If ever a nonorganic neck did prickle...
::sighs deeply, laying padd down with practiced forbearance::
::taps comm badge, opening channel in lieu of physical approach for the moment::
Miss Paris, once again I marvel at your ability to be so obviously disengaged despite the presence of more than adequate analytic distraction.
It's highly distracting to me.
::slowly folds arms, registering the complaint with even more disinterest::
I have rank, if you care to remember, Doctor. That means I'm not just an adolescent bored to death by your study topics any longer.
I've already examined Chell's potassium results a dozen times. There's nothing wrong with the man but hypochondria. That's nothing new.
::seethes inwardly, gripping stylus and tapping a steady rhythym on the desk surface::
Perhaps, Doctor, but Mr. Chell certainly isn't the only one of his type aboard Voyager or in your patient roster. Surely you can find something to occupy yourself with until your shift finishes.
::stops tapping, quite pleased with next idea::
Or you could simply call it a day.
::exchanges glances with captainchakotay
when channel closes with an audible click
, offering a shrug::
I guess they never outgrow some things.
::straightens in seat...hates
the seat...to tap comm badge::
::pulls self up hurriedly as well, slamming elbow into armrest in process::
::grumbles under breath...she'll somehow manage to melt annoyance away later before it can be adequately expressed, anyhow::
::damned Ocampan women::
That's not going to work. We...uh...
::pops up from seat at engineering station::
It's my fault. I was doing a routine systems purge and few weeks back and I accidentally lost some...um...vital...records. I replaced most of them, but Linnis, and you, and Ha...Lieutenant Kim, and...well, you weren't here to take scans from.
::flaps hands, offering a pleading look::
I'll get around to it right away. As soon as we find her. Really.
::watches turbolift doors shut, inputting destinations and glancing sideways::
Well, well, Harry...
It looks like I'll have to start up a few betting pools again.
I wonder what Doc said to make her flip her lid this time?
::glares at bulkhead, studiously avoiding looking toward the pilot::
Knock it off.
::thinks, recalling a certain meltdown on another starship::
She could really be upset.
You were the one worried about missing your dinner.
::rubs stomach absently, missing own appetite suddenly::
You think it's about Renara?
I think it's pretty obvious that it's bigger than Renara. Things haven't been good with Linnis for a long time, and being pulled back here is just icing on the cake.
::steps out into corridor as lift stops and doors reopen, offering best friend a reproachful look::
You're her father. You should be able to figure out what's wrong before any of the rest of us.
::checks wrist chronometer, sighing impatiently...six decks scoured, and not one sighting::
::not even the medical lab, her traditional sickbay fallout shelter::
::turns corner, nearly running into someone in the process::
::shakes attention back to basic matters like navigation, skimming a glance up::
Sorry, I'm a little distracted...Megan?
::brushes sleeves off, tipping brows at him.
Or I could be Jenny, wandering aimlessly around the ship hoping to use Megan's sweetness to lure some unfortunate crewman in...
I'm not available and I don't have the time, Megan.
Besides, don't you think that game is getting a little old?
You're telling me. I keep telling her...
::shrugs, tapping foot and taking a quick survey.
So, why the rush? Did Neelix start a fire I'm not aware of yet?