Happy Hour, Part II
Posted on Thu Oct 30th, 2025 @ 12:44pm by Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal & Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Edited on on Sun Nov 2nd, 2025 @ 11:18am
1,756 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Cold Cases
Location: JAG Office, Starbase 315
Timeline: 2386
Rising from his desk, his eyes caught Layal’s for the briefest of moments. Her dark brown gaze seemed to carry a directness that could slice through an argument between drunks or lull an infant into calm, depending on how she aimed it. She stood tall, shoulders square, her frame quite lean. There was something tacitly magnetic in her form–hair pulled back, makeup minimal, no ornaments but her steely posture.
Ezra allowed himself to take notice, the way another man might observe the flames in a hearth on a cold night, and then, being but a gentleman, he tucked the thought away before it could find any legs.
Elroy’s was having a slow night. Old, and half-remembered music played through the jukebox system and the rhythm seemed to be more for easing the heart than stirring anyone’s feet. A few voices murmured at the edges of the room, the odd burst of laughter now and then mixing-in. The bar’s lights remained dim, polished brass fixtures that seemed to glow like embers in a firepit.
Carlos leaned against the bar with both elbows, his shoulders loose. He was grinning as he brought his story to a breathless end. “...and the Ferengi swears on his lobes that he sunk the cue ball on purpose, calls it a strategic withdrawal!” He slapped the counter, laughing so hard his glass rattled. The laugh carried just long enough to turn a few heads, then shrank back behind the music.
He lifted the glass, found it empty, turned it upside with a mock frown. “Ah. That’s my sign.” His grin softened as he turned toward Layal. “You–good night. Don’t let anyone talk you into convoy cases ever again.”
“One of these years I’ll have enough seniority to pick my cases,” she replied with an easy smile. “Until then, I’ll just try to look busy the next time one comes through. See ya later, Carlos. It was good catching up tonight.”
Layal let out a heavy sigh as she watched Carlos leave. The crowd was thinning, and while she had said she wouldn’t stay out late, she found herself not wanting to go back to her quarters. The camaraderie among her coworkers was comforting.
Layal noticed Ezra near the corner of the bar and picked up the glass of wine she’d been nursing for the last hour and walked over and took the seat next to him. “I’m surprised you’re still out. So what’s your story?” She asked.
Ezra looked up from his soda, the bubbles holding his attention. He shifted slightly, careful not to spill the drink, carefully following the warm voice to Corin Layal, one of the JAG officers he’d seen around the office in his three weeks since arriving on Starbase 315. She was one of only a handful of female attorneys there, and easily the youngest. Her voice was like a comfortable fire, tempered by a silent authority she always seemed to carry.
“My story?” he asked, letting his gaze linger for a moment on her profile before returning to his glass. He rolled his shoulders, his six-foot-five frame rippling slightly under his JAG uniform.
“Yeah, your story,” she prodded casually. “How did you end up out here? What do you hope to accomplish while you’re here? Favorite childhood pet? I dunno, whatever comes to mind.” She grinned at him encouragingly while she waited for his response.
He found himself at a loss for words. Not that he ever needed them as much as some people. But under her gaze, he felt as though a large stagelight had been positioned right over him. His brain shuffled through the memories of his life and he quickly decided what was safe to share with a colleague–a beautiful colleague.
“I was born on Pi Cygnus Three,” he said carefully, watching to see what Layal’s reaction might be. It wasn’t often someone had heard of the planet, but those who had, usually had a strong reaction. It was known for being one of Earth’s half-dozen early failed colonies and it was rare that a native made it offworld. “But I spent my formative years on Betazed. With my adoptive parents.”
Ezra cleared his throat, feeling a little embarrassed about speaking so freely of himself. He took a sip of his soda and continued. “I studied xenopsychology and sociology. Pre-law at Starfleet Academy.” He lifted his eyes to hers, feeling her deep brown eyes on him. “I never felt the call to practice law, so much as a need to understand it. I recently completed my MJ and was assigned here as a clerk.”
He lowered his eyes once more, as if looking at her too long might blind him.
“You must have been really busy at the Academy,” Layal replied, impressed with his varied credentials. “If you don’t want to practice law, why the Masters? What do you plan to do with all of your training?”
She asked him with genuine curiosity. She’d never impose her profession on anyone else, but she hadn’t met anyone so young reaching for a Masters in Jurisprudence with no intent to practice.
Ezra felt slightly targeted by her question, but he knew it came from somewhere with good intentions.
“I don’t… I don’t really have a plan,” he said at last, his deep voice sounding careful. There was a faint blush along his cheeks, something he tried to hide behind a slow sip of soda. “The Masters felt necessary. I wanted to understand law, not just memorize it.” He shifted uncomfortably and pushed the nearly-empty glass of soda away.
“Law to me isn’t… an argument in a courtroom. It’s a way of seeing–what holds together, what falls apart, why some people choose to hurt each other. And why some don’t.” He shifted his gaze back to her briefly, cautiously. “For now, clerking is where I can start learning.”
Then his eyes slid back to the bar, as if staring too long into hers might make him admit more than he meant. “Maybe someday I’ll know what to do with it all. Right now, I’m just trying not to waste it.”
There was a long pause between them before he turned back to Layal. “How about you?”
“I guess I live a little for the fight,” Layal admitted. “I was going to go into security - that’s where I started at the Academy. Not that I was eager for a rumble or anything, but after the Occupation, I really wanted to be a part of something bigger than Bajor, if that makes sense. I sort of fell into lawyering at the urge of my professors.” She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she turned back to her drink. “It’s alright. Sometimes I feel like the cases can be a little dry, but occasionally I get something interesting.”
Ezra folded his hands over the piece of bar in front of him. He dared another glance at her. She had the kind of face that could laugh you out of a terrible day or stare you straight into honesty. “That sounds very noble,” he said finally.
“Noble?” Layal repeated the word, a hint of incredulousness in her voice. She shook her head. “I don’t understand. What did I say to make you say that?”
“You chose the fight,” he said simply, if a little sheepish. “You could have remained on Bajor or followed-through in security. But you didn’t.” He gave a slight shrug, his large shoulders moving and then settling. Quietly, he added, “That’s noble to me.”
“Interesting idea of nobility… I look at the guys in security, investigations, out on the front lines and think I took the easy road, hiding out in a courtroom,” Layal confessed. “Same with the people back home. They are the ones who are loyal to Bajor, rebuilding it. That is what is noble. Moreso than anything I’ve been doing anyway.”
“I… see ,” he murmured, not disagreeing and not agreeing. His shoulders slumped a little, acknowledging the conversation had run its course.
He made no attempt to continue the debate of nobility. Some things were meant to be felt, not dissected.
“So what were you working on tonight anyway?” Layal asked. “You seemed pretty engrossed when it was time to leave.”
Ezra absently ran a large finger along the edge of the bar. “It was just a charge sheet,” he said. “A non-comm had unauthorized access to secure records.”
“Your first one?” Layal asked.
He nodded. “Yes. It feels different than moot court. In school, you can stretch some language, play with it a little. This feels like every word matters.” He rubbed his thumb across the damp ring his glass had left on the counter. He looked up, meeting her gaze again. “What’s this convoy you were working on?”
“I wouldn’t overthink it too much,” Layal said with a shake of her head. “I’m sure it’s fine. As long as it’s coherent and follows the law, no one is going to be judging you for your wordsmithing. Now, when you get asked to do a brief… that's where the real fun comes.” Layal gave Ezra a playful wink.
“The convoy was nothing really. Mostly tax evasion, business regulation sort of stuff. Pretty dry, but so much paperwork,” Layal explained. “A pain more than anything. Not a case that you or I would be all that offended by, just a bunch of moving goods without a license, nothing sexy about it. But the Federation loves its rules, and there’s always this fear that if we don’t put the hammer down on the small stuff, then we’ll get rolled over on the big stuff.”
A Joint Post by
Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal
Judge Advocate General, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Victim Advocate Counselor, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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