Now on Duty: Fax and Benna

Special of the Day: Benna's Type

"Heard we had a new recruit." Benna shakes hands with Fax, the new tender--tall, blond, bright-eyed, good-looking...and so not her type. "So how was life at the Net?"

His mouth quirked into a smile. "Like the rumors times ten. I am definitely enjoyin' my new work environment." He gives her a wink. "Even better now."

Benna frowns and hands off her electro-pad. "There's new chalks at the counter. Better start earning your pay."

"Leaving so soon?"

"Glasses to rack and inventory to count.,” she says over her shoulder as she walks away. “Think you can handle the counter for a few?"

"'S’what I live for."

#

Fax watches Benna disappear through the swingers into the kitchen and return with a full tray of mugs.

"Worked here long?" Fax asks as he pulls a Billins for a drowsy Parolian female seated at the bar.

"Five spins."

"You're an old hand, then."

"I prefer to think of myself as well-seasoned but not over-fried."

Fax laughs.

Jool, the other duty tender, comes back from a table with an empty tray. "Hey Benna, seen the new delivery guy yet?"

"No. Why?"

"'Cause if you had, you'd be bringing him up in conversation. He's definitely your type."

"I have a type?"

"You know you do. Everyone knows you do."

Benna shrugs.

"Oh, yeah? What's your type?" Fax asks.

She shakes her head and walks away. Jool hipchecks Fax. "Tall, dark and mysterious. Except they don't have to be tall. Or dark."

Fax glances toward Benna. "Hm. She likes a mystery man, huh?"

"Now take that new delivery guy, Sair," Jool says, rearranging the fruit garnishes. "Maybe Rathskian, maybe not. No kensmarcs, you know? Not a scar on him. He's got the looks that would make him a premium gig...but he's deliverin' ale. And he wears those sunshades even indoors.”

"Sounds like he's hidin' somethin’."

"Maybe. It puts him in that questionable category. Benna loves that stuff."

Fax scowls.

“Oh and just for the record,” Jool adds, “Sair’s got that tall and dark thing going on to the T, too.”

“Yeah, prolly big T as in big trouble,” Fax grumbles.

“The more trouble, the better, s’far as Benna’s concerned,” Jool says. “You kinda like her, doncha?”

Fax purses his lips. “Too soon to tell.”

Jool just smiles. “Whatever you say.”

The house ale seems to be reanimating the formerly zombified Parolian sitting at the bar. She snaps her fingers to get Fax’s attention. “Hey, tender. Come down here and talk to me.”

“Might want to heed that,” Jool whispers. “She’s a great tipper when she’s in a good mood.”

Fax puts on a grin and saunters her way.

“What’s the latest, doll boy?” the Parolian purrs and flashes him an orange-fanged smile.

“Not a lot of news, of late. But I did hear The Galaxy Express had a coupla entertaining topics: Bug-Eyed Monsters in Love and Counselor Troi Must Die.”

“Fascinating.” She gives him a sly wink. “Got anything a bit sexier for a workin’ girl?”

“Just might.” Fax gives her his best conspiring tender smile. “The folks at io9 tap into Authors Who Put the Sex in their Science Fiction.”

“Now you’re talkin’. In my line of work, I have to keep up with the competition.”

Fax nods. "Refill?"

"Not before me shift." She slithers off her bar stool and adjusts her scanty outfit. "Just crank this up ta my house tab, and I'll be back in a coupla' days to settle." She pauses to lean across the bar toward Fax. "Oh, an' a lil bonus tip for ya, doll face. You want to get Benna's attention, don't act so interested in 'er. Take it from an expert."

She gives a saucy wink as she heads toward the exit.