PNPC Lt. JG Erzan Reht - Operations Trill Extraordinaire
Meri
((Operations Office Closet, Deck 4, USS Khitomer))
((OOC- I managed one sim in a drug induced haze. If it's terrible, blame Ras and his bullying. lol))
Erzan Reht’s nose crinkled as he looked about the Operations Office, which didn’t take long as the word office was more than generous for the small closet wedged between Transporter Room One and the Computer Core. As he dropped his small box of belongings onto the solitary desk that took up the entirety of one of the four walls, a puff of dust rose from the surface and he coughed, waving his hand in front of his face like one would to waft away a foul odor.
Reht: This just absolutely will not do. ::pause:: Nope.
He waited a moment in the empty room as if awaiting a reply, but the quorum remained silent, likely just as taken aback by the circumstances as he was. Stepping back into the center of the nearly perfectly square room, Erzan surveyed the space. Clearly it had been some time since the Khitomer had hosted a dedicated Operations Officer, either that or they all remained on the Bridge. Erzan knew himself well enough to know that very little work would get done if he didn’t have a dedicated place to lock himself away from the distractions of socializing. If given the opportunity, he’d gladly gab away the hours of his shift and then bounce off to a lounge to gab some more. No, an office was a necessity. Perhaps if it was only him he could make this drab, cramped space work… maybe.
Reht: Alright, first order of business is to find someone more qualified to tidy this up.
Banks: We could just transport it all into space and start again?
Not used to hearing an audible response when talking to the others, Erzan lept out of his spots with a very manly (not) squeal and spun to face the door at his back. An attractive woman with gorgeous dark hair and impeccable skin stood in the doorway. His head cocked to one side at the same time that the back of his left wrist came to rest on his hip.
Reht: You are wearing red. Command. Are you here to tell me that I’ve taken a wrong turn and am not standing in the Operations Office? Please, by the spots and stars, tell me you are here to tell me this ::gestures to the small room around him:: is a farcical mistake.
Banks: Um.
The newcomer consulted something on her PADD.
Banks: Bad news on all counts, I’m afraid. I’m Ops as well – I’m the HCO all-rounder – and despite appearances to the contrary, according to the deck plans this is not actually a large cupboard. Welcome to the Operations Office.
With a flourish not unlike a proud mother revealing a surprise gathering on joining day, the Ensign, who had not come to save him from his most recent blight, gestured to the room around them as she spoke.
Reht: ::crestfallen:: Well that's disappointing. ::looking around:: I’m not sure this space is meant for two…
He spun in a slow circle dramatically while looking closer at his surroundings.
Reht: Oh galaxies no, is that… yes, yes it is. ::pointing:: I believe there’s a second desk underneath that horrid pile of space junk.
Banks: The horrid pile of space junk is, I think, the former contents of the office? What with the gravity failures we had, this is not the first room I’ve seen that looks like it’s been turned upside-down and shaken vigorously.
Reht: ::under his breath:: They could have shaken this one more vigorously.
Ever helpful, the nameless, red-collared Ensign pointed out a particularly mangled lump in the heap.
Banks: Look, I think that’s the corpse of a chair, albeit in three or four pieces. There’s probably another one in there, if this is a two-person office. If it helps, I have helm duties as well, so I won’t be underfoot all the time.
Bravery befit that of a helm officer overtook the poor woman as she approached the heap of shrapnel and dared to touch it. The slight disturbance was enough to send the debris cascading around the poor girl, landing in a heap all around her and billowing forth a cloud of dust that overtook her slight frame. She was frozen in place and raised her eyes to make contact with his own. The scene in front of him caused the corners of Erzan’s mouth to twitch up every so slightly but he impressively maintained his professional composure…
Banks: ::dryly:: Well, this is fun.
…Until he didn’t. Her words, her tone, and the absurdity of the scene they found themselves in, finally cracked through Erzan’s very thin shell of professionalism and he began to chuckle, and then to snicker, and then her sneeze was the final straw before he fell into all out laughter.
Reht: ::laughing::
Banks: Computer, run standard dust and contaminant removal transporter program for the Operations Office, and add to the regular cleaning schedule.
Computer: Unable to run program. There is no identified Operations Office on this ship.
Banks: ::muttering:: How about the Operations Cupboard? ::at a normal volume:: Computer, run standard dust and contaminant removal transporter program for compartment… ::a pause to check the deck plan:: four-point-two-seven.
Operations Cupboard was the moment that he decided he liked this HCO all-rounder, and though he was paying attention to her very adept problem solving skills, he continued to chuckle and chortle.
Banks: Good. Computer, add identifier ‘Operations Office’ to compartment four-point-two-seven and flag the change for Commander Hobart’s approval.
Something must have caught the woman’s eye because her demeanor changed in an instant and sobered Erzan up. His laughter ended as abruptly as his eyebrow stitched together.
Banks: Anyway! Sorry, sir, no disrespect intended. I’m Ensign Juliet Banks – helm, comms and ops. I’m new on the Khitomer… though, am I correct in thinking you are too?
Reht: Sir? Oh.
Erzan tugged at his pips uncomfortably.
Reht: Here in the ::hands flourishing outward:: Operations Cupboard please dispense with the formality. There is no “Sir” or “Lieutenant”. None of that nonsense, alright? Erm- Juliet?
Banks: Response
Brushing off the now nonexistent dust from his uniform, Reht smiled back at Ensign Banks.
Reht: My name is Erzan ::patts stomach:: and this little guy is Reht ::dramatic flourish:: together we are Erzan Reht, Operations Trill Extraordinaire.
oO We really do hate when you introduce yourself like that. Oo
oO I don’t. I quite like it. Think he’s funny. Oo
oO Thank you, Bill. Oo
The little conversations inside his head had become so commonplace that most didn’t notice them. He might not be the most fun dinner companion for a Betazoid but such was life. This particular exchange took no more than three seconds during which he was casting his signature wide smile in the direction of Miss Banks. Thinking back over the last few minutes, perhaps she had not received the best of his charms and for that he was disappointed but could hardly blame himself. How could one be expected to maintain a bright and cheery exterior in a dingy, dusty, discombobulated work space? No matter. The Ensign- Benks- Juliet, what a pretty name, had fixed it, or at least begun to.
Banks: Response
Reht: Now ::claps hands together:: I believe you had a lovely idea of teleporting everything into space and starting fresh…
Banks: Response
Disappointedly shaking his head, the Trill man made a slow lap around the room. That is to say he took precisely four steps in each direction: first port then bow and then starboard and stern in turn. It really wasn't a very large room.
Reht: No, no, you’re right. Reclamation it is for… well… everything. And then we get to work with our very first proposal.
Banks: Response
Reht cocked his head at her, hands once again finding his hips and tsked. He’d originally been impressed with her intelligence, but that question gave him the slightest pause.
Reht: For a new office of course!
Banks: Response
TAG/TBC