||[Oct. 30th, 2009|04:53 pm]
::closes out Ensign Larson's file, adding reminder of next scheduled session to planner::
::leans back in seat to kick feet up on desk, moving eyes from wrist chronometer to door, with a silent plea dropped between...somehow, slow space brings out the need for therapy in everyone::
::of course, half of those 'therapy' sessions primarily consist of sitting and listening patiently to complaints about Command's hurry up and wait tendency::
::looks out porthole to right of desk...well, yes, it would be nice to go somewhere::
::suppresses self-depressing sigh, pulling feet back to floor when terminal chimes to announce incoming call::
::and another, when origin becomes obvious::
Counselor Troi. How can I help you today, Tom?