Chapter 14 - The Advisor[]
Geneva City
Terra
Sol Star System
Republic of the Sphere
3155
[Diplomatic Reception, 1830 hours local time...]
Francois remembered how his father 'taught' him to swim. Being thrown off the pier and told 'sink or swim boy!!" by the old drunk might have influenced his attitudes a touch.
Watching Commander Anh McCoy try to navigate the subtleties of a reception was, he imagined. A bit like watching six year old Francois Lafayette struggling to keep his head up in the waters of that pond.
The stereotype of the urbane, polished Lyran officer was taking one hell of a beating here. "...so crude, wearing a space suit to a diplomatic reception. It's like wearing a cooling vest to a ball!" Lady Garvey was saying, "And her makeup! what kind of-"
"It's not makeup." He said, and placed his glass on a steward's tray.
"Excuse me?" questioned Lady Gravey
"It's not makeup." Francois said, "That's her natural skin tone. Commander McCoy doesn't wear makeup. She's from Arluna."
He placed the champagne glass on a tray, "If you'll excuse me, Lady, sir?"
"Of course."
He strode through the crowd of dignitaries. Officers and minor Earth Nobility, to the far edge of the room. This was where Anh was doing a remarkably poor job of avoiding scrutiny and stares.
"Excuse me miss?" He said, shifting to French, "May i ask you to dance?"
She practically jumped in her skin, "Sir, I believe we...got in trouble last time."
"The drinks are milder here." he said, and gallantly extended a hand.
"Ah'm not thet gud a danceh." she mumbled.
"Let me lead." he said, "I can help you-ballroom dancing is something we do at the Academy. Hiding at the fringe of the gathering isn't working particularly well for you."
"Les gens regardent." she murmured.
"No, they were staring, now we're giving them something to look at." he corrected her, as the band shifted to a jazzy techno-waltz.
"nous n’avons jamais eu le temps de terminer ce soir-là." she said.
He smirked, "croyez-moi ou non, ce n’était pas la première fois que je me réveillais avec une femme étrange dans une cellule de prison."
"Truth?" she asked.
Francois nodded, "Though it is the first time she was disappointed at my...performance the night before. That was quite the wake up call."
She laughed, and it wasn't the crude bray, but almost a noblewoman's giggle, "Peut-être que je vais vous laisser m’impressionner quand vous êtes sobre."
"What is the policy on shipboard...romances?" he asked.
"Never with your crew." she answered, switching to English. "We mek 'lowances, 'coahse. y'kain'..." she slowed down, enunciating, "You can not be on deployment in such close quarters without something happening. As officers, we learn to turn a blind eye if a couple crewmen are in the missile magazine or one of the boats during a long idle period. As long as it's not a superior exploiting their position the unwritten rule says it's fine. officially. Of course, it's not, and a boat-captain can be court-martialed if they indulge with a crewman or fellow officer during deployment."
"Donc tout le monde, sauf vous alors?" he held the small of her back as they turned in time to the music. "Must be lonely."
"ayeh, 'tis." she looked up into his eyes, and he could see hers focused on him. "Discipline doit être maintenue."