Lt Alex Storm - I'd Rather Like That
Karen Morris
(( Primary Sickbay, Deck 7 – USS Artemis-A ))
As Alex’s eyes rose from the cold of the floor under her feet, to meet that of the doctor’s, for a split second, her smile faltered before well-trained mental guards slipped it back into place. He was missing half of his face! Well, the unexpected half that she had taken a liking to on Callis I.
Bancroft: ::polite nod:: And a good afternoon to you, Lieutenant Storm. ::beat:: I couldn’t help but notice your smile falter just a touch – should I be diagnosing a case of ‘White Coat Syndrome’?
Storm: Oh. It’s nothing much. It’s just … you shaved your beard off.
His hand seemed to rise to his chin almost of its own accord, as if to check if his memory was correct.
Bancroft: You’re very observant. ::arching an eyebrow:: I confess, that wasn’t my leading theory – my beard is responsible for your sudden loss of morale?
Alex shrugged. Her smile was more of a confession than a declaration of a state of mind.
Storm: I dunno. I kinda liked it.
She didn’t need to be a Betazoid to see that that particular tidbit surprised the doctor. Thoughts tickled the back of her mind. She expected it to be easy to push them away.
It wasn’t.
Maybe … she wasn’t as willing to banish them as she should have been.
She felt the conflict roil up within him. Stop it, Alex! If it were anyone else…
But it’s not anyone else. It’s Roy.
Doesn’t make it right!
She watched as he nodded.
Besides, you may not want to know what’s going on in his head.
Mental guards in place, she employed her powers of deduction.
I’ll just play detective….Or Tactical Officer. I’ll just play Tactical Officer and figure it out without anything other than my eyes, ears and … she stopped before her thoughts added one other organ which was already attuned to the Doctor.
Bancroft: It was awfully itchy, truth be told – though I suspect that had less to do with the beard and more to do with two weeks without a proper shower.
Having seen a good deal of Roy during the last few hours on Callis I, his mannerisms … or Royisms were rather declarative. But Alex could see him mentally don his medical coat before stopping with only his wrists in. Something kept his professional demeanor from completely taking over.
His words brought an unbidden smile to her face.
Bancroft: Perhaps I’ll grow it back, now that sonic showers have resumed their place as a daily feature rather than a luxury.
So he was able to surprise her.
But now, she had to decide how to respond.
Don’t do it on my account? - Absolutely not. She wanted him to grow it back.
But only if you want to? No…that gives him too easy an ‘out.’
Please, do? No, too forceful.
How about…
Storm: I’d rather like that.
He smiled…only a little.
Storm: But since I willingly acquiesced to darken sickbay’s doors, if I told you that I’ll be fine, could we dispense with the check-up?
Bancroft: While I’m prepared to provisionally accept your self-diagnosis, I’m afraid I’ll still be ignoring it entirely. ::an easy, almost apologetic shrug:: We’re a peculiar profession. We like to see things with our own eyes.
Storm: I was afraid you were going to say that.
And at her words, he took on the mien of a priest taking her to a confessional. Things that she would never utter in the light were to be examined in the seclusion of a biobed.
And, as a postulate, she was expected to follow.
Upon arrival, the privacy screen whispered closed around them, and Roy’s hand settled on the edge of the biobed.
Bancroft: Go ahead and have a seat. There’s a gown in the cabinet to your right. I’ll need a direct look at the affected area. ::a small, deliberate pause:: I’ll step just outside and give you a moment to change.
Storm: Affected area, huh?
It sounded so clinical, and with his back turned to her, she couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction.
The curtain settled between them with a soft, final hush.
Alex didn’t move. Instead, she waited to see if he was going to take her bait … but he didn’t. At least not audibly.
Her eyes briefly fastened onto his shoes, which were still pointed away from her. One by one, the pieces of her clothing were shed, folded neatly together, and set on an open shelf. Which cabinet did he say the gown was in? The one to my right. Walking over and opening the door, she took the top gown out.
One arm in. The other arm in.
But then, she felt a shiver wiggle its way down her back. The edges of the gown didn’t meet. Not even close. Using her fingers as a gauge, she guessed the gap was at least six … maybe eight inches across. He’d see a whole lot more than the ‘affected area’ at that rate.
There were several more gowns under the first one, so she set that one aside and tried the second one. One arm, the other arm…and the damn shiver persisted.
A toe began to tap outside the curtain. Alex scrunched up her face and gave a solid tug on the gown, only to hear a vocal … rrrrrip.
Bancroft: Lieutenant? Everything alright in there? This is… ::a glance at the chronometer, one brow lifting:: beginning to exceed my expectations for ‘remove uniform, apply gown.’ Do I need to assemble a rescue party?
Alex turned around to face his voice in case he carried out his threat. With her back to the cold of the biobed, she said…
Storm: Are you playing a practical joke on me, Doctor?
Bancroft: Response
Storm: Did you put ‘youth’ sized gowns in the cabinet by chance? I’m only a size medium and…let’s just say that both gowns I’ve tried on don’t leave much…if anything ... to the imagination, if you catch my drift or the draft that I’m quite literally feeling.
Bancroft: Response
Storm: Bottom shelf of that cabinet? Just a sec.
She shuffled back to the cabinet. Sure enough, there was a lower shelf … with gowns on it. Color flushed across her face…and further.
She grabbed one. Holding it up, she could tell that this was more appropriately sized. It took only seconds for her to doff the torn gown, to don the new one, and fasten each tie securely behind her. Once done, she hoisted herself up onto the biobed.
Storm: Okay. You’re safe to come in.
Her - still bare - feet dangled over the edge and swung back and forth as her hands took their place one on each side of her. She tipped her head as the curtain parted like the Jordan River, and a barely-there smile played at the edges of her lips.
Bancroft: Response
~*~
Tags / TBC!
~*~
Lt Alex Storm
Tactical Officer
USS Artemis
O240103SK2