[center][h1]Mango Wine with a Side of Brooding - Greenleaf Day 3[/h1][/center]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/pg6Bb2R.png[/img]                                          [img]https://i.imgur.com/iLwfbCy.jpg[/img][/center]

Cal reflected on the events of the day. When he'd thought of what might happen when he and Alana finally made it that 'backrub' he owed her, and what might transpire from there, he hadn't considered how he might feel after all was said and done. Sure, he'd guessed that there would be some release and probably some regret, but he'd seen that all before. To his mind, their date was fixin' to be a one-night-stand, with sideways glances and avoiding each other in the galley 'til the next stop. He'd vowed not to think on it until that time came, and that was just it: it hadn't come. 

His time in the lagoon with the doc had gone well--better than he'd considered. Truth be told, he was relieved. Whatever he was feeling for his new crew, it wasn't black and white, nor was it akin to previous crews he'd hired along.

As he sat in his quarters at the pull-out desk, pouring over the holo-clipboard with a half glass of that mango wine, a crystal clear voice penetrated the silence of his refracted gaze.

"Hello Cal, how was your date with Doctor Lysanger?" Sam's voice was curious, but cautious. To his ear she might be learning to hedge her bets with the nuance  of inflection. Damn if that little black box wasn't more than the sum of its parts.

"So we're talkin' in my quarters now, are we? Can't a man get a minute of quiet to hisself?" Cal's brows had knit as soon as he said it.

After a moment the com crackled alive again, "Sorry to hear it didn't go as planned. If you like, I can leave you to your thoughts." The wall com fizzled to static for a moment.

"No," Cal backpedaled. "No, it didn't go as planned." But that begged the question of what he had expected when he drove Alana out there in that beautiful sun dress of hers. "It went better than expected, I suppose." He lifted the glass to his lips.

"That's good, isn't it? If so, then why are you nursing a glass alone?" The speaker elucidated the confusion in Sam's voice.

"It is good," he said, interrogating the glass in his hand. It tasted like Alana to him now, the way their kiss lingered while they melted into the warm sand. The way it cut through the tobacco on his tongue and created some kind of electric medium between the bitter and sweet.

Sam considered what it was that Cal was feeling. To her, it made little sense, for the binary of good and bad, proper and poor, positive and negative all have their purpose and their meaning in the world. This, here with Cal, pushed the boundary of the world she was piecing together; of the world as she knew it. Here he was, admitting that things went better than planned for his expectations of the Doctor Alana Lysanger, yet he exhibited all the signs of being in a poor mood--cut off, in darkness, and brooding.

"Are you feeling well, Cal?"

That seemed to rouse the sour Captain with a smile. "I feel like la shi, Sam, lower than la shi."

"I don't understand."

"Welcome to the club, darlin'."