A flash, and Anzyl steps into a long corridor, the teleport pads leading to floors, not individual rooms. The Starfleet interior is clean, lit by white lights, with gray and maroon carpeted floors, panels, and consoles adorning the walls.
Entering his quarters, the proximity bio scan opens the door, revealing the largest quarters he's ever seen – a fully furnished luxury apartment. A master bedroom with a walk-in closet, a spacious bathroom, an office, living area, and a modern Starfleet kitchen with a replicator and dining table.
"Well THAT won't do…" he muttered to himself.
Bags neatly lined near the couch, he begins to unpack his life, lost in thoughts as he removes piece by piece of his baggage. His mind wanders, grasping the enormity of the ship and its diverse inhabitants ,that now called it home like him.
Only at conventions and conferences did he see such a plethora and diversity of life, and now, they were all his responsibility.
As he hangs up and places clothes in the closet and dressers, his mind drifts to his chief staff, a mix of characters from different races. Human, Lukari, Romulan, Kobali, Klingon, Jem'Hadar, Illyrian, and an Enaran, and that's just the bridge!
He smiled as he unpacked, always appreciating putting faces to names on a list. Anzyl fully understood that each name on his ship roster was never just a name, but a person, with goals, beliefs, viewpoints, hopes, dreams and aspirations.
"Maybe not the Jem'Hadar… they really are kinda one-sided…" he chuckles out loud..
Moving on to collectibles, keepsakes, and trophies, he lifts each, placing them on random shelves or stands. Vivid memories from Starfleet accolades to championship trophies fill the room. But would they mean anything on this ship, would his crew care, would it matter to them if they saw this gold statue, or would they glaze over it? Never caring to see the deeper person that resides in each one's soul.
His stomach roared, realizing he never actually ate yet, and that he lost his appetite earlier thanks to the Hirogen and Jem'hadar blood bath he bore witness to.
He looks down at the box labeled "Kitchen" and opens it up, pulling out a pristine white chefs apron. He tied it around his waist and walked to his kitchen/replicator. He for sure had to have a word with ops before they left the space dock. He was NOT going to go without a fully stocked kitchen.
"Computer, replicate the following ingredients: 95 grams of almond flour, 110 grams of room temperature unsalted butter, 106 grams of packed brown sugar…."
Working on his small dining table, and what items he had in his kitchen box, Anzyl let the thoughts of the day melt away. As he knead the ingredients into a small dough, he lanced his frustrations. Having no oven, he set his personal phaser on the lowest setting to bake it.
While some captains delved into archeology, or water polo, a good number of captains wound their days down with good home cooking and passion for unreplicated cuisine. For Anzyl Praxas, captain of the USS Nexus, he was a master class Patisserie, indulging his insatiable sweet tooth.
He dusted his creation with a snowfall of fine powdered sugar, and gazed at his single serving of Almond Croissant, and grinned the same way he always did when his creation was "Just perfection." He softly spoke to himself.
After indulging in his piece of pastry heaven, he sat on the end of his bed. He didn't realize how tired he was until he sat down. Such a long and eventful day, mentally exhausted, feet ached from endless walking. He took off his apron and sugar covered undershirt, chucking them into resequencer, laying down in his slacks, and immediately passed out.
Falling asleep in his new home for the first time.