Ress tilted their head, their arms lowering slowly until their hands rested on the bar, courteous enough to show they were not armed in any immediate sense. A small smile touched their mouth, and the brow over their non-cybernetic eye rose just a little. So. Not thirsty, then. Or at least not for anything Ress kept in bottles. “Depends what you mean, Tiraa Shai,” they said, voice almost throaty, warm on the surface and dry underneath. “I’ve been a lot of places. People usually only mention the last one when they want me to know they’ve been asking questions.” Their smile widened by the smallest amount as they glanced at the bottles behind them. “So either you want a drink, or you want to tell me which answer you already bought.”
“Surely it can be both, can’t it?” Tiraa posed the question with a mild smirk on her lips. Her body language didn’t communicate hostility, but there was an understandable wariness at the unknowns Ress posed. People like Tiraa didn’t enjoy unknowns orbiting so close to them.
Ress studied her for a moment before they gave a smile. It was sharp but charming, warm the way fire could be warm if someone had already decided they did not mind being burned. “Then let me make you something on the house,” they said, reaching for a glass. They packed it with ice first, then moved to the bottles with the easy confidence of someone choosing a weapon they happened to serve chilled. A glance at Tiraa confirmed the instinct. Sweet start. Sharp finish. Strong enough to be worth respecting, but polished enough not to shout about it. They tipped the ice out of the now cooled glass, meeting her eyes briefly.
They poured Karemman spice-liquor first, amber and thick enough to catch the light, then added a measure of clear Saurian gin, a thread of Bajoran honey-bitters and two drops from a small black bottle that had no label at all. The scent rose slowly, fruit and pepper and something floral underneath, pretty until it remembered to be dangerous. Ress stirred rather than shook it, then strained it into the glass and finished it with a small globe of ice with a golden pattern inside and twist of preserved shalka peel that curled pale green against the rim.
They set it down in front of Tiraa with a small flourish, good natured enough, professional enough and with a small hint of pride in what they were doing. “That takes care of the first part,” Ress said, one eyebrow lifting slightly over their non-cybernetic eye. “Now we can see about the second.”
Tiraa watched Ress as they went through the motions of their art. She wasn't watching like some bored, impatient patron who only waited for the end result, instead she watched with the interest of someone watching a performance being put on just for them. Her black eyes tracked the movement of their hands with the ease of someone who most certainly had not spent their life wrapped in fine silk dresses. There was nothing hostile or aggressive in her observation, it truly did appear to simply be genuine appreciation. When they put the drink down in front of her, she took a second to just watch it settle before she finally picked it up and took a sip. The flavors washed over her tongue; the pleasant bite of the fruit and alcohol came first, then came the expected burn enhanced by the peppery spirit that had been added in - it teased the border of being too much, but faded at the last moment to the pleasant floral finish.
She sighed against the rim of the glass, then slowly lowered it back down to the bar. "You're very talented in your craft, Ress."
Ress inclined their head before they looked at her, studying her for a moment longer. “One must always keep one’s talents sharp,” they said with a small smile, taking a cloth to wipe away any condensation or spilled drops from the bar. “The compliment goes a long way, though.” Their hands moved neatly, almost idly, but their attention never quite left Tiraa. “And let us see about the second thing,” Ress said, their eyebrow rising slightly over their non-cybernetic eye. “You walked in here with the aura of an empress about to tear her parliament apart, and I suspect this is not only about the drinks menu.”
"I assure you if I was an empress, there would be no parliament to speak of," she grinned, "so in a sense I suppose you aren't wrong." She didn't address Ress' prompt to move on to the topic at hand, and instead took another patient sip of the drink in her hand.