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“Or she could just settle for coffee, black.”
Raffi shoots a death glare at Jack from where she and Seven were seated in their ready room, watching the young counsellor pace back and forth. "Not every captain needs a signature drink."
“But it’s part of your legacy, see.” Jack turns spiritedly towards Seven. “It’s what all the ensigns will order at the replicators. It’s what people will serve up at the first public reading of your memoir –“
"Or I could drink what is practical." Seven raises her eyebrow.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that hard.” Jack wheedles in a way that is simultaneously annoying and endearing.
“A dirty chai latte? A berries and cream frappe? Something with... pizzazz, you know.”
"I don't –" Seven looks positively flustered as she turns to Raffi. "Number One, you don't have a special drink, do you?"
"I mean, I've been quite into chamomile tea lately." Raffi offers, as if Seven didn't watch her guzzle a gallon of it every night.
Seven glances at Jack. "Is this... spectacular enough to get you off my ass, ensign?"
Jack's grin only grows wider. "Quite possibly, captain."
"Fine. Then make it chamomile tea." She pauses, considering.
"Extra sugar."