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Captain Shaw was no stranger to good wine, and many a tense dinner he shared with Commander Hansen was often accompanied with a bottle from his private collection.
But Shaw’s finest wine tasted like sour grapes and wet dog to Seven, as she paired it with his grating, acidic demands: “get it sorted, Annika.”
Seven remembers an endless supply of Chateau Picard at the Vasquez Rocks, watching the silken liquid swirl in red bud vases and chipped ceramic mugs.
A vintage paired with Raffi’s lilting laugh, oaky and opulent, velvety maroon, as she kisses it off of her wine-stained lips.
