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ten_fwd_ooc2014-03-28 02:56 am
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TEST DRIVE #1 - Ten Forward

You know how you were standing there, back in your home world, just minding your own business?
Time to forget all about that.
Instead of doing whatever the heck you were just doing, you're standing in the middle of this very stylish, sedate barroom. Happily, you're not alone there - in fact you're surrounded by people who seem to be as confused as you are...and some of them look a little, well unusual
Now would be a great time to do....well, something. Ask some questions of the person nearest you, throw a fit, stage a coup....maybe do a little exploring? No matter what you do, you're going to be here for a very long time.
For others might call it the USS Enterprise, but for the foreseeable future, you'll be calling it home.
[OOC: this test drive's open until the next app period.]
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"I was near Innsbruck latest, though. In the mountains. What about you, Captain?" Yes, she does address him by rank; he's the first person she's done so to, showing absolutely no unease at military rank. There is, however, if Picard is so attuned, a strange feeling of being overheard, but in a sensory capacity most people are not used to feeling it.
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He is, perhaps, not as versed in his Earth history as his famed predecessor, but he is nonetheless well-educated. This would be the time a person more accustomed to dealing with children would smile or offer a sympathetic word. He does neither. "I was born in La Barre, France, in the year twenty-three-oh-five."
She'll notice he speaks with an English accent. The French language became obscure by the 24th century.
"And you are one of the first to recognize my insignia," he adds. Not very long ago, some Midwestern imbecile had the gall to insult his ship, not recognizing he was in fact speaking to its captain.
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"But you don't speak with a French accent," Sinthia notes. "Or even German. You sound English." This is confusing, obviously, by the way her brow creases. It's not the year; the year makes no sense to her, she can't process thinking that far ahead yet. It's well out of her projected lifetime.
She debates for a moment on what to say about his insignia before she opens her mouth again. "I wouldn't say I recognize it. I still don't know what each thing means, but you have four dots along your collar and I've seen no one else with as many." Sinthia does not add that he thinks of himself as captain, which is the surest thing she could point to, but letting slip she can hear thoughts seems both short-sighted and ill-advised in a strange place.
And she knows people don't necessarily like the idea that she's in their heads. "I assumed you would correct me if I'd addressed you by the wrong rank, so I guessed."
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"I do speak with a French accent. You see, this is how people sound by my time. It is quite a distance in your future," he says, shifting to face his teacup. "You made a wise guess. I'm sure you must be at the top of your class."
Observant, headstrong, impetuous — yes, Picard knows the variety intimately. Her coolness over the war also points to the fact that she has already matured beyond her years.
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Her coolness over war is really her only choice; she's not known anything outside of growing up under a megalomaniacal father who unfortunately shares some obsessions with their current political leader. Getting obviously upset over her situation could very easily mean consequences she doesn't have the ability to withstand.
"Will you tell me why we're here? Do you know?"
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He clears his throat, and has a sip of tea.
"I will tell you all I know," he says. "Which, I am afraid, is not much. I imagine this is your first introduction to space travel. Are you familiar with the concept of alien species?"
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"I am," she says, but doesn't go into detail. Telling about her father's obsession for myth wouldn't get her very far at all, she thinks. "Are they here?"
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He contemplates his teacup, dismissing the feeling of annoyance that admission stirs upon reflection of the alien he is speaking of. "There is a race called The Q. They are quite gifted, and one among them has decided to open the Enterprise to travelers from many different worlds."
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"You don't like people gifted this way," she hazards, and though she doesn't lean away from Picard she's less questioning, more ready to vanish in a second's notice. She's been told never to be afraid of her abilities, to keep them practiced and ready, and use them as if they were weapons for her to command. She's been good about that lately.
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"On the contrary," he says. "One of my most trusted advisers is a Betazoid. Her species can sense the thoughts and emotions of others. It makes her well suited to be the ship's counselor; however, I am not fond of those who abuse their powers as Q does, in tampering with lives."
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"I can teleport, and walk through solid things, but I don't want to. I don't know how thick the walls are and I don't want to get stuck."
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"Hmm." It isn't exactly a sound of approval, but more one of curiosity. And annoyance that his tea has suddenly moved without his permission. "No, I wouldn't recommend it. If you're unfamiliar with the ship you could end up floating in space."
To his credit, he doesn't seem alarmed, or even surprised in the slightest. "You've had these gifts your entire young life?"
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"My father...put me in a machine that gave them to me. A year ago...for me." Much longer now.
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Even if he rarely heeds its counsel.
"Is that so?" he says, glancing at the girl. "And was that what you wanted?"
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