Star Trek: TNG: Q's Day Out

Chapter Three

"Can we have coffee?" Q asked the random question.

Roxana opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep whilst typing. She gathered that she must have been leaning on the J key, because there was a thick blob on the paper in the shape of a J when she moved the arm of the key off of the paper. She yanked the paper off of the roller and threw it in the bin. She was, at least, thankful for the fact that she had only written a few sentences on that now destroyed piece of paper, so she wouldn't have that much to redo. She looked up at Q and rubbed her eyes. "What?"

He sighed and then repeated it, pronouncing every syllable very carefully, "Can we have coffee?"

"Now?" She asked him, confused and fed up.

Once again, Q sighed and then replied, "Yes, now. When did you think?"

"No we can't," she said simply.

"Why ever not?" Q asked her.

"Because, I don't want to," she said.

"But I've never had coffee before."

She shrugged. "Then you won't mind waiting a little while longer." She started to continue with her work.

"Please?" Q asked, stretching out the word much more than it needed to be.

"For a twenty thousand year old guy, you sure do act like a two year old," she observed.

Q pulled a face at her when she wasn't looking.

After half an hour, she stopped typing. "Fine," she said as she stood up from her chair. "We can go for coffee."

Q smiled. "Finally," he exclaimed.

"I have to say," Q began slowly. "I don't care much for walking."

She shrugged and smiled at him. "Well, I guess you'll just have to get used to not being able to 'poof' everywhere then, won't you?"

"I do not 'poof'," he decided adamantly.

"Whatever you say," she said, closing the pointless subject. "Anyway, where do you want to have coffee?" She asked.

"How am I supposed to know? I've never been here before."

"You said you had," she said, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed. "I have, but not to this particular place. London, or whatever it was called. It's so very dreary and boring, why on earth would I ever want to come here?"

Roxana chuckled and said, understanding everything that he had said, "Touché."

They walked throughout the high street for a little while longer until they came across a little suburban coffee shop. It was small and seemed almost lost, being shoved rather indignantly in between two towering estate agents. "This'll do," Roxana suggested.

Q inspected the outer area of the shop before gingerly opening the door and walking through. He held the door open for Roxana, which prompted her to say, "I see you haven't forgotten your manners."

"I would never do that," Q said, sounding almost as if he were injured.

She grinned and said, "I think I should buy the drinks."

"I have no money," he said simply.

She rolled her eyes, saying, "Sure."

Q shrugged, thinking no more of it and found a table. It was by a window and he had chosen to sit next to two quite old people who were arguing over nothing important and two teenagers.

Moments later, Roxana returned with a mocha, for herself, and black coffee. She gave it to Q. He gulped it down so quickly that anyone would think he was severely dehydrated or something. He instantly put the cup down on the table. "Ow," he said.

"It's hot, did you not know that?" She asked him, raising a quizzical and amused eyebrow.

He shook his head and winced at the pain that his now throbbing and burning tongue brought him.

Roxana drank her mocha in small, delicate and quiet sips. It took her almost a whole hour to finish it.

"You people wear some rather odd things," Q pointed out. He looked over at a punk teenager and a man who looked strikingly like a quite overweight John Travolta.

She laughed sweetly. "If you say so."

He scanned what Roxana was wearing. "You seem to be wearing the most normal garments."

"I do?" She echoed him, severely doubting what he had just said in his observation.

He nodded, saying, "Uh huh. A few people in here look as though they would rather like the idea of cutting my throat. And a few others would not surprise me if they simultaneously broke into random song."

Roxana couldn't help but giggle, so she did. "Who exactly are you?" She asked him as she studied his face. He sure did look human. Kind of.

"I've already told you. I am Q."

"No, I mean, who are you? Where do you come from? When do you come from?" She put to him a great deal of questions all at the same time.

"I am Q of the magnificently omnipotent race called the Q," he said, thinking nothing of it.

"Your race is called the Q?" She asked, trying to contain her amusement.

He nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yes. Do I always have to repeat things for you?" He asked, fed up.

Roxana shook her head. "What year are you from?"

"Not this year," he replied rather uselessly.

"Not helpful," she said bluntly and feeling annoyed.

She let out a small sigh, before asking him, "Seriously, what year? Unless you don't have years or something where you come from."

"2365," he replied bluntly.

"Wow," she said quietly. "So, you're like a time traveller or something?"

"You could say that, although a more appropriate term would be omnipotent."

"I get that. You've said that twice now," she said. "You expect me to believe you're god-like?"

He shook his head and smiled widely. "No, no. I'm not 'god-like'. I am a god."

She scoffed. "No you're not."

"Tell me one reason why I am not," he offered.

"If you were god, would you not want to stop suffering on this world? War? Famine?" She asked him desperately.

He just replied simply, "My people are forbidden from interfering with the affairs of other cultures."

"So, you're not god then are you?"

"I am not God, no. But, I am a god."

Roxana rolled her eyes and shrugged. She could see that this conversation was probably not going to go anywhere important, so she pressed the matter no more. "Can you get me some sugar?" She asked him after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"I do not know where it is," he said simply, trying to get out of retrieving that infernal sugar for her.

"You do," she stated.