Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Betazoid Flash Mob
Carter Schimpff
(( Bancroft’s Quarters, Deck 3 – USS Artemis-A ))
Bancroft: Right. Anyway… you ever play vlt or Hay’? It’s a Klingon game. ::beat, gesturing vaguely:: You take turns asking the other player ‘vlt’ or ‘Hay” and they choose one. ‘Vlt’ means you get to ask the other player a question and they have to answer it truthfully. ‘Hay” is kind of like… uh, ‘dare’, I guess, except I think in Klingon the intention is more like ‘I choose ritual combat instead of emotional vulnerability.’ ::small, amused shrug:: The way I’ve always played it, you just think up something silly for the other player to do. No bloodshed required.
Roy regretted it almost immediately.
Not the explanation – the suggestion. He’d seen that look in Sam Richards’ eyes before: the bright, calculating glint of a woman who had spent the better part of a year keeping two tiny people alive was now, briefly, given the opportunity to be mischievous once again.
Not reckless. Mischievous. There was a difference, and it usually spelled trouble for him.
For perhaps the tenth time since she’d arrived, Roy wondered if a simple game of Jeffries Tubes and Ladders – or even that cursed Ferengi game Galaxy-opoly – might have been the safer play.
Richards: Game on Doc. ::downing more of her beer:: Game on.
Roy paused, lifted his bottle, and pointed the open end at her like an accusatory finger.
Bancroft: That look? That one right there? That’s exactly why the Klingons invented ritual combat.
Richards was far, far too pleased with herself.
Richards: I’ll go first! ::shifting positions so she was turned more towards him with her legs tucked under her:: vlt or Hay’?
Roy narrowed his eyes, a familiar sense of dread settling into his bones. This was a woman who would weaponize a smile. He had no doubt she’d have him naked on the bridge before he could say court-martial.
Bancroft: ::slowly:: … vlt.
Richards: Alright. What is the most shocking and uncharacteristic thing you’ve ever done in public? Something that no one expected? ::Tilting the opening of the bottle towards him:: Remember. Answer truthfully.
Roy didn’t answer right away. He leaned back, eyes unfocused, as though rifling through a mental filing cabinet labeled ‘Things I Normally Repress.’
When he finally spoke, it was with a soft huff of laughter – more self-directed than amused.
Bancroft: Back at the academy, I was invited to be part of a Betazoid flash mob. ::a beat, dry:: Sam… did you know that Betazoids have a very different definition of ‘flash’ mob than humans do?
Her reaction was everything he’d hoped for and more. The slow blink. The recalibration. The dawning realization that Roy Bancroft, Doc Crashcart himself, might be hiding depths that were – at the very least – ill advised.
She held out her bottle toward him.
Richards: Cheers to that my friend.
He clinked it, smiling faintly, then folded his arms as though settling into his role.
Bancroft: ::crossing his arms:: Alright, Richards. Vlt or Hay’?
Richards: Response
Roy took a slow pull from his beer, eyes never leaving hers. The question had been ready long before he’d offered the game. This was just the cleanest way to ask it without making her feel cornered.
Bancroft: Alright. Friends or not – and that's still up for debate – we both know this isn't a simple 'I need to get away from the kids for a sec' kind of visit. ::pause, eyes boring into hers:: What's eating you?
He watched it land. Watched the way her shoulders tightened, the way her eyes shone too brightly, as though her body had been bracing for the question long before her mind had.
For a moment, Roy regretted asking. There were times when ignorance felt kinder, when letting someone keep their walls intact seemed merciful.
But he’d learned – both as a doctor and as a human – that untreated pain didn’t simply vanish.
It metastasized.
And if she’d come here – to him – then on some level, she already knew that too.
Richards: Response
What she said settled heavily in the room, and Roy let it. Didn’t rush to fill the space. Silence, used correctly, was one of the most effective tools in healing.
When he finally spoke, it was quieter than before. No jokes. No cleverness.
Bancroft: ::exhaling slowly through his nose:: That’s… terrible. No other word for it. ::a beat, softer:: I’m really glad you didn’t sit with that alone.
Richards: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1