<Katra Station - Counseling Office>
The receptionist sat behind her desk, and looked up when the computer announced a visitor to the counseling offices. ‘Commander Saxon is at the door’. The Bolian crewmen quickly looked through the appointments and did not see any for the Commander. But it appeared that the afternoon was free of appointments, which would avoid any awkwardness with the senior officer.
Then Dali greeted the commander, “Good afternoon Commander. You are looking quite Commanding today. Are you here to see the counselor? I will be happy to let her know. Or are you here to see me? If so, then I swear I didn’t do it.” She gave Commander Saxon a flirty wink, and then notified Beja of their visitor.
Dali touched the intercom button, “Beja, Commander Saxon is here to see you.”
Beja responded through the intercom system, “Thank you Dali, please see him in.”
Dali walked him over to the counseling office, even though it was only a few steps away. “Commander, here, it will make you best friends with the sehlat.” Dali reached into her pocket, and handed the commander a piece of dried meat. She found that it was a good ice breaker for those visiting the counseling area, to get used to the sehlat cub, who was not that much of a cub anymore.
Beja stood up from her report, and smiled over to Saxon when he arrived, “Hello Commander. It is good to see you. Can I get you anything to drink? Perhaps some prune juice?”
“I was just finishing up my latest report on plpyuS. It appears that they might not be a fan of Klingon Literature. But I won’t hold that against them of course.”
The receptionist to Lt Commander Beja's office was pleasant, friendly, and efficient - clearly perfect for the role she had been assigned.
She was also wholly inappropriate, and Saxon's proverbial collar stiffened at her improper insinuations. Or was that just some self-absorbed assumption from an old, miserable old goat? His beard rustled in repressed indignation - perhaps more at himself - and inched out a brisk nod of acknowledgement, trying not to meet her eyes.
That evasion failed as Dali, as it appeared to be her name as Beja's voice sang over the channel, handed him a small piece of...leather? No, some dehydrated meat; for a moment, he was taken back to paradoxically fond memories of the wilds of some godforsaken, storm-swept wilderness, waiting for orders to advance - the protein combat rations replete with such calorific foodstuffs, before the days of molecular replicators, and protein re-sequencers not yet portable.
He was about to smile at her, against his better judgement, until the vision of a haunted, injured Bolian looked back at him, a nameless casualty of some long forgotten skirmish. Quickly he locked down the emotion, stowed the smile, and looked away to the door towards Beja's inner sanctum. "
Thank you" he said, more quickly than he'd have ordinarily liked, and strode through the doors.
He found the Counselor seated, and her smile was warm and open. Saxon raised his shields. "
Lt Commander" he responded, and held out the PADD with the details of the upcoming delegation.
Well...he had intended to. But the muscle memory was still fresh and its terrible recall on his mind, so what he instead held out, as if proffering such to her, was the leathery strip. John blinked for a fraction of a second for realising with some measure of horror at what he had done, and what it could be construed as. "
I...Well..." he attempted, and then looked back to the door. "
Your Receptionist handed this to me for..." he looked around for the Vulcan feline that had been quite the attraction for so long now. Saxon turned back and waved it helplessly.
