Invariably, whenever Makari walked into a social area that was even remotely capable of passing itself off as a bar or resort setting he was reminded of being home on Risa. The resort planet just had a way of seeping into one’s mind and making itself comparable to every other establishment in the known galaxy. If you could find it on Risa, you could seldom find it better other places. And memories formed while watching the twin suns of Risa rise and fall were never forgotten...<br/><br/>But that didn’t mean such bars had the same feel as a Risian one. Nor did they feel as... open... as homecoming... They were just places to socialize, for crew to mingle, for quiet conversations to happen. For staff to get to know one another. It was Starfleet sterile in a way, and that hardly screamed resort. It screamed work.<br/><br/>Work. It was ALWAYS about work. Makari shrugged his shoulders and stepped further into the room. He nodded back at the friendliness shown his way and made his way over to a nearby table. Ready to socialize, to pretend sterile meant Risa and that work meant play. Good luck with that one...