgetting in her new position as wingVulcan that she was wearing a dress and not her uniform. The dress, with her easy, thoughtless, Starfleet confidence did wonders for her. She no longer seemed quite so young.

On her way to the bar, she paused momentarily by the Romulan and Betazoid. "Want anything?"

At T'Pren's offer, Tal'Ara downed the rest of her glass in a single gulp, and held it out in front of her between her thumb and index finger, letting it sway back and forth every so lazily.

"I could do with another round, if you don't mind, of course," she said, almost too politely.

"Yes, she's a talented Risan who works at the Two Moons," he said, throwing his bubbly back quickly.
"No, we'll discuss the destination of the Orb in the staff meeting tomorrow, I have orders from the Bajoran government," and as T'Pren passed, offering a drink, "Another champagne please?"
His eyes inadvertently followed her as Inabnet continued on.