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Mar. 25th, 2014 11:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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thirdfaction[For someone who'd never been off Eternia, the promenade of the space Station Deep Space Nine was somewhat... overwhelming. It wasn't that Buzzoff was provincial or uncultured or anything like that: Andreenids were comfortable with technology, and Buzzoff's service with the Masters of the Universe had made him even more familiar with advanced tech than most of his people.
It was just a lot to take in, that was all, especially since he'd spent all of his time on the station up to this point sequestered in residential quarters and meeting rooms. Quiet hallways and private lodgings and spartan meeting rooms were nothing like the loud, colorful crush of aliens here in the public parts of the station.
Buzzoff wasn't the type to let that get to him, though. With his head up and his antennae perked, he zeroed in on possibly the loudest establishment on the promenade and strode inside, the other Andreenids in his retinue following just behind him. A temporary hush spread through the bar, but Buzzoff was used to having that kind of impression; there were lots of strange and wonderful aliens on the station, but none with quite the same combination of wings and chitinous armor and strange eyes and clawed hands and digitigrade legs that he and the other Andreenids possessed.
Well, his people were unusual on Eternia, too. Buzzoff settled his wings against his back with a flip and took a seat at the bar. His companions hovered uncertainly by him without sitting, looking out at the bright commotion of-- gaming tables? Buzzoff waved a hand, dismissing them.] Go on, enjoy yourselves. Just don't spent too much of our Queen's money, huh?
[He watched them move away into the bar, then turned back to the counter, looking around for a menu.]
It was just a lot to take in, that was all, especially since he'd spent all of his time on the station up to this point sequestered in residential quarters and meeting rooms. Quiet hallways and private lodgings and spartan meeting rooms were nothing like the loud, colorful crush of aliens here in the public parts of the station.
Buzzoff wasn't the type to let that get to him, though. With his head up and his antennae perked, he zeroed in on possibly the loudest establishment on the promenade and strode inside, the other Andreenids in his retinue following just behind him. A temporary hush spread through the bar, but Buzzoff was used to having that kind of impression; there were lots of strange and wonderful aliens on the station, but none with quite the same combination of wings and chitinous armor and strange eyes and clawed hands and digitigrade legs that he and the other Andreenids possessed.
Well, his people were unusual on Eternia, too. Buzzoff settled his wings against his back with a flip and took a seat at the bar. His companions hovered uncertainly by him without sitting, looking out at the bright commotion of-- gaming tables? Buzzoff waved a hand, dismissing them.] Go on, enjoy yourselves. Just don't spent too much of our Queen's money, huh?
[He watched them move away into the bar, then turned back to the counter, looking around for a menu.]
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Date: 2014-03-25 10:26 pm (UTC)Quark had been following the proceedings very closely. This was a huge opportunity and considering the ambassadors from Eternia were on the station at this very moment for talks with the Federation? He was in a unique position to take advantage.
Negotiations, as Quark new well, were alternately stressful and boring, especially after the first two or three. So... What better way to relax after one such session then to come to the best known bar on the station?
So far it seemed at least one of the new arrival groups agreed with him. Quark grinned as several of the bug-type aliens wandered into his establishment, wondering absently if they were as distracted by colorful lights as some other similar looking species.]
I don't think you and your kin need to be worried about money. You've got half the Alpha quadrant clamoring for trade agreements, after all.
[He remarked, flipping a plastic menu onto the bartop before the lone beeman.]
I heard the last meeting went five hours. You all must be starving.
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Date: 2014-03-25 11:14 pm (UTC)[Buzzoff grinned crookedly at the bartender.] You have no idea. This one went seven. [He tapped one corner of the menu against the counter.] Recommend anything in particular?
no subject
Date: 2014-03-27 12:32 am (UTC)[Quark prompts, not so subtly fishing for more information.]
Seven? That should be a crime. [He leans forward and presses a finger to the drink on the menu with the highest glucose content.]
I don't know your tastes, but I'd wager a guess this one might be up your alley.
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Date: 2014-03-27 04:38 pm (UTC)[His people have a long history of isolation and self-reliance, only recently broken, and Buzzoff might just think that this nonsense about interstellar Federations and trading and a wider galactic community is too much too soon for Andreenos. But he is nothing if not dutiful to his Queen, and he's certainly willing to make the most personally of this trip even if he's not super supportive of this whole trade alliance thing.]
You're telling me. I thought five was too much. [He peers at the indicated item on the menu, but it's all Spelean to him, so he just nods.] Sure, give me one of those. I'll try anything once.
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Date: 2014-04-02 04:46 am (UTC)[Not that he really cares what kind of government people choose to be ruled by. As long as they have a thriving trade economy.]
And why not be involved? This is galactic history here, you know. [Quark nods and grabs a bottle from the lower shelf and a glass.]
Unless you don't think your people have anything to offer.
[Mixing the drink takes him a minute or two, which he slides over once its done. The frothing top has some kind of small fruit tossed into the middle.]
Tell me what you think.