[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 |
U.S.S. Theurgy] Attn:
@stardust @Juzzie @Nesota Kynnovan Standing upright was a welcome relief. Between her time in sickbay, and the time she had spent either in a seated or supine position was growing weary. While she respected and would keep her word to Dr. Leux that she would continue to respect the medical instructions she had been given, the opportunity to stand and walk, even if only in circles within her quarters was a welcome change.
Having her staff meet her in her quarters, however, was far less comfortable.
She did not object to visitors, of course. Cross had brought her back to her quarters from Sickbay and helped her settle in before leaving on his away mission. The Duty nurse had come in twice today to check on her condition, and she had taken an appointment with Commander Rutherford just a few hours earlier. But none of those individuals were her direct subordinates. Perhaps it was an old fashioned idea, she realized, but in her mind, the mingling of subordinates and their superiors was governed by certain codes of conduct, one of which was that you did not invite them into your quarters.
This concern is illogical, she told herself.
This is not a social call. It is a staff meeting taking place in your quarters as you are not readily able to traverse the ship at this time.The obvious logic quelled her anxiety, and she continued about her tasks and prepared the table for their meeting. Deciding to try a slightly less formal setting for the meeting she had chosen to invite her staff to her quarters so they might share in a meal while they discussed the business of the department. At the time it seemed a logical choice, one aimed at reducing the stress and pressure of a department already quite busy with all that had gone on. It also seemed an appropriate way to attempt to reduce the tension within her own department. She and Stellan Foster had not exactly seen eye to eye when they first met, and very little had happened in the intervening days to change that status quo.
The table in her quarters would seat the four of them with ease. Hathev was no cook, nor did she attempt to try and be one. Instead she decided it would be appropriate for her guests to avail themselves of her replicator to order whatever they wished. This also had the benefit of further reducing the formality associated with this meeting.
The chronometer ticked closer to 1830. Foster, Williams, and Ashby would be arriving soon, she knew and as she finished putting the last of her things away, she idly wondered who would arrive first.
OOC - Tag to @Ellen Fitz
and @Tae
for the mention of their characters.
[
Lieutenant Junior Grade Amanda Ashby | Deck 10 | Vector 02 |
USS Theurgy]
Attn: @P.C. Haring @stardust @Juzzie When she’d first received Lieutenant Commander Hathev’s invitation to an informal meeting of the Counseling Department, Amanda was a little surprised. While her first impression of the Vulcan Chief Counselor was rather positive and the blonde-haired Martian considered the older woman to be highly professional and a reliable potential mentor, she never expected that her direct superior was even capable of processing the words ‘informal’ and ‘meeting’ in the same context; let alone in her private quarters and especially not less than a week after having met her for the first time. Amanda had been dating Krat for months before he finally invited her to Vulcan to meet his parents, and she remembered only too well how… interesting it had been to spend two weeks with Straal and T’Kol.
Then again, that experience with her parents-in-law had taught Amanda that informal Vulcan affairs were often much more complicated than formal meetings, at least to those unfamiliar with the Vulcan culture. Their concept of an informal meeting came with an entirely new set of unspoken rules and subtle customs other species would never associate with informality, and which would mostly be learned through either trial-and-error, the doting patience of a Vulcan spouse, or extensive diplomatic assistance. In Amanda’s case, she had needed all of the above and, even then, only barely managed to avoid offending T’Kol to the point of making an enemy for life.
Was it because of that experience that Amanda was standing in the corridor, just beyond the corner of Lieutenant Commander Hathev’s door, while continuously looking at the small chronometer in the upper-right corner of her PADD? Pretty much so. Intent on making a good impression, she had even polished her boots and replicated a brand new uniform just for the occasion because, even though she’d only been aboard the
USS Theurgy for less than a week and the recent events had genuinely made her feel more like a Medical Officer than an actual Psychiatrist, the blonde-haired Martian really looked forward to the meeting. After all, thus far she’d only met Lieutenant Commander Hathev and, even though her office was right next door to Lieutenant Foster’s, she had yet to meet him or any of the other Counselors aboard.
Thus, when the chronometer on her PADD displayed 1830, Amanda quickly came around the corner and crossed the short distance to the Chief Counselor’s door within seconds before pressing the door chime.
[ Lt. Foster (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Stellan_Foster) | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring @Nesota Kynnovan @Juzzie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/6/6d/STELLAN-MANFEST.gif)
„And then the replicator materialized a cream pie with enough angular momentum to smack the guy straight in the face.” Stellan enthused, words bubbling from his lips like a babbling brook, skipping over worn-down alabaster. Dark irises sparkling with glee and even just the faintest hints of dew, hanging in the corners of his eyes like spiderwebs in spring. A sharp inhale, followed by much more tranquil respire, making the man’s vocal cords sing in the serene harmony of a placid sigh.
“I swear … I could feel the chill of the cream on my face three quarters down.” Shaking his handsome pate in abject remorse the man was pleasantly aware of the absence of judgment, transpiring from his colleague beside him, across the telepathic ether. Or any plane of perception, for that matter. Despite the blonde’s sedater demeanor, he seemed to be able to appreciate comedy in the mundane as much as the next guy. Or more precisely, the dark haired counselor by his side.
“Poor Yridian. They are famously allergic to dairy.” Which only seemed to elicit an even more joyful reaction from the man, emerging in another effervescent chuckle. After all, it wasn’t quite a death sentence either and there wasn’t really much that could be done to such a face in terms of making matters worse, he judged nonchalantly. But for the time being that would have to be the extent of their joyful bantering with one another – which he had come to appreciate quite fundamentally. Not only did it mean there was actually an individuum on this ship that found him delightful and wasn’t simply composed of photons and forcefields. But also because he felt that it meant Rhys was coming out from under that giant microscope he put himself and his achievements under. Distraction being the mother of all reprieves, after all. This manner of convalescence, however, would ironically have to wait after the summit of
Theurgy’s mind-fixers, in their boss’ quarters, of all places.
Talk about home advantage.
Having rounded the corner to the final stretch of their approach already, the Half-Betazoid’s comedic exuberance preceding them like trumpet fanfares a royal procession, Stellan caught all of his enjoyment in his throat with one last gulp of air, in the mere vicinity of their resident fun-monitor. Catching the last steps of their only female colleague Amanda – aforementioned aside – the brunette twisted his thin lips into a more modest smile, betrothing the blonde with another facet of his overrated charms.
“The Duchess Ashby … the pleasure, the pleasure.” he boasted in a fake British accent, surfing on the tail ends of glee, while bending down slightly with a hand flat to his chest, prompting Rhys to follow his sentiment with a well-placed nudge to the man’s arm. There was still at least an hour of serious conversation waiting for them beyond these doors. Might as well nourish themselves on all the merriment that was left, until it would be deflated like a balloon, no doubt.
Seeing as the flaxen lady was just about to hit the chime as the chronometer hit the exact time of their summons, Stellan quickly intervened by diverting her attention through leaning in with a covert whisper on his scruff-lined lips. “I like your hair today.” he sparked, from the top of his head, taking the time the words took to trickle from his tongue to elaborate on the tangent. “More so than always, I mean. It has a distinctive sheen to it. Did you switch your conditioner?” He added, obsidian orbs tracing the outline of her scalp with his pate unwaveringly close. Letting the momentary blankness of her mental palette sink in, as if an arid desert, before coherent thoughts came flooding back like a biblical deluge. All while time was ticking on like the unrelenting tiger it was. He just wanted for them to be one minute late. One minute. Not out of defiance or some twisted sense of vindictiveness, but just because he wanted to see if a black hole would develop beyond the precipice of that door, where the Commander had been. If reality as they knew it would end, if plans were thrown into chaos.
Sadly – or luckily – however, Hathev’s quarters were still there, as the doors finally DID open. And so was the Vulcan herself.
[ Lt. Rhys Williams | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn:
@stardust @P.C. Haring @Nesota Kynnovan Stellan was chatty. That was very clear to Rhys. Their counselling sessions together had made it clear that this was the case in professional settings. It also seemed true in social ones. He had stories some amusing some not so, but they were all told very well as far as Rhys was concerned. He was pretty content to listen to them. Rhys had quite liked how bubbly Stellan was when he was being treated and now in a more casual situation, he enjoyed it even more.
Rhys found he personally gravitated towards people who were often very different to him. Talkative, socially adept, funny and charming. Stellan was all of those things and Rhys admired those qualities. It was hard to feel negative when engulfed in a vortex of such chirpy positivity.
Rhys watched Stellan’s eyes come alive as he regaled him with a story involving a great deal of mischief, a Yridian and a cream pie. Rhys was fascinated partly because they idea of pulling a trick on someone of any kind is something he would never have been able to bring himself to do. He was sympathetic to the poor Yridian but also faintly amused. It got a chuckle out of him and a small smile.
Rhys followed Stellan a little bit like a puppy. Wide eyed, head cocked slightly to the side and deeply intrigued. However, as they rounded the corner Stellan’s sounds of mirth seemed to die away for a moment in the presence of Lt. Ashby. He then adopted comic formality while nudging Rhys in the arm in order to make him do the same. Rhys was a little uncomfortable with this, but he bowed along with Stellan. He smiled at Lt. Ashby in his usual awkward way but remained quiet for the moment.
Then Stellan did something that made Rhys feel doubly uncomfortable. As Stellan complimented her hair. He shifted a little from foot to foot, wondering how Ashby would take the compliment directed her way. His eyes flicked to the chronometer on the PADD in his hand for a moment, and as it ticked over by a minute, he understood what was happening. He wasn’t exactly sure why but there seemed to be a lot of tension between Stellan and Hathev. Of course, they were drastically different people, but that was not always the cause of difference emerging between people. Stellan seemed to take positive delight in attempting to annoy her. He felt a little disconcerted that he seemed to be involving Lt. Ashby in that. However, he said nothing.
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S.
Theurgy] Attn:
@stardust
@Nesota Kynnovan
@Juzzie
Hathev resisted the urge to check the time when the chime rang. However, such confirmation was unnecessary as the Vulcan was well aware of the precise shipboard time.
“Enter”
The doors parted revealing her entire team had arrived simultaneously leaving her to suspect one of her subordinates had decided it might be humorous to intentionally arrive late. She also had her suspicions about which of her subordinates had been the master mind of this ‘joke’.
Ultimately, though, it did not matter. As this was to be an informal gathering, noting a tardy arrival would not set the proper tone. Even psychologists and psychiatrists were susceptible to psychological factors.
“Greetings,” she offered. “Please come in and make yourselves comfortable.”
The Vulcan moved slowly, still recovering from her injuries.
“Please help yourself to the replicator for your choice of food. I have set out hors d'oeuvres, but if you would prefer something else, feel free to order them.”
She helped herself to a Bularian Canape and settled into her place at the table, waiting patiently for her staff to find their own places.
“Given recent events,” she started when everyone had found their place, “I thought it prudent to hold a more informal gathering than our regular departmental meetings and I thank you all for coming. It is my intention and my hope this will allow us to become closer as a team. With that in mind, please consider the formality of rank to be dropped.”
She paused, momentarily uncertain as to how best to transition into a more free form conversation.
“How have you all been,” she asked. It sounded trite the moment it escaped her lips. But no other method occurred to her in this moment.
[
Lieutenant Junior Grade Amanda Ashby | Hathev’s Quarters| Deck 10 | Vector 02 |
USS Theurgy]
Attn: @P.C. Haring @stardust @JuzzieThe words of Lieutenant Foster briefly caught Amanda off-guard and, as she narrowed her blue eyes ever so slightly in suspicion while she considered how she should interpret them, the blonde-haired Psychiatrist presented the two Lieutenants with a courteous nod in acknowledgment. ”Lieutenants.” As she spoke the seconds ticked by though and, when the young Martian had finally regained her composure enough to realize that Lieutenant Foster was deliberately stalling them, it was already too late; albeit just barely a minute, but still enough to pass as a slight in Vulcan culture.
If Lieutenant Commander Hathev took offense to the fact that they all showed up late, the black-haired Vulcan unsurprisingly managed to hide it well. As the woman welcomed them into her quarters and invited them to make themselves comfortable, Amanda briefly glanced at Lieutenant Foster; half hoping that the brown-haired Betazoid would pick up on her discomfort and that it would rub off on him. When she turned her blue-eyed attention back to the Chief Counselor however, a polite smile immediately adorned Amanda’s face as not to show her discomfort before she began to follow the other woman inside. In a show of courtesy, which Amanda had learned the hard way by visiting her parents-in-law on Vulcan, the blonde-haired Martian held her pace right on the other side of the door and quite demonstratively took off her black boots in the hopes that Lieutenants Foster and Williams would follow her example. It was one thing to show up late to an informal meeting after all, but she quite clearly remembered that her mother-in-law T’Kol had considered it an affront to walk through someone’s home without removing outdoor footwear.
With her boots now neatly placed right next to the door, Amanda turned around and began to make her way to the table as well; following the Chief Counselor’s example by taking a Bularian Canape and settling down in the seat next to the Vulcan woman. ”That is logical given the circumstances.” As she spoke, Amanda’s slightly Martian-accented voice only further accentuated the polite look on her face. ”Thank you for inviting me into your home.” The blonde-haired Psychiatrist bent her head slightly out of gratitude before quickly eating the hors d’ouvre just to have something to do with her hands. For a moment she turned her attention towards the two Lieutenants to see what they were doing, mainly as a force of habit, only for Amanda to quickly realize that she was feeling tense enough already as it was without knowing what those two were up to. She quickly turned her blue eyed attention back towards Lieutenant Commander Hathev again and spoke up once more. ”I am well, given recent events. How is your recovery?” With a small smile to respect the informal atmosphere, Amanda resumed. ”Is there anything we can do to help?”
[ Lt. Foster (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Stellan_Foster) | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring @Nesota Kynnovan @Juzzie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/6/6d/STELLAN-MANFEST.gif)
It did not elude Stellan that his covert attempts at delay, veiled by thick brocade of charm, would eventually be identified as such. But in the grander scheme of the ploy, he really only needed those few random seconds afforded by either of the other officer’s momentary confusion, in order to see his plan come to fruition. And as the curtains of duranium drew back, he blissfully stepped onto the stage, after gladly offering his co-thespians the right of way, potentially adding to the distraction. Finding their audience supporting the room like an alabaster pillar, while appearing almost wraith like in her cold demeanor, attempts at fleeting warmth aside. Shotting Hathev a more than charismatic smile, the half-betazoid filtered in after his colleagues, basking in the air of doubt and suspicion, paired with the sweet sangria of unwarranted guilt and discomfort, brewing in the witches cauldron.
He wasn’t really hungry, but that didn’t stop him from stuffing five consecutive canapes, about a third of the plate offered, in through his thin lips. Letting the divergent tastes marry together in his mouth, before swallowing the mush with a measure of innate satisfaction, his throat instantly fell dry from the sponge-like makeup of the puff pastry, serving as a base for what he could only assume was some sort of intestine. Stepping up to the replicator without missing a beat on the chief’s offer, Stellan tapped the receiver button before voicing his order, leaning in as if conspiring with the machine.
“Beer, lager, cold …” he started out, letting his black eyes trail over to Rhys with a boyish glimmer.
“Make that two?” Not really caring whether Thea would interpret that as an order, or would hold out for confirmation, was of no real consequence to him. After all, replicators did not create real alcohol, but rather a poorly conceived imitation.
Listening to Amanda speak, as if she herself was hiding pointed ears beneath those lush tresses of silky hair, Stellan too cocked a brow in Vulcan fashion, casually retrieving his drink from the materialization platform. He almost felt compelled to follow up his order with an insulin shot, as a preventative measure for all the sickeningly sweet bootlicking, he was about to witness. Ultimately shaking his head in abject delight, however, he made his way over to claim the seat at the foot of the table, right opposite the head, where Hathev was settling her strained physique into. Leaning back casually, in the comfy chair, his dark eyes found their way unwaveringly across the threshold between them.
“As you wish, Hathev.” He replied with a courteous dip of his bottles neck, towards his superior. Working hard to not let the gentle grimace show, building beneath his skin, over what felt utterly foreign in his mouth, like Gorn dick … and it wasn’t the synthol.
The fun part being that he didn’t even need to read her mind anymore, at this point, to detect the faint signals of emotion, breaking through the composed veneer of Vulcan composure. After all, Hathev wasn’t exactly a virtuoso in her species ideology, from what he had been able to glean of her inner workings. Which he could respect, if she herself wasn’t so desperately claiming moral high-ground, all while being so almost pathetically in denial about it. But he wasn’t going to let any of that shine through his pleasant exterior. That kind of honesty was reserved for when and how she’d dare to break her own accord and curiously peak behind the curtain.
“May I ask, however, what recent events we are referring to, which would warrant a more chummy approach?” Stellan subsequently added, appearing not particularly worried about it. Though he did hold if only the faintest of worries that it had been a jab at himself.
[ Lt. Rhys Williams | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn:
@P.C. Haring @stardust @Nesota Kynnovan The tension was so oppressive. Rhys literally felt weighed down by it as they stepped through the doors. It permeated everything, his legs felt like lead and his stomach felt like it was traveling through his body by turbolift.
Things were not improved by Amanda removing her boots as she entered. Was he meant to do that to? Stellan of course did not. Rhys hovered for a moment trying to work out if he should or shouldn’t. From what he knew of Amanda he judged her to be a person to overdo courtesies. Stellan obviously disliked Hathev so he certainly could not trust that following Stellan would be the polite thing to do.
He was partly rescued from his indecision by Hathev. There was no polite request to move footwear, so he judged it safe not to. He had a feeling Stellan would be mentally rolling his eyes at him over this. She did offer some food. Eager to have something in his hand to hide his nervousness he nodded. “Thanks, Commander.” He ate it, it was nice, but he had little enthusiasm for food at the moment.
Stellan with his damnable good looks again attracted Rhys’ attention proffering a beer. Rhys nodded, again not really wanting it, but wanting something to hold in his hands. “Please.” He said softly a plea in his voice. He took the glass in his hand and took his seat. Stellan wasted no time in being Stellan. In a naked attempt to push Hathev’s buttons. He did it in a ‘but I am not trying to annoy anyone’ faux kind of way. Rhys gripped the glass tighter, his knuckled whitening. The Commander intimidated him; most people did. However, he had no strong negative feelings towards her. He adored Stellan for having helped him so much in their sessions. It did not help that she was asking them to be informal. That would be tricky for Rhys who was hyper aware of her seniority, and deeply unconfident.
He responded to her question, “Oh I am fine thank you.” Which was in general true but in the specifics of this situation a lie. Amanda had asked her how she was recovering. Rhys mentally kicked himself for doing the same. He felt he sounded selfish now. He could almost sense the cyclone level eyerolling coming from Stellan.
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S.
Theurgy] Attn:
@Nesota Kynnovan
@stardust
@Juzzie
Hathev noted Amanda’s observation of the Vulcan courtesy. She also noted Foster and William’s disregard of the same. In truth it did not phase her one way or the other as to who did what in that regard. Back on Earth, Triss had often disregarded that custom, save for when she entered Hathev’s personal office. To that end she was accustomed to the inconsistent adherence.
Hathev crossed to the replicator, ordering herself a rosé after Stellan pulled the two beers from the replicator. The sound of his using her name as casually as he had grated on her ears, but oddly she did not detect any spite or anger from him…at least no more than usual.
“My recovery is proceeding as expected,” she said to Amanda. “The medical staff is satisfied with the pace of my healing, as am I. While I will not be exercising at my usual intensity for the foreseeable future, each day is better than the last.”
She took a sip of her wine and helped herself to another Canape. In a few minutes, the replicator would produce another dish of hors d'oeuvres as programmed.
Hathev listened to Stellan’s question and she thought she detected an uncharacteristic hint of uncertainty in his voice. She had always suspected that his attitude was little more than bravado hiding a deeper insecurity and for the first time she thought she sensed a small crack in that venire. An interesting development indeed.
No matter. Now wasn’t the appropriate venue to probe that…even if she wanted to.
“It occurred to me,” she said to Stellan, “that the events of our efforts to stabilize the Klingon empire, were particularly difficult for the crew. Obviously we are expected to be there for the rest of the ship, but given our circumstances as a ‘renegade’ vessel, those of us in the counseling department, do not necessarily have the resources at our disposal we otherwise would. To that end, I thought it prudent to hold this gathering.”
[
Lieutenant Junior Grade Amanda Ashby | Hathev’s Quarters| Deck 10 | Vector 02 |
USS Theurgy]
Attn: @P.C. Haring @stardust @JuzzieIt shouldn’t have struck her as a surprise that Lieutenants Foster and Williams disregarded the courtesy of taking off their boots, especially because the former struck her as somewhat swagger and the latter clearly hesitated about it in the doorway, but Amanda still couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow over it; such a small gesture that could have big implications within Vulcan social circles. Then again, those were Vulcans and it wasn’t her place to judge, especially because Lieutenant Commander Hathev seemed none too bothered by it from what the blonde-haired Martian could judge at a first glance. As such, she disregarded it as well and instead followed the black-haired Chief Counselor to the replicator.
Right after she’d withdrawn her own drink from the replicator, choosing to go on a more conservative and non-alcoholic tour with a glass of iced water, the Chief Counselor spoke up about her recovery. The canape which she’d eaten earlier was dry though, perhaps a little bit too dry, and as she listened to the black-haired Vulcan Amanda stifled a cough and instead presented the woman with a polite nod in response.
Politely nodding; always a viable answer in any informal Vulcan conversation.
When Lieutenant Commander Hathev turned her attention towards Lieutenant Foster, Amanda turned her own blue-eyed attention towards Lieutenant Williams. They hadn’t been formally introduced yet and, as she presented the younger man with a friendly smile, Amanda figured that this could be as good a time as any. ”Hello!” As she spoke, the tone of her Martian-accented voice only further accentuated the friendly smile on her face. ”I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet, Sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Amanda had lowered the tone of her voice as not to interrupt Hathev’s conversation with Lieutenant Foster and, as she spoke, the blonde-haired Lieutenant Junior Grade offered her right hand in a handshake. ”I’m Doctor Amanda Ashby, the new Psychiatrist.”
[ Lt. Foster (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Stellan_Foster) | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring @Nesota Kynnovan @Juzzie (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/images/6/6d/STELLAN-MANFEST.gif)
Stellan basked in Hathev’s attempt of formulating a properly phrased statement without any real substance. A house built of air and fantasy. A mirage, so to speak. It was like a hot spring in an enchanted wood. And while he enjoyed the smoke and mirror game deployed, either as a mechanism of defense itself, or a mere habit of her culture, he could not deny the fascination associated with trying to coax forth that shred of untamed vigor, that resided behind every stoic Vulcan mask. As they were a people known for repressing their emotions, not for the lack of having any. And as a heightened telepath, he could sense the rumblings deep, deep down beneath the surface as if they were earthquakes in the deepest ocean trench. Even with keeping that professional distance from the chief counselor’s mind, as she had requested. He was just teetering on the surface as any sentient person would, only that his abilities in picking up the tremors passively were far more attuned than any one else’s.
At the same time, Stellan tremendously enjoyed Rhys dissolving in a river of pleasantries. All while struggling and flailing about with his internal insecurities, like a deer in white water rapids. He caught himself placing a hand warmly on the man’s forearm. Reassuring, calming, but not in a physical sense. It was more like a motion of telepathic inception. That way it could also easily elude the mere mortals in the room, that didn’t yet have earned the grace of the man’s sincerer side. However, as much as the dark-haired lad had come to value his soothing effect on the troubled blonde, he equally venerated the myriad of ways he was able to get the guy’s ears flushing and heart rate accelerating. Like playing a harp, with so many strings to pull. Only to bring forth the sweetest of symphonies. As such, the mental display of calming affection was merely going to be a primer, for another plunge into cold waters.
And even though he had entertained the idea of making up some silly gamble, about how Rhys and he had waged a bet on whether Hathev would have a Vulcan mating chime in her quarters, Amanda involuntarily presented a far more natural, and believable avenue to pursue. Leaning over slightly, free hand placed flat on his sternum, dark brows rose mannerly over slotted eyes.
“Sir Lord Rhys Kian Williams the third, second earl of Anglesey, knight of the red flag, madame.” he introduced the two with a fake British accent, all while twirling his hand in a figurative summersault, before his abdomen. After all, if he were to read any kind of meaning into Hathev’s intentions of calling this ‘hang’, it was probably to lighten the mood and raise the morale, of those involved in the mental wellbeing of the crew. So, she should’ve been able to grant him at least this little victory in proving his superior approach to counseling people's emotions.
After all, he wasn’t the fish, trying to teach a bird how to fly.
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S.
Theurgy] Attn:
@stardust @Nesota Kynnovan @Juzzie As with all Vulcans, Hathev was a practiced observer of her environment. Her professional training only served to augment that skill and so the interaction between Ms. Ashby and Mr. Foster was not lost on the chief counselor As with all previous interactions, Hathev intuited the sense that Mr. Foster was not taking her, or this gathering all that seriously. Even so, she put it aside tonight as this was intended to be informal.
Which, if she were being completely honest with herself, made Lt. Foster’s overly exaggerated, over the top introduction of both himself and Mr. Williams somewhat humorous in an ironic sort of way and the Vulcan decided she would ‘roll with it’.
“That is quite an impressive array of titles, Mr. Foster. I am curious to know how you came by them?”
The Vulcan pushed a lilt of humor into her voice. As she was Vulcan, there was a high likelihood of misinterpretation. Even so, the response seemed appropriate enough, and given that Hathev now needed to accept her own emotional self, she thought it best to at least make the attempt.
[ Lt. Rhys Williams | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn:
@stardust @P.C. Haring @Nesota Kynnovan The whole informality was going as awkwardly and awfully as Rhys had expected. It was nightmarish hours maybe longer of stomach-churning relaxation and false bon amie with Stellan likely to push things a little too far at every point.
Rhys was so engrossed in his thoughts that it took a while of his subconscious to kick his conscious mind into realising he was being spoken to. He looked down to see Amanda had spoken to him. He took a moment to replay the words in his head.
He stood awkwardly hyper-focusing on his beer or occasionally on Stellan. He was always like this in social gatherings. On the rare occasions he went to them, he hovered around the outskirts pretending to be enjoying himself. On the rare occasions he knew someone, he would stick to them like a terrified puppy. Stellan had recently been fulfilling this role for him. However, this was becoming the subject of regret as Stellan introduced him with a ridiculous title before Rhys could form the words to introduce himself. Rhys’ face went a luminous red both embarrassment and irritation present. Under other circumstances he might have laughed but he was feeling too high strung. It was a good job that Rhys was increasingly beginning to adore Stellan.
“Oh… right yes… um hello!” He moved his hand out to shake her hand almost dropping his bear it the process. He eventually sorted himself out and firmly shook her hand. He smiled back, it was a genuine if slightly panicked smile. “Very pleased to have you aboard Doctor. Ignore Stellan my … faithful retainer. He has a very silly sense of humour.”. His cheeks reddened as he realised that he was contributing with his own silliness. He was a higher ranked officer… just. He ought to be showing some decorum. Rhys in some ways was a first-rate counsellor but had never been comfortable with being a Starfleet Officer. He had run his own counselling department once. Run being a loose term. He always wondered how he had ended up in that position. Someone must have believed in him once.
“Well Doctor, I hope you are settled in, and if you need any help with anything just asked.” He said softly. He allowed a glance at the Commander. Her comments had a hint of humour in them. She was likely not amused herself, but it was almost marking that something that might be considered funny had been said. At least that was how Rhys interpreted it. He relaxed a little. He was still a giant rod of tension but some had eased a little.
[
Lieutenant Junior Grade Amanda Ashby | Hathev’s Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 |
USS Theurgy]
Attn: @P.C. Haring @stardust @JuzzieAs she listened to Lieutenant Foster’s introduction of their colleague, Amanda just smiled politely while she tried to establish an opinion of Stellan Foster. There was no doubt that the man was a skilled Counselor, they worked on the same Vector after all and while they hadn’t really met face-to-face before, the man’s reputation definitely preceded him. Regardless, Amanda simply couldn’t quite place the man on a more personal level.
Lieutenant Commander Hathev stepped in by asking how Lieutenant Foster came by that impressive list of titles, thus sparing Amanda from having to form an opinion right there and then, and it allowed her to turn her attention back to Lieutenant Williams. The man appeared to be friendly enough, maybe a little bit on the shy side, but that somehow made him all the more disarming; some of the best Counselors had shared that quality, and it often helped to make patients feel at ease much faster. ”It is a pleasure to meet you,” As she spoke, Amanda briefly looked at Stellan Foster before deciding to lighten up the mood as well and going with the joke. ”My Lord Williams.” The smile that adorned her face only further accentuated the slightly teasing tone of her voice. Now their Chief Diplomatic Officer, as their host, had made a joke -a move that surprised Amanda, if she had to be completely honest!- Vulcan customs now allowed subtle japes at their gathering. ”Don’t worry, there are definitely worse retainers to keep.” As she let go of Rhys’ hand, Amanda took a sip of her iced water. ”I’ll keep your offer in mind, thank you! How’s Vector three treating you, if I may ask?”
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S.
Theurgy] Attn:
@Nesota Kynnovan
@Juzzie
@stardust
It was an odd sensation for Hathev as she watched the interaction between Foster, Williams, and Ashby. She found it entertaining, refreshing and..yes…fun. Even a few days ago, Hathev might not have been able to appreciate the light hearted off duty humor of her team. She might not have even hosted this gathering.
But if she wanted to gage her people were holding up, she need only observe this exchange. They were doing just fine. Stressed, concerned, yes. But they were doing well and despite their flaws, of which there were many, and despite her own flaws, this department of four was, in its own way, was a family - One that gave Hathev true pride.
The computer beeped, drawing the Vulcan’s attention and telling her the replicator was ready with their individual orders. She stepped back from the conversation and activated the unit, serving the plates to the table as the replicator produced them.
Once the last dish had been set she returned to her subordinates.
“Dinner is served.”
-FIN-