SeverusSnape'sLove-Yay! So glad to hear it! I'll definitely keep updating regularly. Thanks for following along! :-)

Zara08-Hahaha, your reviews are always the best! :-p

As Carmen picked up the empty glass, the revelry died down. All around her, she could feel the mood change. Some gaped at her with curiosity. Others were far more aloof. And a few-especially the one with shoulder length dark hair-had much more lewd thoughts upon sight of the young woman. He sidled up to her, standing uncomfortably close. "The name's Davar," he grinned. "And who might you be?"

"I'm...taking his place," she said, jerking her head towards his unconscious companion.

"You're-?" He laughed incredulously. "You know this isn't murberry juice, right?"

A few snickers drifted up around them. But a cold smile crept across Carmen's face. "Was that supposed to be clever? Because I haven't had enough to drink yet to find you very amusing. Or good-looking."

The snickering from his friends exploded into jeers of laughter. The young man's lips all but disappeared as he pursed them together tightly.

"Now come on," Carmen said, banging the empty glass against the table as if it were a gavel. "Let's get on with this. There's hope for you yet."

Both of their cups were filled with a round of cheers. As a mousy-looking man balanced a coin atop the table, the others began to chant. "Glugg! Glugg! Glugg!" A flick of his finger and the coin danced away, spinning so fast that it turned into a golden blur.

Carmen tilted her head back. Hello old friend, she thought as the familiar burn reached her throat. Despite the pungent smell, it tasted sweet and syrupy. A couple of streams ran down the sides of her face and to the floor. The chanting grew louder, quickening as the coin began to lose momentum. She gulped and gulped until it felt as though she would drown. At last, the final drop slid onto her tongue.

"Done!" she declared, slamming her glass onto the table. Her competitor finished a second behind, just as the coin fell flat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered.

"Looks like a draw."

"I finished first," she pointed out. Then, quite suddenly, her knees turned to rubber. She reached for the edge of the table and gripped it tightly. That's some strong stuff. Either that or my tolerance isn't what it used to be.

"What's the matter? A little dizzy?" Davar taunted.

"I was wrong…" Carmen pushed off of the table, trying her best to straighten up. "You're actually less amusing after a drink. And a whole lot uglier."

His face ruddied furiously. "Rematch!" he roared. Then he jabbed a finger at her chest. "I bet you won't even be standing by the time that coin falls."

She patted his cheek with a drunken smile. "Watch me."

The crowd murmured eagerly, pressing in closer around them. A pitcher passed from hand to hand until it reached the man on Carmen's left. She held out her glass, but as she did so, someone pulled her arm back down.

"Come on," Tarron urged. "Let's get you back inside."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "One more round, that's it."

Davar came around, wedging himself between the two. "Tarron? Is that you?"

Tarron moved back a step. "I don't want any trouble, Davar," he said. "I'm just trying to get her back to her family."

"She's perfectly fine!" Davar waved his hand. "Now why don't you get back to your family. How many brothers do you have again? Ten? Twenty?" He turned to their audience. "His parents breed like vermin, this one."

The crowd hooted and hollered. Tarron's jaw clenched, but he remained silent and in control. So Davar tried again.

"Wait a minute-you have a sister too, don't you? What was her name again?"

Carmen seethed, loathe to hear him bring up the young girl. Tarron's cheeks began to color with the same protective anger. "Don't you talk about Jora," he growled.

Davar grinned, delighted by their reactions. He had found the right button to push. "Jora, yeah. She's a real wild one, isn't she? I heard your mother's been having difficulty taming her."

Carmen wanted to knock that smirk right off his face. But even through the alcoholic fog in her mind, she remembered her promise to Troi. The threat of the counselor's disappointment in her was enough to stay her fists. "Let's go, Tarron," she said, shouldering Davar out of the way. "He's not worth it."

"Don't worry about Jora," Davar called as they began to walk away. "Another couple of years, and I'll make a woman out of her."

Tarron halted. A blaze of anger burned into Carmen's senses. Before she could stop him, he spun around and charged at the smug young man. Catching him around the middle, he sent them both hurtling to the ground.

"And that's when I decided never to wear yellow again." The old man with a bald, sun-speckled head clanged his spoon against the side of his plate, tolling the end of his tale. Riker stifled a yawn, weary of the man's company.

"That's-that's very interesting, Mr. Camus, but I-"

"Your wife sure is a beauty. How did you manage that, eh?" He chuckled (or maybe coughed, Riker couldn't quite tell) and nudged the commander in the ribs. "I had to ask my wife fourteen times before she'd marry me. Bless her soul. 'Camus,' she used to say. 'You're as ugly as a Grolese in molting season.'"

"Yes, well I think it's time we-"

"Say, that reminds me-that feller in here yesterday was asking about the Grolese. You probably ain't seen nothing like it, being from Ebon Plains. You did say Ebon Plains, right?"

Riker paused. "What uh, feller?"

"He didn't want to talk at first, but that old bird seemed to change his mind. And by 'old bird' I mean the Grolese, not me." He slapped the commander's shoulder and made a wheezing sound. Riker was certain this time that it was supposed to be a laugh.

Troi giggled, pretending to be charmed by his sense of humor. "Oh, Mr. Camus. You sure know how to make someone laugh. Could you tell me more about the Grolese? I've never seen one before."

His smile reached all the way up to his eyes. "There only is one. Been here since I was a boy. Since my grandpapa was a boy, even. No one really knows how old he is. But you'll have to come back in a few months if you were hoping to see him."

"Why's that?"

"He sleeps all summer long. Way up on that ridge out there. Me and my brother, we used to dare each other to climb up and find his nest. But we was always too scared."

"Why would you be scared of an old bird?" Riker asked.

"If you saw him, you'd know. He's a big feller. Big as a-"

He was interrupted by some kind of ruckus. Belligerent shouting filled the air as a brawl made its way in from the patio. Riker and Troi exchanged a glance. "That's it," the commander muttered, climbing out of his seat. "When we get back, she's grounded for a month."

As Tarron and Davar exchanged blows, the crowd surged around them. They whooped and hollered, lusting for violence. Carmen found herself being pushed aside in all the chaos. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to leap into the fray. Besides her promise to Troi, she knew that they didn't want anyone questioning where a young lady learned to fight like that.

At least Tarron was faring well for himself, she noticed. He had Davar flattened onto his back and was doling out blow after blow of sweet justice. Then one of Davar's cronies turned the tide. He picked up a chair and brought it crashing down over Tarron's head.

"Tarron!" The young man's friends, who had been watching everything unfold from the card table, leapt up and went rushing to his defense. An all-out brawl ensued.

Carmen groaned inwardly. I'm going to get blamed for this, I just know it. She started to shove her way through the horde, making it back to where she had left Riker and Troi.

She hadn't made it very far when someone grabbed her around the waist. "Not so fast, lady!" they jeered, throwing her up against the wall. It was a member of Davar's pack. His breath smelled of ale as he thrust his face next to hers. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt or anything. Why don't we go somewhere safer, somewhere a little more...private." He grinned at her suggestively while one of his hands strayed towards her skirt.

She snarled, enraged. But then, as she caught sight of something behind him, her lips pulled into a sly smile. "I'm sure he'd love to take you up on the offer."

"He?" the man repeated. Suddenly, he was yanked off his feet and thrown through the air. As soon as he landed, Riker was upon him again. Carmen watched his demise gleefully, though somewhere deep inside she felt a small pang of pity for the man. He didn't stand a chance against the raging tower of paternal wrath.

"Carmen!" Troi's call rang out over the violence.

She looked around and found the counselor standing near the bar, her face taut with worry. "Coming!" she cried, weaving her way through the mess best she could with knees that still felt like rubber.

Once Carmen was clear, Troi sighed with relief. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. And hey-I kept my promise! Can't say the same for dad, though. I think he just killed a man."

Their attention returned to the scene. Three of Davar's friends had decided to try their luck with the commander. But as Riker twisted the first one's arm behind his back and sent him catapulting into the crowd, all three began to regret their decision.

"I could help him out," Carmen offered.

"Nah. Let's not spoil his fun," Troi quipped.

Riker's other two assailants were making an admirable effort. Still, they were no match for the Starfleet commander. After leaving them with a few new bumps and bruises, Riker made his way towards Tarron. Davar had gotten the upper hand at some point. He straddled the Perler boy, his fists raining down as Tarran tried to shield himself with his hands.

Riker lifted Davar into the air, scruffing him like an unruly puppy. Then he slammed his face against the nearby wall. "Are you done?" he growled. "Or do I need to wrap things up for you?"

Davar struggled for a moment, hanging from the commander's grip. But upon noticing the size and strength discrepancy, he thought otherwise. "No, no-I'm done!"

"Good. Now get the hell out of here." He tossed Davar to the side. The young man landed in a humiliating heap. The others trickled out ahead of him, limping along in a bedraggled line of defeat.

Tarron flashed the commander a bloody smile. "Thank-you, Mr. Will," he said, trying to pull his knees beneath him. Two of his friends hurried to his side and helped him stand up the rest of the way.

"Let's just get you home and cleaned up. What happened, anyway?" Riker asked, joining his family once again.

"Oh, it was nothing. Just...Davar being Davar," Tarron replied.

"Yeah, it's all Davar's fault," Carmen chimed in. "If he hadn't run his mouth about Jora…" Riker took hold of her chin, examining her face for any bruises. "I wanted to hit him, you know. But I didn't. I didn't hit anyone, in fact. Honest!"

His brows drew together suspiciously, but instead of pressing her for more details, he waved the bartender down. "Could I get a glass of water for my daughter?"

"Sure thing," the bartender said, filling a glass right away. He came out from behind the counter and handed it to Riker.

"I'm fine," Carmen insisted. "Really. I don't need any-" A wave of cold water hit her in the face. She cried out in dismay, rubbing droplets from her eyes. "Wh-what was that for?" she spluttered.

"To help you sober up."

"I am sober!" she cried. "Well...sober enough."

Riker spun her around by the shoulders and gave her a little shove towards the door. "Home. Now."