PNPC Lieutenant Jay 'Deacon' Frost - Sea of Sorrow
Martin Tucker
Deaon shifted a bit; he still didn’t feel all that comfortable, yet at least. He was trying to come into this with an open mind, but Frost men rarely, if ever, shared their feelings, even with themselves, let alone with anyone else, so the thought of bringing in a headshrinker was unthinkable. He regarded the Klingon closely; he did have a thing for Klingon Metal and the occasional Opera. But he didn’t want to stereotype either. It was one of the hazards of being an overthinker: playing out every scenario and focusing on the worst-case scenario.
Sometimes he hated how his brain acted; it wasn’t his fault, he was wired funny.
Shortrith: Don't worry, I've done the same before. You're lucky you came in when you did, I had a free moment.
Frost nodded, glad he wasn’t imposing.
Deacon: Oh, good, I figured I might be interrupting coming here without an appointment.
Shortrith: It's good timing, I suppose. Can I get you anything to drink from the replicator?
He thought about it for a moment, and a beverage would be nice. And it was going to be a long day, so coffee it is.
Deacon: Yes, please, coffee, Klingon dark roast, cream, and sugar.
Renaie grabbed their beverages and sat down on a chair opposite a very welcoming couch. A part of him chuckled because, though it was playing into a trope. But the better look got at it, and the fact that he was fatigued from his cardio. He took a sip of his coffee before sitting down on the couch opposite the Ensign.
Deacon: ::taking another long sip of the coffee:: I love this roast, the real stuff is pretty spendy and you can only get a one month out of the Klingon year, and they used the heart of a volcano to run the roasting machine, and they’re munks.
Shortrith: I'll make a note of that. As this is my first appointment with you, may I ask you to tell me a little about yourself?
He knew that would be the first question; it was the most obvious. Deacon wasn’t sure if he really wanted to talk about his parents, but it was going to come up.
Deacon: Well, let's see. I was born in San Diego, California, and was raised primarily by my grandparents. My parents were both in Starfleet. Dad was a security specialist, and Mom an astrophysicist. Their ship was deployed on a long-range mission into the Gamma Quadrant.
He stopped to take a drink of his coffee.
Shorthrith: Response
Jay ran a hand through his hair, he hated talking about it really.
Deacon: …the problem was, six months, it was only six months before they called off the searches and Starfleet considered the USS Arizona lost, with all hands. I believe the ship is still out there somewhere, but I don’t think about it all that often; it’s in the back of my mind, yes.
Shorthrith: Response
Jay finished off the rest of his coffee and set the cup on the table in front of him. He started at the top of his running shoes for a moment before looking back up.
Deacon: So my grandparents chose to raise me. We lived in San Diego for a while, and when I was old enough to join Starfleet, we all moved to San Francisco so I could enroll in the Academy and be close to home. Shortly after graduation, before I went to Search and Rescue school, I got an apartment back in San Diego.
Shorthrith: Response
Deacon: What? Oh, why Search and Rescue? I wanted a way to help people and find those who might be lost. It just felt like the thing to do, ya know?
It was at this point that he felt like he’d been rambling; he hated to talk to hear himself do so. There was a reason he liked the quiet mornings in the armory before anyone else came on duty—that sweet spot between delta and alpha shifts.
Shorthrith: Response
TAGS/TBC
