Ensign Roy Bancroft - Housebroken, With a Pedigree
Carter Schimpff
(( Primary Sickbay – Deck 7, USS Artemis-A ))
Bancroft: ::idly, but with a note of curiosity:: If I might ask a question, ma’am – I’m enjoying your company, but I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a Lieutenant spend this much time chatting with an Ensign who hasn’t even peeled the plastic off his pip yet. ::beat, dryly:: What gives?
Vhysa’lia: What, I can’t just be curious about my colleagues? I have to have some ulterior motive?
Vhysa’lia laughed – bright, unbothered. It suited the room.
Bancroft: ::light, conceding:: Curiosity’s a professional virtue; I’m a fan. ::tilts his head, half-grin:: Just trying to figure out if I’m being audited or adopted, that’s all. ::a beat:: If it’s the latter, I’m housebroken, I promise. I even come with a pedigree.
Vhysa’lia: ::hands up, in mock surrender, another light laugh:: Fine! You caught me, it’s all a ruse... ::pause:: But please, ma’am feels… too formal. I would prefer just “doctor”.
Noted. Roy smiled faintly to himself. The reflex was old and well-trained; his mother had hardwired ‘ma’am’ into him somewhere between ‘please’ and ‘bless your heart’. You can take the boy out of the south…
He let the smile do most of the talking – heard, understood. I’ll do my best.
Bancroft: Doctor it is. And, for the record, I’ll answer to almost anything: Roy, ‘hey you’, Doc Crashcart…
Vhysa’lia: So, I do have to ask. Crashcart? Where and how did you get saddled with that?
He thumbed the dermal regenerator off and set it down in the tray thoughtfully. A memory flickered – shells, the grit peppering his face, Cole yanking him through a narrowing slice of doorway.
He kept his voice light.
Bancroft: ::wry, matter-of-fact:: We’ll need a couple drinks – and Natasha Cole – for the real version. ::pausing:: If you prefer the comedy cut – rumor has it I once surfed a trauma cart down a corridor during a slow night on rotation. That is a scandalous exaggeration. ::a beat:: It was a controlled glide with excellent form.
Vhysa’lia: Response
He tipped his chin toward them in deference, inviting the volley.
Bancroft: Do you have a callsign I should know before I accidentally invent one? Or is “Doctor” your preferred brand across the board?
Vhysa’lia: Response
He felt his shoulders relax, just a little. Flexed his fingers once, twice – quietly chasing off the cramp that kept threatening to arrive – and realized he’d finally stopped bracing for impact.
Bancroft: ::lightly:: So tell me, what does Doctor Vhysa’lia do for fun when they’re not rescuing Ensigns from a double-shift of dullness? Please don’t say “chart audits”. My heart can only take so much excitement.
Vhysa’lia: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Ensign Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1