milliways_bar | (no subject)

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For whatever reason, Sariel didn't get becostumed the last time she was in the bar. Maybe someone supposed that the dream she had was enough for one day.

She didn't luck out this time, though. Two steps beyond the door there's a shimmer, and her uniform is . . . Well. Her uniform is a carnival costume, complete with long swishy green skirt, equally green blouse liberally dusted with gold sequins, and sparkly gold mask. Thank goodness her shoes don't have heels. Tiny little bells, yes, but not heels.

"Honestly, Bar...?" Her objection's half-hearted, exhaled on a resigned sigh. "I had forgotten."

It could be much worse, she supposes. It could be the angel wings again. Or the frighteningly short skirt of last century's uniform. Or another transformation.

OOC: All threads Millitimed to before Lore's.

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Too much bite indeed. Sariel flinches visibly, though she tries a little belatedly to hide it. "Yes, sir." That's in response to the first, not the second.

"The bar saw fit to change my uniform into a costume for the evening, sir," she offers, and she's still rather tentative, not to mention a little wrong-footed now. He must be making an effort to immitate human mannerisms. And human speech patterns. He...

Is something wrong, sir?

"She does seem to be playing a lot of tricks on people tonight," Lore muses, glancing around.

"As you were, Ensign," he says, crossing his arms and leaning back his chair.

That doesn't sound like Commander Data.

It *does*, in that it's Data's voice she's hearing, but immitation of human speech patterns notwithstanding, that simply doesn't sound like him. 'Playing tricks' without an attempted explanation of the phrase, and is that inflection quite--something feels off balance. Something feels wrong.

"Aye, sir." That's automatic, because what he says next *does* sound like him, and Sariel tries to follow that order. She really does. But he's leaning back in his chair, and his arms are crossed, and even if this is only an attempt at mimicking human behavior--something--

She doesn't ask her question outright. She can't fully articulate just why she doesn't, even to herself. Not right now, not in this moment. But something's on her sensors - something's--

"Permission to speak openly, Commander?" He's reprimanded her once tonight - she's treading carefully. Some things need to be asked, though.

Lore is quiet for a moment, pausing and looking the young woman over before responding.

"Fine. What is it?"

That's not like him. Commander Data does not - would not - does not respond to a formal request with 'fine'. Sariel knows this.

Something's wrong.

"Has the bar affected you as well, sir? In observance of the holiday?" Because maybe it has, maybe that's all this is, or maybe he's attempting to adjust his actions to the setting - maybe.

Hopefully.

Only now does Lore consider the idea that she might be onto him. It makes him just the tiniest bit nervous. But he'd never show it-- he's not afraid of this insignificant person.

Suppressing a sigh, Lore takes his feet off the table and gets out of his chair. He walks up to the ensign, standing just close enough to be uncomfortable and looking her straight in the eye.

"I do not know what you are referring to, Ensign," he says. "I am functioning within normal parameters."

He doesn't make much of an attempt to conceal the sparkle of irony in his eye, or the harsh, sarcastic tone of his voice.

It's more of a threat, really.

Anyone who calls Sariel insignificant is sorely mistaken, too. Say sorry, Lore.

Sariel flinches back, at his tone as much as his proximity. Maybe more than his proximity. Warning: Unidentified object approaching, dead ahead and closing fast. 200 kilometers, 100 kilometers and closing on current position. Take evasive action.

It's his tone of voice that clinches it. That, and the sparkle in his eye. This is wrong - something's wrong.

"Bar patrons have been given varied alterations in observance of a Terran holiday," she says. Her voice sounds brittle to her own ears, on the stilted side of formal. She refuses to let it waver. "Will you excuse me, sir?"

She won't leave until he dismisses her. She won't let her force composure crack until she's well clear. But she has chills, suddenly.

Lore never says sorry! (Even though he really should. Bad android.)

"You are excused," he tells her, with just a hint of a smirk on his face. "Oh, but before you go"-- he'll grab her arm if he has to-- "just promise me one thing.

"If you ever get the urge to mention this to anyone, don't."

His voice is dangerously serious. She'll know what he means, if she's ever brave enough to approach his brother again, and finds him acting normal.

(Lore's hoping this'll be enough to scare her. Because he really has no way of making sure she doesn't tell, and deep down he's worried what will happen if his brother finds out he's here.)

That tears it.

Sariel tenses involuntarily at Lore's hand on her arm. She's working consciously to reverse it the moment her brain catches up, but that doesn't stop the initial reaction. This is wrong. He's unnerved her, his hard vacuum coldness has scared her, to say otherwise would be a lie, but this is--

Hostile closing, 100 kilometers, 70, 50, 40. Evasive action, divert all available power to the shields.

She doesn't say a word. Lore could conceivably take her silence for ascent, but it isn't.

It's anything but.

Anyone who calls Sariel a minion is sorely mistaken. That isn't how she lives.

This isn't Commander Data. Not as she knows him.

Lore is wary. It's not his habit to trust people, and he's well aware that her silence could be one of defiance.

"Is that clear, Ensign?" he practically hisses.

His grip tightens, ever so slightly, as if he's trying to remind her that he could easily break her arm.

Oh, she knows he could break her arm. Sariel's well aware of android strength in the abstract. Commander Data makes no secret of his abilities.

This isn't Commander Data.

This isn't theoretical.

Commander Data doesn't hiss. Commander Data doesn't use physical force without good reason, and reinforcing a directive does not qualify. This is wrong. That increased pressure on her arm is chilling her, alarming her, actively frightening her; this is wrong - this is wrong - this is wrong. Red alert.

"Very clear, sir." It comes out a little quickly, a tiny bit shakily, but nevertheless, it's true. His wishes are extremely clear.

Sariel doesn't do contrary well, even tacitly, without a very good reason behind her. A lie to a superior officer, a sophistry--but something is dangerously wrong at best. At worse...

This needs investigating.

Red alert. Report.

This needs telling.

She has a good reason, today.

((OOC: Gaaaah! I only saw this now. Whew.))

"Good," Lore says, letting go of her arm.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to attend to." After giving her one last look, he walks past her and casually retreats up the stairs.

He hopes it was enough to scare her, enough to keep her from telling anyone about this. Just in case, he'll be extra cautious before coming down into the bar again.

He'd never admit it, but that look in her eyes made him nervous.

[OOC: It happens. XD We can wrap here or you can tag again if you'd like. Thanks for the thread!]

"Sir," she says. And then he's up the staircase, and she isn't, and she's left standing there in her carnival costume, cold with a chill that has nothing to do with her clothing.

He scared her, say true.

But some things need reporting.

Anyone who calls Sariel a minion is very, very wrong.

About as wrong as they'd be if they called her a coward.

That costume doesn't revert back to a uniform until she's opened the front door and put one foot through. It shifts in a shimmering heartbeat, and she's gone in the next second.

She won't reach for her communicator until she's shut the door and gotten at least two steps into the room beyond. But she'll reach for it.

[OOC: <3!]

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