The Undying Art of People Watching
Posted on Fri Apr 18th, 2025 @ 3:17pm by Lieutenant Xavier & Lieutenant JG T'Avia Espinosa
1,728 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Preservation Instinct
Location: Starbase Riversong
Timeline: Current
ON:
The hum of the Starbase was low and constant, a comforting vibration beneath the soles of T’Avia Espinosa’s boots as she sat alone at a corner table in Café Elio, a cozy little spot tucked between the arboretum wing and the docking concourse of Starbase Riversong. The air was laced with the subtle sweetness of imported Bajoran spices and fresh brewed raktajino, but her drink of choice sat cool and creamy in front of her: a tall glass of horchata with a cinnamon twist—replicated, sure, but better than average.
She sipped thoughtfully, her dark eyes scanning the crowd with quiet precision, each passerby categorized and mentally noted like rare organisms drifting through a stellar tide. That Bolian couple arguing softly near the holographic koi fountain? Newly bonded, still testing boundaries. The Andorian ensign juggling a padd, a thermos, and a minor panic attack? Likely just off-shift, probably forgot to file their incident report.
Her eyes lingered on a trio of humans laughing too loudly near the viewport. Young, off-duty, trying not to care who noticed. She smirked.
It was a delicate art of people watching without being noticed. Her mother had taught her that. Her father had tried to teach her not to stare. T’Avia had mastered the middle path. Observe everything. Let them believe you’re only sipping your drink.
She brushed a strand of dark hair behind a pointed ear, her fingers brushing the delicate cartilage that had once marked her as an anomaly in both childhood cultures. Half Vulcan. Half Human. Entirely… herself. Eventually.
The chronometer on the wall blinked a soft amber: 0645 hours. The Ontario was slightly overdue. Given a mild delay from a solar storm in the Perseus corridor. Those could be tricky although quite beautiful up close.
So much time to process what it meant to finally be assigned to an Ambassador class vessel, her first deep space mission in quite sometime. The delay was giving her ample time second guess her uniform, her field notes, her very Vulcan calm. Enough time to pretend she wasn’t wondering whether they'd let her bring her own micro bio station aboard.
She took another sip of horchata. It tasted like Earth—sweet and warm, like childhood, like summers in Guadalajara with her tío’s chaotic storytelling and her abuela’s whispered prayers to stars long catalogued by the Federation.
T’Avia exhaled softly through her nose.
"USS Ontario," she murmured under her breath, the name tasting like potential. “Let’s see if you’re as graceful as your diplomatic reputation.”
Xavier had developed a routine at the station. He'd actually made good timing because of his confrontation with his brother and he'd left early flying at ... unadvisable speeds and he'd made it to the station with a week to spare. Today was the end of that week. The ship was overdue and Xavier was itching to meet the new ship.
The official name of his ship to be was the USS Ontario but he knew that he'd only be able to find out its true name when he slipped behind the controls and did some tests. The idea of a new ship a new class it was rather exciting.
Today he walked up to the counter of the full Café Elio and the coffee mistress greeted him. "Lieutenant, same poison as usual?"
He inclined his head. He didn't speak unless necessary.
She smiled and hurried about her business. "What you reading today?" She asked that every day because for the past week he had a new book. He held it up.
She squinted and her eyes widened. "Is that...is that a romance novel?"
He flushed green. "No... a study in relating to others."
She grinned. "Uh-huh. Well then. Enjoy the study." She waggled her eyebrows and handed him his Caramel Latte. He turned away and headed to find a table. To his utter frustration there was no place. There were plenty of chairs but he would NOT sit with a person he didn't know unless... there at the corner table was a Vulcan. He sighed. Vulcans were silent, they didn't chatter. He headed that way. He needed to drink the Latte here. It had become a routine, he would build a new one on the ship but if his routine was interrupted it would bring about doom at least in his mind.
Sighing he walked up to the table and gave a Vulcan salute. "Apologies...may I partake in my beverage here?"
Vulcans she thought restraining the urge to roll her eyes. Yes, she was half Vulcan and loved her papá, and she did not hate her Vulcan heritage. She simply found them to be different from who she was. She raised a curious brow and sipped her horchata.
"Proceed," she replied. "I could not help but overhear your pursuit in learning more about relating to others. "Please, have a seat and help me pass the time. I would enjoy discussing your spicy romance novel" she teased.
Flushing even more green he suppressed groan. It didn't take him long to notice the butterfly tattoo. That meant she was not a typical Vulcan. He wasn't either, to be fair, not with his eyeliner and styled hair but that usually kept typical Vulcans silent and this was not a typical Vulcan. "It is not a spicy romance...it is a study in how people relate." A lie he read for the spice and the romance but he'd die before he admitted that.
"Yeah...." she chuckled and sat her Horchata down and leaned forward quieting her tone a bit. She echoed back "A study of how people relate" and looked as him with a mischievous smirk. "From one green blooded compañero to another... that just sounds like Vulcan for smut." Toying with him was certainly a pleasant distraction.
His eyes widened the green spreading down his neck. Why the hell is she so good at reading people? "It is not...I assure you. I find it...fascinating how beings relate to one another. I do not skip the smutty parts...I MEAN I DO. I DO skip it."
"Bro, really?" She shook her head and blushed in second hand embarrassment. "You need a poker face if you're going to be carrying around that stuff for casual reading" she playfully reprimanded him. "What you like to read is your business. Skip it, don't skip it, that's up to you. Now, pray tell, why? Why do you need to know how beings relate to one another?"
He did groan this time and pinched the bridge of his nose. You can do this. You are the ice man. Just...
"Look, I don't do this." He gestured between them. "Usually Vulcans sneer and distain me on sight since I have the smoky eye thing going and the weird goth hair and tattoos...although you can't see the tattoos unless I get naked." He flushed again. "Which I don't!" He sighed. "This is ... this is why I don't talk to people. I don't do friends I don't do the whole love thing I read."
"Whoa there amigo, I can't...no. You roll up that tamale of self deprecation and save it for a counselling session" she quipped. "I don't want to see you naked. I see you clothed and I'm not interested. No amount of tequila is changing that, and friends? I choose them with scrutiny."
She shook her head and placed her face into her palm. Ay, Dios mío she thought. He needed extensive work and she pitied whatever Ship's Counselor he ended up with. "Yeah, about that eyeliner....one moment" She looked around as if she heard something. "Yes, I am detecting a temporal distortion in your vicinity. There's a subspace communique from Earth's late 20th century calling, they want their cosmetics back."
His heart hammered in his chest. Everything came out wrong with a capital W. It's alright, you will never see her again. EVER. Calm down "First off this," he gestured to his eyes. "Makes my eyes pop and I have imitated ancient human techniques to perfection! Second, I don't need to justify my style choices to you since I will NEVER see you again. Third..."
He was interrupted by the coffee mistress. "Uhm....you forgot your cinnamon roll." She placed it down on the table. She gave T'Avia a look. "Good going I think you broke him."
Illogical. I cannot break what evidentially has long been broken thought T'Avia.
Xavier glared but waited until the woman was gone before he sighed. "I forgot the cinnamon roll! That's why it all tanked. The list was simple, get a latte a roll and sit and read a book. I forgot the roll and then this." He gestured between them.
Before T'Avia could say anything further the Starbase' intercom crackled.
"Attention all personnel and visitors: The following vessels are now arriving and docking at their designated pylons and ports. The USS Ontario is securing at Pylon 3, and all Starfleet crew are advised to report to Deck 12 for disembarkation protocols. The IKS Fek’lahr of the Klingon Defense Force is docking at Port 6 – security teams are reminded to maintain cultural protocols during their stay.
The VCF Sehlat, representing the Vulcan Command Fleet, is arriving at Docking Bay 2 with diplomatic clearance—science and liaison staff, please proceed accordingly. Lastly, the USS Crawford is en route and will moor at Pylon 5. Starbase logistics will coordinate cargo transfers. Starbase Control out."
T'Avia grabbed her Horchata and stood. "That would be me. It was...an experience getting to know you."
He had literally been saved by the call. He sighed. "I can safely say the same. I wish long life, prosperity, and sanity protection for the crew you are with." He stood and crammed the roll in his mouth. "Eeuueee" He said around the roll. He winced at the butchering of Excuse me but to hell with it. He would NEVER see her again. With as much dignity as he could he tucked his smut under his arm and headed to his quarters. He needed to get to the Ontario and start his new life.
OFF:
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Lieutenant Xavier
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Ontario
&
Lieutenant JG T'Avia
Acting Chief Science Officer
USS Ontario
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