Outside Hoshi's Apartment Building, San Francisco, Tuesday night

In the weeks since being released from probation and moving into her own place, Hoshi had settled into a routine. She spent her days at Starfleet Command, listening to radio transmissions and searching for patterns in the noise. Then she spent her nights at the 602 Club getting drunk.

No one said it was a quiet routine.

At the moment, she was stumbling back to her building. If she was sober, she'd be at her front door by now, but in her current state, she was struggling to remember the passcode to the lobby entrance. "Stupid high-tech security measures. I wish they'd just give us old-fashioned keys," she grumbled.

[Open for phone calls and texts. Come on, you know you want to talk to a drunk Hoshi!]