"About two shakes of a targ's tail," Ress said, looking at him before they tilted their head, as if deciding which version of the answer was likely to cause the least trouble. They gathered what they needed from the shelves with easy familiarity: Mars mezcal, Bajoran honey nectar, Andorian bitters, and a strip of peel from a fruit local to an M-class planet not far from here, one they had discovered carried an almost oak-cask aftertaste if cut thin enough.
They measured by eye, the movement all lazy precision, then glanced back at him. "I'm Ress. And the Captain and I...came up with something that worked for both of us." Their mouth curved as they stirred. "Zedd negotiates like a man who knows the price of everything except peace and quiet, but he was fair enough."
"That is absolutely true. He does talk a lot at times. I wonder if it's just part of his background, or having to deal with the Ferengi and everything down on the planet below. It's good to meet you Ress."
He waitied until the drink was placed before him and looked at it for a moment. He picked it up and raised it "Cheers". Taking a sip, Cormus allowed it to linger a moment before swallowing. It was smooth for sure, with undertones of a sweet woodiness, it tasted great. "I'll take seven more" he said, half serious. "I'm not a fan of synthetic stuff so as long as these keep coming, I keep paying."
Ress smiled as they watched him, giving a small nod as they wiped the counter. "I also have a few bottles of blended Scotch, for when you just want to...nurse it," they volunteered, setting the cloth aside as their mouth curved. "Though I’m not offended if you keep paying me to show off." Their eyes moved over him again, taking in the jacket, the grease, the hands, the easy way he had tested the drink before committing to liking it. Young, yes, but not careless from what they could see. They approved. "You're Fletcher," they said, not making it a question. "The pilot." There was no trick to it, not really. Some information was easy to come by, and Ress considered knowing who flew the ship less a curiosity than basic survival.
"Lead for the Shuttle Bay and support craft, yes. I spent a few days on the helm and practicing but the ship is just too much for me at the time. Lindsy Vaelor is our helmsman for the time being. She deserves it though, I've never seen someone map routes like her. But when it comes to smaller craft, I'm all over it." He took another sip of his drink and continued to appreciate it. "You do any piloting in your time so far?"
They chuckled, shaking their head as they looked at him. "Briefly, badly. I prefer having an actual expert get me from A to B," they said openly, considering him for a moment as they committed what Fletcher had said to memory. Vaelor’s name was useful, but the praise was better. People told you a great deal by the way they spoke about competence. Ress reached for the cloth again, wiping a small ring of condensation from the counter. "So is it the control in a smaller vessel you like, or the...responsiveness?" they asked, voice warm with mischief rather than mockery.
"A bit of both to be honest. Let me tell you, there's nothing like coming in red hot, slamming the brakes and landing, watching a combat squad disperse, and then punch it to get away. Done a number of those myself, hot drops are always a rush. And working for private contractors it's alot more fun that working for Star Fleet." He took another sip and thought for a moment about his past assignments and the experience he had gotten over the last year or so. Plus the latinum was a good motivator, but he was looking at the potential for his largest scores ever with Zedd.
"So aside from bartending, what else do you run on the side?" The young man knew everyone had their own game and hustles in their own right.
"Ah..." Ress gave a small nod, fixing their eyes on him for a moment before their mouth curved. "Information, mostly. Finding it, carrying it, knowing who wants it badly enough to pay before they ask too loudly." They reached for a clean glass and filled it with water rather than anything stronger, taking a sip as if this were all perfectly ordinary bar conversation. "And before you worry, shipboard information is not inventory. I work here now. That makes a difference." Their fingers turned the glass slowly against the counter. "But if there is something you need found, or someone you need checked, I can usually make a few quiet enquiries. For a price, obviously. Alchemy is charming, but it does not pay docking fees." They glanced toward the room rather than the door, the smile still there but thinner at the edges. "Being on a ship suits me. Stations stay still too long. Ships move. That is healthier for everyone involved. Sometimes I carry information caches between brokers, but that has to be done in person. We are a private bunch, and most of us are allergic to trust."