When they arrived at the club after a leisurely, mostly-quiet walk Leo and Data found it fairly well populated with several dozen cadets who were recovering from their days' exams.

"See any of your fellow seminar-goers, Data?" Leo asked as she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The Neutral Zone bar was just that, a place where Academy cadets at all levels could get together, relax, challenge each other to a boggling variety of simulations and games in the club's several hologame rooms, and generally decompress from the rigors of the Academy. Tonight most of them seemed to be gathered at the various bars and tables either celebrating their exam results or commiserating over them. Without exception they bitched and moaned, just like in Leo's past life, about instructors and the exams themselves.

"I do not believe the seminar attendees are permitted to attend this establishment," Data told her. "There is a suite of rooms reserved as a lounge and socializing space for us."

"Well not for us," she corrected him as she looked toward the bar. "What are you drinking?" Leo caught herself just before Data could reply. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you're an android." Data greeted her 'apology' with a pleased expression.

"I believe that is the 'nicest thing anyone has said to me today'." He made it obvious he was quoting a popular colloquial expression for her amusement.

"Well the day ain't over yet. Stay right here, I'll be right back." Data stood still as stone. She had to remember to frame her language a little more carefully, she thought as she wove her way through the crowd. He took things so literally. When she made it to the bar she beckoned one of the android bartenders she knew as Jack. Boothby had introduced them. Jack was the secret keeper of Boothby's stash of rare vintage booze… "the real thing, mind you, none of that stomach-turning synthehol"… and had been instructed to serve it to Leo (and a select number of others) whenever she requested. Since synthehol could be made to imitate any drink at all and the aroma was identical, nobody was the wiser as long as Leo guarded her glass with her life. Which she did.

Now she leaned across the bar and smiled at the platinum-haired male as he greeted her, "Welcome, Leo. May I inquire after your examination results?"

"Passed, and passed! And I am celebrating tonight with a friend… he's not drinking but I am."

Jack accessed his Boston bartender voice: "What'll it be sweethaht?"

"Make it a Jack, Jack. The good stuff. Rocks and a twist."

"Like we did last summah," he shot back as he reached into a locked cubbyhole and pulled out a generic looking bottle, pouring a generous measure over ice and dropping in a twist of lemon peel. "Consume it in good health," he added in his regular voice as he handed it to her, "and accept my congratulations on your successful examination."

When she'd returned to where she left Data he was still standing as if nailed to the spot, but engaged in conversation with one of her warp tech classmates. Jalen Kindrick, a human, came to the Academy from the Mars colony and was set to concentrate in stellar cartography. Of all the cadets Leo had met she was probably the least intrusive, having exhausted a rather limited repertoire of the predictable questions early in their acquaintance and shifting rapidly to the issue of surviving the class they took together. Their age difference and Jalen's predilection for hanging out in crowded clubs in her down time was something of a barrier to forming a real social connection. At the end of the day Leo wanted nothing more than to take refuge in her quarters away from the seemingly endless masses of curious people (though she admitted that exaggeration was a function of her weary annoyance) who seemed to surround her every day. Jalen had once observed drily, "You'd think on a campus of 150 distinct species from a dozen star systems one single human time jumper wouldn't attract much attention." Leo liked her; though only 22 years old she was smart and had a nice practical outlook on things. Jalen was chatting amiably with Data as Leo returned from the bar.

"Jalen! How did you do today?" Jalen breathed high level mathematics, though Leo had given her some help with her history studies.

"7.2 of 10, and 12 of 12. Just squeaked by on the history," she wrapped a friendly arm around Leo's shoulder and declared to Data, "But I wouldn't have squeaked at all if Ollie here hadn't worked me to the bone."

"Ollie?" Data cocked his head and looked at Leo.

"Nickname Boothby gave me. Ollie, O.L., Old Lady. Born in the 20th century. Get it?"

"Ah. Smartass."

Jalen cracked up. "An android with a sense of humor? I love it! Most of these staff guys on campus are real stiffs."

"I believe one may be influenced by the company one keeps," Data deadpanned, and Leo swore he was about to wink. He didn't. He didn't have to, really.

Jalen swung around on Leo with an accusatory glare, "And why didn't you tell me you were consorting with celebrities? Commander Data of the USS Enterprise D is tutoring you, and you don't breathe a word? Now I know why you turned me down."

Leo felt a little caught out as Data looked at her questioningly. "Jalen, I only met Data yesterday. And I figured you had your hands full with warp history and stellar exploration history. Besides," she added, supremely sheepish, "I didn't know who he was."

Jalen shook her head, "Hopeless, she is hopeless. It's like her being back where she came from and not hearing of Elvis or something."

"Well there is no need to get all shook up," Data advised, still expressionless.

Leo threw back her head, and half her drink, and widened her eyes in horror. "Oh, brother, who taught you that?"

Data fashioned a proud near-smirk, "My crew mates on the Enterprise have schooled me in the history, structure, and application of humor."

"That's not humor, Data..." she muttered as Jalen laughed loudly again.

"My apologies, Leo. I am aware that the genre of puns is not to everyone's liking."

"Well my taste runs more to,"

"Smartass." he finished for her.

The music had become a bit louder as more cadets poured into the bar. "Hey Data, do you dance?" Jalen asked as she took his arm.

Data looked at Leo and demurred, "Thank you Jalen, but I have reserved a celebratory first dance for Leo. There is a colloquial expression used in the 20th century United States that suggests one should 'dance with the one that you brung.' "

"Smartass," Jalen commented, and jerked her thumb at Data while cocking an eyebrow at Leo. "Well you guys have fun, and maybe you can squeeze me into your schedule later, huh?" She ran off to join some friends in a far corner as Leo told Data, "Hang on a minute… you can move around, really, but I'm gonna talk to the music programmer for a minute." Ever compliant, Data shifted from one foot to the other in time to the hard-edged techno-pulse music that was playing. By the time she returned several people were eying him a bit oddly.

"Glenn Miller, coming up."

Data looked concerned as Leo pulled him toward the dance floor. "I did not mean to offend your friend. Shall I find her and apologize?" Leo was shaking her head no, but he was looking over his shoulder for Jalen and didn't notice. "I sometimes forget that there are parameters for interaction that apply to those whose acquaintance I have already made, and those I have only just met. Do you suppose she was aware that certain of my appropriate social subroutines are still in development?"

They'd gotten to the middle of the dance floor, which had mostly cleared when the sharp-edged music faded. "Data, I have another 20th century colloquialism for you," she told him as she pulled him around to face her.

"What is that?"

"Shut up and dance."

As the opening bars of Moonlight Serenade flowed like honey out of the club's sound system, a light of recognition lit Data's face, and he took Leo in his arms in dance position and began to move them smoothly around the floor. That is, he tried to. Somehow Leo hadn't expected being required to dance-dance, as in Arthur Murray. She expected the usual holding each other and shuffling to the music that she'd always known as "slow dancing". After stepping on Data's feet two or three times it had become more of a vertical wrestling match than a dance. Data stopped them both and looked down at Leo in mild consternation. "It is the male's responsibility to lead, and the lady's place to follow the steps."

"Uh, I guess I never really learned that. I mean, I didn't know you could actually dance."

"I have augmented my social subroutines with a complete array of ballroom dance steps. If you wish, I will teach you." He led her slowly through a simple fox trot step, which after a few minutes she managed to force into her feet via her brain. A few of her fellow cadets were watching them with some curiosity, as one or two couples indulged in the shuffle-and-grope that never seemed to go out of style. Leo was beginning to think this had been a lousy idea… she felt like a true spaz.

"Data I'm sorry, I guess I'm not very good at the real thing."

"On the contrary, you have picked up the steps very quickly. Now simply follow me," he began to dance more smoothly again, and though she was keeping up somewhat better still Leo protested, "Really, you don't have to, we can just sit and talk…"

Data interjected patiently, "Leora?"

His use of her full name gave her pause. "Yeah?"

"Shut up and dance."

She managed to relax and follow as he quietly encouraged her now and then with directions like "Sidestep-sidestep, back slow-back slow, very good Leo, you learn very quickly. It took me much longer with Dr. Crusher's assistance." He held her with an ease and sureness that contrasted with his often tentative conversation. Here he was the teacher, she realized, and she was the one out of her element. It was nice in a way, to see how he could be when he wasn't measuring himself against the possible need to explain. His left hand was closed around her right. She liked the way his thumb felt pressed into her palm, his other hand warm in the small of her back to guide her. She also found she liked not wondering when he'd try and cop a feel. No matter how not-model-calibre she knew herself to be, plenty of guys would cop a feel from the ugliest woman alive if they had half a chance. By the time the last clarinet notes tapered off into silence, Leo was moving as gracefully with Data as if they'd been dance partners for years. Well a day or two, anyway.

She'd requested several recordings by Glenn Miller, assuming they'd sit down after one dance and simply enjoy the music. A surprising number of cadets and their guests had joined them on the dance floor, perhaps relieved to find some calmer respite from the hyper-excited music that was typically piped into the room. Leo stepped away from Data as Stormy Weather began, but he pulled her back into his arms saying, "Do not stop now. You must practice to master the dance." If she'd pressed him, he'd have told her though it had not been a long time since he had danced to Glenn Miller, dancing with a living partner was much more satisfying than doing so with a holodeck-created one. He was intrigued by the unpredictability of human movement, the challenges of compensation in balance and coordination that simply didn't exist when the woman in his arms was guaranteed digitally to match his every move because he had programmed her himself. And this was the first time he had partnered with a novice, which made the diversion even more enjoyable. In fact everything about this new acquaintance was thoroughly enjoyable. That he would be leaving the Academy when his seminar ended didn't occur to Data in any serious way; he was so much a part of the 24th century and technology itself that he considered the possibility of continued communication and connection to be a given regardless of geospatial proximity.

"Okay." Leo felt absurdly shy all of a sudden. Since they'd met she'd had the upper hand, if there'd been one to have, in terms of their personal interaction. Him teaching her the math logic was different, when he was sharing his knowledge for a practical purpose. He was doing this for her, to teach her something she could have fun with, and to celebrate her achievement. She'd been on her own for so long, even before coming here, she'd forgotten what it was like. She'd become accustomed to congenial parallel lines, and sensed Data was drawing her to a point of intersection. She wondered if he were aware of it, and what if anything it meant to him. What it meant to her was that she felt a niggling uneasiness, not wanting to get too attached to him when, after all, their unexpectedly converging paths would diverge again in two weeks. She cared much less about his being an android than she did his being a transient visitor here.

Their thoughts remained unspoken, and before long Leo's face was touching Data's shoulder, his cheek against her hair. This time when the song finished Leo insisted on finding a table. "I shouldn't have slammed that drink like I did," she admitted. "I'm a little spacey."

When they'd found a couple of empty seats by a corner table Data said, "I see you have found a source for alcoholic beverages, in addition to your other 21st century conventions."

Leo shushed him, looking around to see if anyone had heard. "Ssh, do you wanna get Jack busted? He and Boothby are a two-man speakeasy, and don't think that I'm the only member. No harm done, really, nobody over indulges. It's just that for me anyway I need a hard dose of real now and then to counteract the inescapable synthetics of this century." The animation left Data's expression. "Oh no, Data, no, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean you, I told you already I have a hard time remembering you're an android, didn't I?" She gripped his hand for emphasis, and he looked down at their hands where they joined at the center of the table.

"Do not be concerned," he told her, "I am aware of your meaning. Though it may be hard for you to believe, I, too, sometimes long for 'a dose of real'. But I do not know where to find it, or what I might do with it if I did."

She ducked her head to look him in the eye. "You're doing it already." His calm gaze rested on hers and it felt like he was looking straight into her. After a moment he touched the corner of her eye with a fingertip, as light as a butterfly's wing it seemed to Leo.

"You are tired. We have celebrated your success. Perhaps it is time for you to go home now."

Out of nowhere Leo was washed under a wave of sadness. "I would, if I just knew where it was." The pale face opposite hers displayed a perfect fusion of empathy and encouragement.

"You will make one, Leora Eileen, as I have."

Leo leaned forward enough to touch her forehead lightly to Data's. "Why oh why do I believe you, I don't even know you."

"Yes, you do." He didn't know why he said that, only that it seemed somehow appropriate. Leo sat up, and the moment dispelled in the returning throb of activity that surrounded them.

"Yeah let's call it a night."

As they walked to the transporter pad (still early enough to be operating thank god - Leo was too beat to walk all the way back to her quarters) Data noted waggishly, "Very well. It is a night."

"I told you, that's not humor," Leo returned flatly

"When you meet my friends, you may inform them of their error." Data's deadpan rejoinder was dispersed in the glitter of their dematerialization.