Kirk's mouth dropped open.
The woman sitting a few chairs down at the bar was the most beautiful woman Captain James T. Kirk had ever seen—and Kirk had seen many beautiful women in his life traveling the galaxy. But this woman's beauty made the beauty of the scantily clad aliens Kirk had met seem dim. She wasn't scantily clad, but the close-fit shimmering silver fabric of her clothing left nothing of her perfectly voluptuous body to the imagination. Kirk had to lift his eyes to notice her golden blonde hair, pulled into a neat bun, shining under the dim lights of the bar. Her lips were full and red, and metal pieces above her right eye, on her lower cheek, and on her hand only added to the sense of exotic beauty as they glinted and sparkled when she leaned towards the light.
Kirk, almost unknowingly, moved to the empty seat next to her. Hearing him sit down, she looked towards him. Her ruby lips parted to speak, and Kirk was sure that whatever came out of them would be wondrous.
"Your pupils are dilating," she said.
Her tone had all the emotional inflection of the ship's computer. "Your mouth is slightly open as well," she noted. "Many men have that reaction to me."
Kirk snapped his mouth shut, hoping he hadn't been drooling, and considered how to respond. "Well, we do that because…you're very beautiful."
Her eyebrow—or, at least, what would have been her eyebrow had there not been a metal piece over it—lifted. "So I have been told," she replied.
"Then," Kirk said, giving her a smile and starting to use the line he'd been planning, "Why is a gorgeous girl like you alone?"
"I do not see the correlation."
Kirk's slightly inebriated brain (he was in a bar, after all) took a second to remember what "correlation" meant and another second to figure out how it applied to their conversation.
"Uh," he began unintelligently, "Since you're so gorgeous, you shouldn't have any trouble finding…male companions." He set his elbow on the bar, raised an eyebrow suggestively, and bent his body towards hers, smiling crookedly.
"I see," she said, nodding, "If I desired a male companion, I assure you, I would have one."
Kirk's good mood faded slightly, but he was determined to keep trying. "If you met the right man, would you…change that view?"
She scrutinized every detail of his appearance, from his Starfleet issue black boots to his lopsided attempting-to-be-charming grin. Her gray-blue eyes also pierced the surface, seeming to see into his mind and read his intentions.
"You are suggesting yourself as the 'right man'," she concluded.
"Well, I don't see why I…couldn't be…the 'right' man."
"Then you are blind," she replied bluntly.
He took a bit of offense at that, but he tried to turn it to his advantage. "Of course I'm not! I see you, the rapturously beautiful—um, what's your name?" The thought that he didn't know something so fundamental bothered him.
"Seven of Nine," she replied, with all the inviting warmth of an iceberg. Kirk had hoped flattery would draw her out, but now it was slowly penetrating his mind that he was in a no-win situation.
But, as proven by his reaction to the Kobayashi Maru test, Kirk didn't believe in no-win scenarios. And he especially didn't believe in them when winning meant working his charms on a female.
"I'm Captain James T. Kirk, Seven of Nine. That's an unusual name. How did you get it?"
"It was my Borg designation. But I don't suppose you've heard of the Borg, Captain Kirk."
"Call me Jim," he said, waving his hand noncommittally.
"I will not call you anything," Seven informed him, standing up and revealing more of her body, which Kirk looked down at before jerking his gaze back upward, "because I have only tolerated your presence this long because my fellow crew members suggested that I attempt social interaction. Now, I find that you are a famous Starfleet officer notorious for being a womanizer. I highly disapprove."
Kirk's mouth opened and closed, somewhat like a fish out of water gasping for air. Being rejected by a woman was out of Kirk's native element. And her tone was rather threatening. If it was an iceberg before, now it was the iceberg that sank the Titanic.
And Kirk, still persisting in believing there was no such thing as a no-win scenario, made one last attempt to keep from sinking.
"I'm not a womanizer!" he insisted, looking up to face her. "I enjoy the company of women! Such as your lovely self!"
He leaned forward, hooked his arm around her back, and tried to pull her to his lips. But as soon as he began to tug, she shook off his arm with superhuman strength, knocking him off the bar stool and onto the ground.
"Good bye, Captain," she said icily, and exited the bar, leaving Kirk with a large bruise on his head—and on his pride.
A/N I have no explanation, time travel or anything, for this meeting, other than the fact that it'd be funny. I had a lot of fun with descriptions and metaphors, hence the title. Similar message to my fic "An Unhappy Father's Day".