Now my mind can't help but wander

Swaying a little, he drained his glass and skipped over to join Don, setting his empty on the table behind her. “How are you?” He blinked slowly, tilting his head and looking at her like an expectant puppy. ” What’s that you’re drinking?”

She smiled. "Because they still have some of that little spark of pure joy around. Although I've seen it around here, with a few people," that little helmsman kid, for example. 

"Kinda. Only when I'm with my family," she muttered. "Little kid's Christmas joy is contagious, I guess.

But there she was. It was like a magnet, or something, there had to be a logical but awfully silly explanation behind her visits.

It was probably the margaritas. 

Like the one she held between her fingers as she sat by her own, her foot tapping at the air to the rhythm of a song. Quite catchy, dare she say-- oh, Jesus. Was that the guitar boy?

"Hey," she called from her spot, raising her glass. "Just don't fall to the floor."

It didn’t even matter what he did, he just liked knowing that the little bleep on his screen - the thing that indicated another starship out there in space, was not just an immaterial thing. Their little blip? All the bodies in this room, and on the other decks. It was easy to forget, being a Captain. Now, he didn’t protect these people - nah, he was just another body inside the machine now.

Though on less deep and foreboding thoughts, Strat was actually here because he could get a good signal from Earth. The helmsman was on his PADD, waiting on Jesus to show up, and was watching a football game he could only get within Earth’s Orbit. But Zues- well— Strat had guessed about thirty minutes ago, had blew him off, which was fine with him. They were supposed to play dominoes, and usually when two of them ever did anything, it seemed like half the ship would show up. Right now, however, he was flicking his PADD screen, trying to get the archaic sensor to pick up a better signal, when some stranger with a mop of hair shuffled in next to him. Alfred didn’t even look up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he was trying to decipher who was uniform was on the screen. He really hoped that yellow card wasn’t his team. He frowned deeply.

She disliked him at first sight. Nothing uncommmon, really, especially because she'd quickly learned that any man who spoke to her like that might as well be a complete and utter bastard. Only that the scotch urged her to maybe just maybe give it a shot. It wouldn't hurt her, would it.

Then again, she was speaking before she could stop herself. 

"Well people don't come here to wath football matches either," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Only to get fucked up. In my experience." 

"Well, he is trained to hunt. But he’s also my…friend, companion, I don’t know.” She scratches the bird’s neck to calm him, and as a bit of praise. Even though she really had to keep him from going off like that, lest something else got killed. “See, I don’t have his hood on him. I didn’t really expect him to find anything.” 

It's pretty, she'll give it that. Nice feathers and even nicer beak, definitely powerful. 

"It's okay. As long as he doesn't mess up my workplace, or gets anywhere near my fish," and here she points menacingly at the bird, a warning, "then he should be fine. Alright?"

Before she can do much else, she watches as the bird leaves her arm. He never leaves unless there’s something ahead, and part of her fears it’s someone’s cat or tribble or something, until she hears an unmistakeable sound, talons scuffling against smooth tile.

"Nico." She drops to a squat, holding out her arm, and the hawk jumps obediently. She catches a glimpse of his prey; a white mouse, not any bigger than her finger. Maybe someone’s lab experiment. Nico rouses towards her, brown and white feathers on display, and then goes to work on the mouse. "Come on. That’s gross." 

Don looks around, and frowns as she catches sight of the responsible for her minor moment of troubling thoughts. These kids in this ship, they're gonna be the death of her. 

"Isn't it too crowded for it here?" She finds herself asking instead of why the hell do you carry around one of those things. To each their own, maybe? Jesus. 

Aria thinks back trying to remember the first time she ever held a gun. It had been a long time ago, but the memory was as clear as day. It was right after she turned sixteen. Mark, her stepfather who was the captain of the U.S.S. Strident, allowed her to hold his phaser and take a few practice shots in their backyard. It was how she fell in love with weapons in the first place. 

The memory reminds her also that four months later that terrible night happened, but she pushes those back, swallowing hard. “I was sixteen years old. I got to shoot a few cans off a fence with a phaser.” 

"I wanted to shoot a boy who kept teasing me and pulling on my hair. Unfortunately I never had a chance to do it."

An amused smile spreads over her lips as she watches Don run a finger over the rifle. “I hope so. Guess that’s my next agenda.” 

Aria steps aside, leaving the range open to her, “Go for it.” 

A moment of silence fills the air between them as she holds up the weapon, carefully aims, and fires. 

"When was the first time you held a baby like this, Aria?" She grins-- the target is gone, but she saw it hit pretty well. So it counts. "And I mean a gun."

You tell me that you didn’t lie because we never directly asked you the question, and I will knock your head off.