with_discipline | 061

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061 | [Voice]

[In the background, there's a dog barking. The turbulence woke Aristotle. He's not happy. T'Pol's sharing what she has to listen to with you all. :| Oh, and making a request. That too.] Another flood, in close proximity to a weekend. The Admiral's piloting abilities seem to fail rather methodically.

I'm continuing my studies of the floods in the labs. If anyone would care to enter statements on the matter of feeling - or not feeling - a change after such turbulence as we just experienced, it would be appreciated.

[And after a short pause] It seems Perry Dawsey has left the barge. My item no longer seems tuned to him.

[Filtered to Infirmary wardens, after this]

The Marquis seems to be in need of some assistance. The details are unclear, but if Prefect is correct, someone should see to him.

[Spam for the Marquis]

[Aaaand because Iago's good with that guilt thing, T'Pol's been looking for the Marquis. There's no answer at his room, though, so when she does find him, it's in the mess hall. T'Pol stops opposite the table from him, eyes flicking to Renate beside him.] May I join you?

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[The Marquis has not looked at the network much of late, and save to post his own entries or to check for his Inmate -- or annoy random strangers until he becomes bored -- he does not spend as much time monitoring it as he should. He's trying not to hurry and finish eating, however, because he knows Renate does not eat that fast. When T'Pol approaches him, he blinks at her in surprise. However, his mouth is full, so rather than invite her to sit verbally he gestures to the seat across from him.]

[Sliding into the seat, she crossed her legs and settled her hands in her lap, considering him silently for a moment. He did not seem to be in a state of emotional upheaval. He seemed no different than ever, really.]

Your inmate expressed some concern for you, Marquis.

[The Marquis swallowed the food in his mouth and set about cutting another piece of meat with his knife and fork.]

Did he? [And of course he makes the first assumption that comes to mind, and already he is thinking that perhaps he should not have been so lenient.] Madamoiselle I can assure you that regardless of what my Inmate may say when he is annoyed with me, I am not doing him any harm. Clearly, he is sour with me.

[She cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow lifting slightly.] He did not accuse you of violence, sir. It was your well-being he seemed frustrated by.

Is that so, cheri? [He paused to inspect himself.] I could be wrong. [Quirk of en eyebrow] If I were not, would you care for me?

[Yeah okay he's definitely acting like himself. Her face is so neutral it hurts.] I am not a qualified doctor.

[Close. He just knows nobody takes him seriously when he does it.] And what if it's not a Doctor I'm in need of? [He asks with odd detachment, as though his potatoes are infinitely more important.]

[Well that's a little off, and she cocks her head to the side again. It's odd, but she doesn't exactly consider herself well versed in his mannerisms.] If you were not in need of a doctor, you would not need caring for.

You're certain you're well?

Am I ever, cheri? [He finishes the last couple bites of his food and glances down to see Renate has finished hers and is pushing her bowl across the floor.]

Marquis. [She pauses to glance down at the sound of the bowl sliding, and shifts her foot a little farther away.] He was adamant. If he was incorrect, I apologize.

Of course he was, and you've no reason to call him a liar. [It's difficult to tell whether he means that ironically or not.] If you'll excuse me, I had best go and check on him.

[Very difficult. She hesitates a moment, then nods.] I don't believe he was lying. [A beat] Perhaps he was incorrect.

[The Marquis stands a little stiffly and gathers up Renate's leash.] Of course. [He leaves then, not bothering to bus his dishes.]

I'll stop by his room and make sure he's alright.

Thank you.

The Marquis...is he in need of medical or psychological assistance?

Psychological seems to be the likely choice.

God, I've missed so much. I picked a great time to get sick...

[She's not sick, she's mostly been in her room battling her own issues since the last two floods]

It looks like Martha's on top of it. If she decides it's better left to me, I'll do what I can.

[Oh, Libby. :c] Are you ill? [Read: YOU WORK IN THE INFIRMARY LET THEM TREAT YOU IF YOU HAVEN'T.]

Just a little run down. It's nothing to worry about.

I -- hope you feel better.

Thank you, T'Pol, I appreciate it.

Weekend? How the hell can you tell? I don't even know what month it is.

I keep track of the time with my PADD.

So you know what the date is.

Edited 2010-10-10 10:11 (UTC)

October the seventh. A Thursday.

...I've been dead for eight months.

It's possible that when you graduate, you'll be able to return when you wish.

Before I was born?

I believe that's something you'll have to determine when you graduate.

Is that my dog?

He belonged to Sam.

I definitely had possession of him for a while.

When Sam graduated, he asked me to look after Aristotle.

[YOU CANNOT HAVE THE SLOBBER MACHINE OKAY. :|]

[You suck pointy ears]

Can I visit him?

[Low blow. :c Also, pause. Wtf humans and lower lifeforms.]

Very well.

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061 | [Voice]

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loll sorry is way late but I forgot until right now

You loser :c

I've had a long life okay :c

;_;

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