[BACKSIM] Lt Cmdr Quentin Beck - Get Behind Me, Satan
Quentin Beck
((Chief Medical Officer's Office, Sickbay Complex, Deck 10, USS Ronin))
Beck: Ooooh, no. I am not suggesting a one-to-one swap here - since you've been stuck in a hospital behind a desk for so long, I am not convinced you could really handle running a Sickbay on a ship like the Ronin. I have someone in mind to serve as acting CMO while I'm gone - but I'm sure they would benefit from your experience when it comes to keeping the crew together. You'll be Chief Surgeon and serve as their primary advisor - but they will get to make the big decisions and you'll have to go along with it. Think you can handle that, kitten?
He remembered, of course, a tense moment like this was exactly how they had ended up in the same bed together way back when. What he had misread as genuine interest was simply her reacting to his sass and smarm, a fleeting moment where she might have believed he was something close to her equal. How wrong they had both been.
De La Croix: Yes...yes I think I can...handle it that is. Much as it will pain me to do so, I'm certain, proving to you how wrong you are...have been...continue to be about this and everything else....will be so much more satisfying. I'll have my staff begin making the arrangements...advise your Captain I'll need at least four sets of VIP quarters...and then I'll need some place for my staff…
Quentin's face was mostly impassive, his keen eyes locked on her features as she uncharacteristically stumbled over words. There was a part of him that was deliriously proud that he had flustered her so - it wasn't something easy to do, by any means, and it meant he still could, even if he didn't really want to do it. Mostly, it exposed the cracks in her armor. He fully intended to leverage those cracks and make them bigger.
Beck: No staff. Just you.
He almost cracked a smile when she pouted, but he managed to control himself.
De La Croix: Oh I see, not only am I to practice medicine in this poor excuse for a mortuary, you expect me to dispense with my staff? Am I allowed a laser scalpel or shall I just find a sharpened rock? Truly Beckie, why must you always be so difficult?
Beck: Because you deserved to be knocked down a peg or three, Thess. You're way up there on your high horse, which means the fall will be that much worse when it happens. Not if, when.
She stood, eyes boring into him, and actually smiled at that.
De La Croix: When I don't have this grand epiphany about the value of noble self-sacrifice or some other drivel, I promise I will find several ways to show my...appreciation...for this...::she dragged out the word like a knife dragged along silk::...opportunity.
Years ago at the Academy, that sort of promise might have been tempting, if not titillating. But he'd grown a lot since then, knew a lot better who he was now, who he could be - and who he wanted. She was not it.
Beck: Absolutely no thanks are necessary, Lonnie. I will be more than happy to watch the light of the nacelles on whatever ship you're on fade away as they depart once all is said and done. I just hope you learn how to be a little more humble in the future - though I don't hold high hopes for it.
She straightened a little before moving to brush past him, their arms touching briefly.
De La Croix: Enjoy the peace and quiet, Beckie...while it lasts. Do tell your Captain I'll be in touch about my rooms.
He turned only a little to ensure she actually left the Sickbay. Then he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, moving behind his desk and falling into his chair.
Beck: Upon thee, a pox, Miss De La Crocs. Heh.
[End Scene!]
Lieutenant Commander Quentin Beck
Chief Medical Officer
USS Ronin NCC-34523
A238810SA0