ten_fwd | (no subject)

"Oh, shut up Joran."

Ezri mumbled to herself. He had never been this vocal before, well, before the Rite of Emergence. Which wasn't a mistake. He did help her catch the killer, not that Benjamin or the others would ever know. That would not be a fun conversation. 'Why no, Ben, I didn't use what I learned in Forensic Psychology, I just used Joran.' It would go so well. But now? Now she had to be vigilant. Ezri wouldn't be able to bury his personality as deeply as Curzon or Jadzia. And Ezri didn't have training in the first place. She didn't want to accidentally almost stab someone with a butter knife again. Talk about embarrassing. Benjamin hadn't been exactly understanding when that happened. Thank goodness Odo had come along, and taken the knife out of her hand before something really bad had happened.

Ezri had intended to take a walk along the Promenade, clear her head. That was until she wasn't in the Promenade anymore. She was in a bar. And it wasn't Quark's. It was....Ezri took a few steps toward a console. The U.S.S. Enterprise? Oh and they were at warp. The Trill put a hand on her stomach and another on her temple trying to fight back the wave of nausea and flashes of Torias' shuttle accident. Dying. Crashing. Oh no.

"Okay Ezri, you can figure this out. Just start by not barfing all over the security guard eating his lunch. He wouldn't appreciate that at all."

Ezri talked to herself.

"One. Wormhole aliens? Two. Spacial phenomenon? Three. I could just be going nuts. That's my clinical assessment of myself."

Ezri closed her eyes, trying to sort through eight other lifetimes of memories to remember if anyone served or visited the Enterprise D. That was....Curzon or Jadzia's time? Maybe she was just hallucinating memories. Did that happen? Maybe she should qualify that. Did that happen to her? It probably didn't happen to another other Joined Trill. That's Ezri, nothing easy for Ezri.

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The commbadge at least, Seven still didn't wear a uniform, persay. She wasn't actually Starfleet and couldn't see herself truly being.

Seven's actually startled a bit by Ezri sliding into the seat across from her--she'd been watching, she hadn't expected to be approached, much less confronted. She blinks a few times, as if she hadn't really thought about it before. She doesn't mean to be rude, she's aware that it's an undesirable trait from her lessons with the Doctor, but she knows that she's abrupt and...unused to the subtlety of communication among individuals.

(It didn't help that she was always overthinking it.)

She looks down towards the table, then back up, head tilted slightly. The woman had given a name--Ezri, no last name, which could be because she was concealing it or because she simply didn't want to. It was inconclusive. But it did require a response, and she gives her own shortened name in kind. "I am Seven."

"You seem as out of place as I am. Let me guess, you were kidnapped too." Ezri abruptly changed subjects, her mind churning out questions and comments at such a pace she almost couldn't keep up. "So, what's wrong with your food?" and she pointed to the plate. "Do I have something in my hair? On my face?"

Dax tried to work out why the woman was staring at her, and why her steamed vegetables were uneaten. If she didn't like them, why order it?

"An accurate assessment," Seven allows, glancing down at her plate as she was peppered with questions. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her food--it was food, and she didn't really care. That question was summarily dismissed. But she was also on all kinds of eggshells, trying to remember all the social lessons the Doctor had given her, and one of those was it was rude to eat while talking, even if it was efficient. Well. As efficient as taking in nutrients through ones mouth and digestive tract could be, which was not very.

"You have many things on your face," Seven says dryly, tilting her head. "Unless you meant something other than your spots."

Ezri gave the woman a small laugh. "No, I didn't mean my spots, not that they aren't rather prominent aren't they? You were just watching me. I wasn't why--I'm certainly not that interesting." Ezri pointed at Seven's plate, full of steamed vegetables. "Don't you like them?"

"You were talking to yourself. Your uniform is not the same style as the ones worn by the Enterprise crew." Obviously, that makes you interesting, Ezri, sorry.

She shakes her head slightly. She doesn't care about the taste of food, as long as it has the necessary nutritional content. "It's irrelevant whether I like them or not. What I do not like is the concept of eating." It's a messy, inefficient, but necessary thing. Necessary now at least. It hadn't been, not so long ago.

"Oh. Yeah. I do that. Well, I didn't used to do that, but I do now. Along with now being left handed, not knowing what to eat, or who I am in the morning. I'm having a little identity crisis."

Ezri looked down at her uniform and then to the sides at her grey shoulders. "Oh. Yeah. It is a little different isn't it? Why don't you add some spices. Even a little salt might help." Dax pushed the salt over to her.

Seven gives Ezri a bit of a flat, questioning look--not as intense as her earlier scrutiny, but she simply doesn't blink as much as the average human so it still might be unnerving.

"You were Joined recently," she observes--doesn't question, because she's sure she's right.

The conversational pirouettes Ezri is going through are frankly a little alarming to someone who can go literally days without talking to anyone (and had, since coming on the Enterprise, she doesn't like dealing with everyone's suspicion and so finds it easier to ignore them.) She's not overwhelmed yet, but it could happen.

"I do not need additional sodium," she says shortly, and then after a pause to mull over whether that comes off as too abrupt and rude, continues. "I must take care as to what I ingest." Think food sensitivity times a hundred, she's still even adjusting to eating at all.

"Sure you might not need additional sodium, but do you want additional sodium? Well, just keep it in mind. For later. When you're feeling adventurous.

Ezri tried to not be surprised that Seven knew she had been recently Joined, it wasn't exactly not obvious. "I was. A few months ago. It's....been interesting. Finding out who I am now."

Seven often doesn't feel adventurous when it comes to food. When she first started eating, the Doctor had warned her that she may have adverse reactions because of her enhanced immune system, until her human biology completely reasserted itself. Therefore, she plays it safe.

She's not the most perceptive when it comes to things like this, so it's actually somewhat surprising she picked up on it. She looks...sympathetic, almost, either way it's a muted expression, her face doesn't quite follow her eyes.

"Which is not as simple as it sounds."

"No, it's not. Especially when other parts of you keep trying to reassert themselves and you're not entirely sure whether you should let him. So, take this from me. Don't order Klingon food. Or drink. It's an experience best left to others. Even if at least two of me wants a raktajino, I have to learn to say no when at the replicator."

Ezri wrinkled her nose, remembering the taste. "Ugh, yuk.I can even remember how different kinds of gagh move down your throat." She tried to bite back a gag.