Ensign Doz Finch - The Picture of Health
Doz Finch
((Sickbay, USS Gorkon))
Namura: Thanks for coming in, Ensign. There were some concerns over the minor injuries you sustained on your last tour, raised by the Medical Chief over there. ::Looping her fingers through the mug of tea, Tali sat back in her chair as she looked to Loxley.:: Doctor, what were your findings?
She tilted her head to the side and squinted. Doctor Ziao.
Loxley: Some eye strain over a moderate distance most likely age-related. ::he gave a small smile:: No offence.
She nodded seriously, till she recoiled in realisation.
Namura: I'd recommend not wearing your ocular enhancers in the evening when you've clocked off your duty shift. Try to get as much time without them as you can. ::Her nail knocked on the edge of the PADD.:: You'll see a greater benefit in giving them a rest.
Finch: Fair enough, Doctor. ::she said, head lifted upwards:: Consider it done.
Namura: Aside from that, I can't see anything to worry about. You're the picture of health and I hope when I'm in my sixties, I've got a good bone structure. For a human, your calcium levels are perfect, your protein levels are adequate. While sodium intake could be lower, we'll worry about it when it's something to worry about. But for now, you're free to clock your heels together and fly, my pretty, fly.
Loxley: “Robust” you might say.
Finch: Now we’re talking, Mister Loxley. ::she squished her lips together, satiated by his choice of word:: made of stern stuff, us Finch’s.
oO Except for Wallace and his weak constitution, the old numpty… Oo
A brief silence hung in the air like a wayward portrait being thoughtfully considered in a quiet museum; specs of dust swirling about in their magnificent and graceful way, seizing the moment as dust specs tended to. Or it was simply Doz’s starry eyes, dizzied by the change in lighting. Regardless, though, Doctor Namura was sitting staring at Doz in a way only the Mona Lisa knew how, and she knew something else was coming.
Namura: By the way, Doctor Ziao said to say hello, and he hopes you're not guzzling gasoline or someone else's genes.
Doctor bloody Ziao. Apparently, escaping his medical clutch would take more than a commission and change in ship. She’d have to send a subspace message to Lieutenant Zeeza–the Chief Engineer of the Marigold–and get her to trap him inside the emergency top hat storage cupboard.
Better yet, encourage Gepe Grasa, the XO, to do it. She often enjoyed playing cat and mouse, and with Ziao’s frail frame, he’d be the perfect candidate.
She smirked to herself, and then to the two doctors, as usual allowing all of the ridges and hillocks of her face the freedom to stretch themselves out.
Loxley: See? Gasoline is bad for you. There’s probably some medical studies somewhere.
Finch: Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Doctor. ::she winked sternly:: for every medical study done, there’s that one-off miracle ready to knock the bottom out of it. ::she stood up to her fullest height, making very little difference, and placed her hands firmly on her hips::
Loxley: The usual caveats – if you have any concerns, no matter how slight, let us know. We’re here to help, to work with you, not to judge or force-feed you vegetables. Plus, we’re lovely people.
Namura: Response
Finch: I trust that you are, I trust that you are. Thank you kindly for your time, both of you. Smashing jobs. Oh and as for that Doctor Ziao—if he gets in touch again, tell him I almost died and that the only thing that saved me was a giant cup of tea. That’ll give him a headache. Toodaloo!
Namura/Loxley: Response(?)
With that, the short engineer whizzed through the door, and exited the Sickbay quite literally as quick as warp.