Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - A Labrador Amongst the Stars

[Carter Schimpff]

(( Main Mess Hall, Deck 3, USS Artemis-A ))

Bancroft: ::to his oatmeal:: You look… lumpier than usual.

The beige mass offered no reply. It didn’t need to. Its texture spoke volumes – none of them kind.

From the other side of the table, a lilting, gold-tinged voice floated his direction.

Imril: ::Feigning ignorance of who/what Bancroft is talking to:: Really? I’ve been working out more lately.

Roy glanced up at Imril with an arched eyebrow as he settled down across the table. Normally he'd have chuckled at that, but on this particular morning he was just too damned tired.

Tho’Bi joined them at nearly the same time.

Imril: Did you stay up even later than usual? Again?

Bancroft: ::rubbing his face:: Look, I don’t tell you how to – hi, Tho’Bi – I don’t tell you how to turn a wrench, you don’t tell me how to… uh… sleep. ::a beat, then with resignation:: I am so tired.

Tho'Bi: ::talking through chunky chews:: I too had little sleep.

Imril: ::Teasing:: You’re a JG now. You should be setting a better example of observing duty-shift timetables.

Tho’Bi, still chewing, pointed one long blue finger in Roy’s direction.

Tho'Bi: ::chunky chews:: …that's true ::nodding and final chew:: I don't ::swallows:: I'm still an Ensign. I have no example to set,

Bancroft: Ah, but I am! You see, I’m operating on quantum relativity. Somewhere, in some parallel timeline, I’m fresh-faced and well-rested... and by the laws of… some quantum law… you can’t have that Roy without this Roy. It’s called multiversal responsibility. I’m setting a good example in every dimension.

He took a long, dramatic sip of coffee like it might seal this nonsense theory into reality. Imril mirrored the gesture with his own drink.

Bancroft: …anyone buy any of that?

Imril: Any particular reason for this particular bout of all-night-ism?

Roy reached for the PADD beside his bowl – the same one he’d woken up partially face-glued to that morning – and slid it across the table toward Imril. It bumped gently into his mug.

Bancroft: It’s all on this… take a look, then let Tho’Bi read. ::a beat:: Why so tired, Thobes?

Tho'Bi: ::chunky chews:: I am looking after Dr. Richards’ cat. The little one misses her mama. She… destroyed my dress uniform ::sheepish grin and shrug:: …it at least seemed to make the cat happy for a while …though it was just before the Ribbon Ceremony ::tilts head:: …which wasn't ideal.

Bancroft: ::dryly:: The cat has good taste. I’ve never liked those dress whites.

He absently rubbed the front of his neck.

Bancroft: Collar’s too tight. Feels like I’m constantly being choked. ::quickly, giving Imril side-eye:: And before you say it, no – I’m not into that.

Imril: Response

Tho'Bi: I built her a cat tree. …hopefully, it will …distract her from missing her Mama. 

Bancroft: I honestly can’t imagine a sentient being missing the walking calamity known as Samantha Richards. ::grinning:: Are you sure the cat isn’t trying to signal to you that it’s being held against its will?

Imril: Response 

Tho’Bi took another massive bite of the Lovecraftian-horror masquerading as a ‘sandwich’ – a creation that seemed constructed less for nourishment and more as a direct challenge to deities far and wide.

Almost immediately, he sputtered – then coughed.

oO I would too, given the ingredients… Oo

Another hack, another sputter, another gag – it soon became clear that this had progressed beyond a simple ‘wrong pipe’ scenario to something potentially medically significant.

Roy didn’t even blink at first. He just closed his eyes and let his head drop to the table in a slow, theatrical thud.

Bancroft: ::muffled, from tabletop:: I am off duty. Why do you always have medical emergencies when I’m off duty?

Still, he stood – grumbling – and rounded the table, one hand already forming into a practiced fist.

Imril: Response

Just as Roy took position behind the spluttering Engineer, a blue hand slapped the table top lightly.

Tho'Bi: ::breathless uneven speaking:: I'm fine …not the first time.

He looked up at Roy and then over at Imril and smiled.

Tho'Bi: My mother calls this ::holds up the hulk sandwich:: that ridiculous human sandwich I make with our food ::laughs::

Roy grunted tiredly as he returned to his side of the table, sitting down heavily in his chair.

Bancroft: Small bites, man. Small bites. Chew your food. What are you, a Labrador? ::beat:: Anyway, Imril – thoughts? Pass it to Tho’Bi when you’re done.

Imril/Tho’Bi: Responses

Bancroft: It’s an Earth dog– never mind. ::to Imril:: So yeah… obviously there are a few… kinks… to work out, but I think the general philosophy behind it is sound. This could really be helpful in cases where patients are non-verbal. Scanners can only tell you so much – a patient’s own voice is one of the most important diagnostic tools we have.

Imril/Tho’Bi: Responses

(OOC: In case you missed the inline link, check here for what’s on the PADD: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/kh-vcUvtn9Q/m/wnXGKSW_AAAJ)

TAG/TBC!

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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft

Medical Officer

USS Artemis-A

A240205RB1