"It's a primitive culture. I'm just trying to blend in!" Deanna's speech slurred just slightly as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder in an oddly slow exaggerated motion, and sank into a nearby chair. Good thing too. Her balance left a little something to be desired.

He'd never, in all the years he'd known her, seen her like this. She was three sheets to the wind, and somehow blissfully unaware of it. Part of him wanted to laugh at her. He knew it was wrong. She was only trying to do her job. But the combination of fatigue and flippantness was positively entertaining, or maybe it would have been in different circumstances. "You're blended alright," he muttered.

"I already told him our cover story. He didn't believe me!" she insisted.

Will Riker glanced around the bar at the low life losers that were strung out amongst the tables and then back to the bumbling drunk meandering around the room. This was the great Zephram Cockeran? Of course, he thought to himself. It had seemed like it was going to be such a good week, just a few days before. Then came the message about the Borg, and now, he was sitting in a bar, hundreds of years before he would even be born, trying to make sure that the world, as he knew it, stayed in tact. And who did he have for help? A drunken letch and his best friend, who sat next to him, completely soused. It was time to get down to business here. "We are running out of time. Now If we tell him the truth, do you think he'll be able to handle it?"

"If you're looking for my professional opinion, as ship's counselor… He's nuts!" Deanna told him, as if it didn't much matter to her, either way.

Will let out an exhausted sigh. "I'll be sure to note that in my log."

The music started up again, so loud that any hope of talking was immediately drowned away. Zephram Cockoran was dancing around like a buffoon and all of Will's childhood illusions were being dashed at his feet, and then to add to his growing list of problems, he heard Deanna's head hit the table. He glanced back to her and found passed out on the hard surface, her lips smashed up by the table's surface. He sunk his head into his hand. It had seemed like it was going to be such a good week.