(Ladies, gentlemen, members of the Continuum of all shapes and sizes, please do forgive my absurdly long, depression-fuelled hiatus; I’m doing much better now, so I hope you’ll all accept a lovely piece of Christmas fluff for your reading pleasure as my apology! I shall get to responding to anything I haven’t yet over the next few days, but basically, we’re back, and I’ve had far too much gin and chocolate on this frankly lovely day - bring on the madness, mes amis, and compliments of the season! <3 #celestialout)
(P.S. Oh, and @q-card - not quite the drabble I’m promising for new year, but perhaps the next best thing? xD)
Picard: Will, you were exceptional today. Your diplomatic prowess is a credit to this ship, and to Starfleet.
Riker: Coming from the undisputed king of this sort of thing, Captain, that’s truly high praise.
Picard: Oh, well, I have been known to be good with words, Number One.
Riker: That you have, sir. Still, no potential shirking intended, but I’d rather sleep for a solid eight hours than ever consider co-chairing an inter-species conference again.
Picard: Between you and I, I couldn’t agree more. I think we both deserve an evening of full relaxation, frankly. A glass of the family vintage may even be in order!
Riker: Captain’s orders, I hope?
Picard: Make it so, only do try and ensure you’re sufficiently alive in the morning...
Riker: I’ll take it under consideration, Captain. I want you to know that I’m absolutely not about to leave you at your quarters and request a single drop of Guinan’s secret stash. I wouldn’t be so irresponsible.
Picard: Well, of course you wouldn’t.
Riker: Glad we understand one another, sir. Night!
Picard: Enjoy yourself, Commander, and thank you. I for one am prepared to have a very much quieter affair. No distractions, hopefully. A little reading, perhaps some ambient lighting -
Riker: Stretching the definition of ‘ambient’ a little there, Captain... and is that a tree? Where in the quadrant did you get -
Picard: I... Number One, what’s the stardate?
Riker: 48634.44, I think - it’s been a long few days -
Riker: Is everything alright, sir?
Picard: Completely, Number One. Don’t let me delay your free time any further. I’ll see you in the morning.
Riker: Are you sure you’re -
Picard: Yes, perfect - do enjoy, that’s an order. Goodnight!
Picard: ... Q, what in fresh hell have you done?
Q: ... Oh, has he finally gone? Thank me, truly... and you ought to be aware, my dear! You’re quite the historian, for a linear mortal anyway.
Picard: 48634.44 - 2372, of course, but also December 25th, known to my distant ancestors as -
Q: Christmas! A wonderful time of the standardised Federation year, Jean-Luc! Humans don’t much bother with holidays nowadays, of course - you’re all far too preoccupied with advancing and measuring and diplomacy, as though such things ultimately count. Frankly, I feel you should all lighten up; your family’s wine is quite the treasure, but have you considered adding spices to it, perhaps a little heat? Mulled wine, darling - the greatest tradition of them all.
Picard: Q, I... it’s been a very, very trying few days, as you know -
Q: Well, yes, hence this. You and I, tasteful decorations - slightly too tasteful, in my opinion, but I’m deferring to you, mon capitaine - cinnamon buns, which I haven’t indulged in just yet but are already threatening to overtake almond croissants in my heart, spiced wine, a genuine fireplace... gifts! I have a gift for you, Jean-Luc. You’re going to love it.
Picard: ... You didn’t have to do this, Q. I’d be perfectly fine with catching up on some sleep, and perhaps enjoying a lazy embrace or two -
Q: I don’t ever have to do anything, dear - I’m omnipotent, an authority unto myself. I simply wanted to. Traditionally, Christmas is a time for family... for home. You are mine; I am yours, I hope. Felt appropriate. I can snap it away, of course, if you -
Picard: Don’t you dare. And yes, you are. Thank you, mon dieu, for everything. This is... cathartic.
Q: I... I am. That’s... I truly... you couldn’t possibly understand... wine. We were going to drink mulled wine. And buns! Yes, wonderful -
Picard: I seem to have developed a habit of overwhelming you, recently.
Q: ... I can learn to live with such things, darling. There’s a spiral galaxy in the Theta quadrant, though, that may be in trouble. I’ll fix it momentarily. Just... give me a second.
Picard: I would greatly appreciate that, Q. So this is... warm wine? A fascinating concept...
Q: Yes, with spices, cloves, other such delights - oh, stop talking. I’m going to kiss you now, Jean-Luc.
Picard: Thank the stars for that.
Picard: Mm, indeed. Indulge me, Q - do you have a new favourite pastry?
Q: ... I may interchange our breakfasts, once in a while.
Picard: ... Dear lord. I didn’t think it was even plausible.
Q: Well, I do so hate to be predictable, Jean-Luc. I imagine you taste of cinnamon, now...
Picard: ... Well, we are a scientific vessel. It would be something of a crime if we didn’t test such things.
Q: Hush, you handsome thing you...
Q: ... Gifts, dammit, before you distract me any further!
Picard: Oh, because of course I’m the distracting one here.
Q: You have no idea, Jean-Luc. Beneath the tree, that’s how you all used to do it. A present, meant to indicate your affection towards another - the grandest tradition of them all, wine aside.
Picard: That’s very kind, Q, but I haven’t -
Q: You can replicate me something later, man - get on with it! Honestly, this is worse than that time you were twelve - model starship, really? You’re a walking cliché, dear.
Picard: ... What? You did not -
Q: Oh no, couldn’t possibly have, of course. It was certainly your dinosaur of a father who thought that was a superlative birthday gift.
Picard: I... did you ever do anything else -
Q: No no, I know how deeply you value your infernal linearity - do hurry up!
Picard: Alright, alright... is this earl grey, Q?
Q: That is not simply earl grey, Captain. That’s the finest of earl grey. I should know - I’ve been cultivating the bergamot for the past month, in a rather despicably mortal manner I may add. It may have a slight aroma of deep space; don’t be alarmed, it creates a divine flavour profile. I fully guarantee it shall have no negative effect on the operation of the ship, unless you happen to take it anywhere near the warp core.
Picard: ... I’ll take full heed of that, yes... this is incredibly thoughtful, Q. And there’s this, too... it’s a box. A small box.
Q: Well observed, darling. You’re good at this...
Picard: ... And it appears to be velvet.
Picard: ... And it seems suspiciously as though it may fit a ring -
Q: Ah, no. Not in my entire immortality, dear. Far too human, worry not.
Picard: ... Thank heavens.
Q: Quite. You’re not a million light years away, however...
Picard: ... Q, what is this?
Q: Super-condensed nebula. Unbreakable glass, naturally - can’t have you destroying the local galaxy if you happen to take a tumble. And no, I haven’t stolen a phenomena for the aesthetic gravitas, however in character that might be - I made the thing specifically for this.
Picard: It’s... Q, this is spectacular...
Q: Darling, at considerable risk of being entirely too saccharine, the universe, all its infinite majesty, has been my only sanctuary for millions of years. It would have been rather an oversight not to transfer a fraction of the honour to my new one.
Picard: Q, I... may be about to be incredibly distracting, my dear.
Picard: No hope required, I assure you, but... you’ve given me a piece of space, Q, and I haven’t gotten you a single thing.
Q: Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, Jean-Luc. You’re here, aren’t you? As though I need anything else.
Picard: ... We may never recover from this distraction, you know. I trust you’ll rectify time eventually?
