Star Trek: Starbase 777 - counselling-office-02

[D] A courier for QDS dropped something off at Lt. JG. Ferrufino's office. A white box with a blueish-green lid and white string wrapped around it (tied with a little bow) was to be found on Vincent's desk in his office. It contained a lovely Sanchi Oil Lamp Copper, the perfect size to sit on his desk and look pretty and soothing for patients. It's made of 100% pure copper, and is 4.25 x 4.25 x 2.75in and weighed 185g. It was very obvious it wasn't replicated, but was instead an antique restored to its former elegance.

Vince was beginning to regret having taken on two jobs at once to cover his final placement year in psychiatry while also serving as a qualified counsellor. The result had been that his shift pattern was completely and utterly mangled: today he had worked the length of alpha shift late into the beta shift to cover the two posts. Things would undoubtedly be better when he could combine the two in a professional capacity and sort his shifts out himself, but with a year remaining until he qualified as a psychiatrist, right now he simply had to go with what he was given. At times it made him almost consider dropping it all and going back to working in immediate care... But what was worse, the stress of that, or the stress of studying and counselling at the same time? The latter always won. It was at the end of his shift that he tidied everything away in his office and headed out, locking the door behind him and dreaming of heading directly back to his quarters... Having the replicator make a nice spiced Sangria definitely sounded like an ideal way to end the night. It soon became evident that wasn't going to happen swiftly when one of the workers in what served as their reception halted him to say something had been delivered. Pausing by the desk he frowned when the box was handed over to him -- although after a good moment of confusion he realised the possibility that this was part of the Secret Santa that had been arranged. server_divider

20:00

Now intrigued, he matched the receptionist's curious glance before removing the teal lid to see what sat within. It was with intrigue that he gently took the small, candle-like oil lamp from within - trying not to get fingerprints on the polished metal surface. "Oh, muy hermoso..." He muttered to himself as he slowly rotated the lamp around to examine the surface. He had seen little lamps like this before but most of the time they were replicated -- the shine of the metal and the sound it made when he tapped a nail against the side seemed to confirm that this was the real thing. Confirming that the receptionist would keep it behind the desk for him when he returned tomorrow, Vince headed out with a smile; more than content that someone had somehow found the perfect addition to his office that he had never thought of.

[D] Having for over the past week been working non-stop on repairs Dagis hadn't been able to properly thank Vincent for her gift. It was with this in mind that the Ferengi decided to visit him after her shift when she finally got enough free time. And so, she walked into the reception area of the counselling offices in the hopes of being able to catch him for a moment. She spoke to the receptionist to see if he was in, before heading over to his door and knocking the old fashioned way.

It was late into his shift by the time that Dagis arrived. For the last part of the hour he had spent the time finishing up reports and filing away paperwork - counselling contracts, psychiatric evaluations, prescriptions, the lot. He hadn't expected anyone else to show up but considering how his door was always open unless a pre-scheduled appointment was happening then he could hardly send the person away -- nor would he want to considering that for one it was his job to see them, and for two, anything was going to pass the time until the end of his shift. Removing the end of his console stylus from his teeth - chewing on it was such a bad habit - he unlocked the office's doors and called to the person to enter.

As the door was unlocked Dagis was quick to open it and walk into the office with the same neutral expression she usually wore unless otherwise required. "Good evening, Lieutenant. I hope I'm not disturbing anything important. I'd assume not considering that the receptionist told me you were free, so..." The Ferengi was quick to realise she was getting side-tracked, and so she carried on with her intended goal. "Anyway, I just came to thank you for my gift. Properly, in person." She said with the slightest of smiles, with her PADD in its new case lodged under her arm.

His look of curiosity melted into a welcoming smile as he took note of the person who entered, even if that person herself remained mostly neutral. It was with pleasure that Vince beckoned the Chief Operations Officer into his office; having politely stood to welcome her, a slight incline of the head and a gesture towards the chairs to the front of his desk made effort to coax the Ferengi away from the doorframe. "Don't worry about interrupting anything at all, I'm completely free right now - I mean, other than paperwork, but that can easily wait. You didn't need to come all this way in person, I wouldn't want to take any time out of what I'm sure is your own very busy schedule... But it's more than appreciated," he added at the end, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement as he caught sight of the PADD case. "Please, take a seat - if you have the time to of course, sir."

It was only upon the counsellor gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk that Dagis entered the office further as she spoke in response. “This is actually the first free time I’ve gotten apart from sleep in over a week now. I’ll admit, I wanted a change of scenery, and of people to talk to, and you’re the only person I actually know anything about outside of my own department and some people I interacted with during the attack, but I don’t have any reason to talk to them. You, on the other hand, I had a reason to talk to, even if only briefly.” She said with the faintest of smiles returning to her lips once more, before finally taking a seat with a very obvious sigh. It was very apparent by the way she sat that she had been on her feet the entire shift. It was at this point she noted the copper lamp on Vincent’s desk, which she eyed curiously. Any good Ferengi could identify something worth a decent amount of Latinum, and that certainly fit the bill. “Either you’ve recently dusted, or that lamp is new, or both, looking at the rest of your desk.”

It was entirely instinctively that he took note of everything that Dagis said or did - word choice, tone, facial expression, posture. This may not have been a official ounselling session but convening in this office it meant that it certainly had the chance to become one. Senior staff always seemed to overwork themselves and the fact that Dagis openly admitted that she hadn't had a break was a concern in itself - so often people tried to cover it up instead of admitting that they were working well over their hours. At least the fact that it was being openly stated possibly meant that Dagis was a little more conscious of her health than some other senior staff were; something that the others should really learn. Vince all but folded himself back into the chair behind his desk: one leg crossed over the other, hands in his lap and fingers entwined. As Dagis spoke he listened politely and offered an amused smile towards the end before stretching out a hand so he could slowly rotate the oil lamp round, inspecting it. "I'll admit that it's both - the dust was hardly becoming, and the lamp is new. It was from my Secret Santa - I still haven't managed to work out who in order to thank them in person, so that message in the chatroom will have to do." After a moment he sat back again, contemplative for a second before opting to loop back around to what was initially said. "I have to say, it's a pleasure knowing that you would use your free time to come and speak to me - although might I ask why you have such little free time? Do you not follow the standard eight-hour shift pattern, sir? Anything otherwise is unorthodox for your division..."

As soon as Vincent mentioned the fact he still didn't know who gave him the lamp Dagis started opening her mouth to speak, before immediately closing it as he turned the topic back to her shift patterns, to which she lightly sighed. She wasn't usually one to go into anything like this with anyone, so the fact she had started making her question herself. "I used to." The Ferengi admitted, a little more quietly than how she previously spoke, before resuming her regular way of speaking for the next thing she said. At least, until she started getting louder and more frustrated. "I used to, before the repairs were needed. Ever since I came to this starbase it's been relatively quiet, and then it all just had to happen at once. The attack, the Winter Ball. I haven't had chance to actually follow the shift pattern. I've been needed everywhere, my staff are overworked, I've had to divert repair teams to Engineering, and I don't even have an assistant to share the load with! And, I don't want to increase the Eventide's COO's load by dragging him into all of this either." She said, genuinely sounding very frustrated and stressed at this point. She had been managing to hide it all so well, but as soon as Vincent had asked about her lack of free time it's like he switched on the tap. "I barely have time for lunch before someone needs me or... paperwork demands my attention." Dagis added in a slightly quieter tone. There was a very obvious pause before paperwork, and her face suggested she genuinely disliked doing it for some reason, despite loving the gift the Lieutenant had given her.

It seemed like this was going entirely as he had anticipated – well, not anticipated… A conversation being derailed into some sort of emotional topic was practically an inevitability when it came to this office, firstly, and secondly to him in general. It wasn’t as if Vince minded in any way – counselling was what he was here for, and he was hardly going to turn a blind eye to someone who wanted to talk about what had been going on. It did make him wonder, however, if this was what he was forever resigned to; accidentally coaxing people into conversations about their worries and troubles instead of just allowing them to converse in general. It was with complete silence from himself that he let Dagis continue, offering a short nod now and again as a sign of acknowledgement but nothing else. It was interesting to note how the COO’s tone changed with the more she spoke – softly, then louder with the frustration, until eventually falling back into that same quiet again… Or perhaps what seemed like hesitance? It was quite plausible that the Lieutenant Commander had never spoken about this to anyone before, and Vince could entirely understand why. If you complained to the staff serving under you they might feel as though you weren’t suited for the job, if you complained to those above you then they might feel the same… It was a difficult situation to be in and for someone in one of the busiest divisions – and being such a young department head at that – it certainly didn’t seem easy. 777_divider

18:11

“It sounds as though this workload has become quite the stressor for you,” he started once he was certain that Dagis had halted for the time being. “…And the lack of staffing doesn’t help any. I understand that things have been incredibly difficult following the attack; repairs, the ball, and now this conference that we’re holding. Now I’m not in a position to offer entire suggestions, sir, but I would like to ask – have you spoken to anyone else about this? The commanders of the station, or perhaps even the other senior staff… I understand that speaking to others about this sort of thing can seem difficult but perhaps they can at least sympathise or offer some solutions. Counselling is one thing and learning to manage stress is another, but solving the issue at its source would be the most practical.”

The Ferengi listened along with what the Lieutenant said, her thoughts drifting occasionally to what she had just said, before eventually responding after a small pause. "I haven't brought it up with anyone else, no. Frankly, I'm surprised I even told you just now. It's not like me... To talk to people about stuff, that is. What you said, about solving the issue at its source, does make the most sense, but I fear it isn't that simple. Even if I did talk to the Commodore, or Captain, their ability to do really anything about it would probably be minimal. Starfleet is pushed to its limits right now as it is, so finding any relief staff would be a big stretch." Dagis said quite simply, her tone remaining remaining softer for now. "I want to talk to people about it, don't get me wrong, but I just feel like nothing could be done, so why bother anyone else with it? They all have duties they're focusing on, especially with the upcoming diplomatic whatever at PACT. Oh, and don't get me started in PACT. The amount of Ferengi wanting to set up shop here for it, I might as well be in a retail district on Ferenginar come next Monday." She said with a sigh, before quickly realising just what she had said. That was way too close to anti-profit talk for her liking. "Not that I have anything against that, of course. Gotta make Profit somewhere." She hastily added.

Quietly Vince picked up the stylus from his desk and sat back, idly tapping it against his chin as if in thought. The COO was quite right in that fixing things didn't have any sort of easy solution. If Starfleet had the people then surely they would have already worked to re-staff 777 by now - especially considering what had happened in the attack - and seeing how those positions still remained open clearly evidenced how there simply wasn't the people available. Recruitment had been down for years and in the past couple it had remained on a downwards trend; some people had wanted to join up and help to defend the Federation and others had (quite rightfully) felt that Starfleet was far too dangerous of a career option. Then when everything had settled down the fleet had suddenly faced people wanting to drop out of the Academy, Technical or otherwise, because their entire motivation had been war and now there was no point in them staying. Overall it had been quite a shambles. 777_divider

01:59

Either way there surely had to be something that could be done; prioritisation and delegation came to mind, and Vince was well aware that it was something that all new senior staff struggled with. So many of them wanted to take on the workload for themselves and personally do jobs instead of offloading it to the people under their command - they wanted to seem fair, and dedicated... Was it possible that Dagis was the same and that she was taking on too much work for herself? As the COO spoke he regarded her then, mentally making a note to see if he could look up her file. Was she a new member of the senior staff, or had she been in this sort of post for a while? Surely she would have been an ACOO beforehand -- but quick calculations made him wonder exactly how. Dagis seemed too young to have hit COO and Lieutenant Commander already, he suddenly realised... So either she had done something major in a previous posting to earn the promotion, or maybe his knowledge of Ferengi was simply wrong and she was older than she seemed. 777_divider

01:59

"Bringing it up with others may still help," he stated at the end of his wondering. "Even if there isn't something that can directly be done then they may at least be able to offer some advice; providing guidance is what senior staff are there for, at the end of the day -- as you'll well know, sir." The end statement was added light-heartedly, accented with a smile. With that having been said he then turned to the latter part of what Dagis had said; the strange comment about the Ferengi arriving for PACT hadn't gone unnoticed, and she had definitely brought it up for a reason... Even if unconsciously. With Dagis living in the Federation she surely must have a different impression of Ferengi culture than people who had never experienced life outside would have... And other Ferengi might have developed a different perception of her. "You sound a little hesitant in regards to the Ferengi traders coming aboard. I'm aware that there are a few Ferengi aboard the station right now but not too many - it must seem strange, thinking about being amongst so many. Is there anything in particular that worries you about this, sir?"

Dagis listened to what Vincent said, taking in everything slowly and steadily, before mentally flinching at his question about her worrying about the impending Ferengi. "Did I say that?" She asked as if trying to deflect almost instantly. "There's nothing I really should be worrying about... I mean, who wouldn't want to be around a bunch of capitalists that prioritise profit over people and think you're not doing as good of a job as a man would?" The Ferengi said almost sarcastically, sounding more than entirely fed up with everything she just bought up. She sighed after saying what she said, putting her head in her hands as she did. "I came to the Federation to get away from all of that, and to do what I wanted the most without ridicule or a lack of Latinum to do it. I knew what I was getting into when I came to this starbase, and I haven't had any issues so far, but the increase of non-Federation Ferengi wandering about the place just isn't ideal. I have no doubt they're all going to look at me and judge me for being in this uniform." Dagis said, now gesturing to her uniform with both hands as she did.

It was with a smooth "you did," that he replied once Dagis brought up the query of whether she had actually made her statement about the arrival of the Ferengi to the station. It wasn't an accusatory or sarcastic reply, simply... Knowing. In these sorts of sessions you let the service user steer the conversation. If they brought something up then you could guarantee that it meant something important, and all you had to do was let the person talk. And talk was exactly what Dagis did -- the word choice sarcastic, the tone displeased, and even the body language conveying just how unimpressed she was. It was all perfectly understandable. 777's Chief Operations Officer had been living within the Federation which was stated to practically be a utopia, and if she had come here in order to get away from what life had been like before, then the contrast between the two would have been immense. The arrival of Ferengi merchants and traders would seem like some sort of unfair throwback, being immersed in a culture she had tried to leave... It wasn't a nice situation to be put into at all, really. 777_divider

21:04

"So you're worried about the potential for judgement from these other Ferengi," he mused, sitting forwards in his chair slightly and placing his hands upon the desk, fingers interlaced. Fidgeting had always been a habit of his - having his hands held together was one of the easiest ways to stop himself. "Now this is perfectly understandable. No one wants to hear that they're being judged by another person. It isn't nice to know that they disprove of you -- even if you don't know them. It would certainly be more difficult when these are people of your own species and culture - people you traditionally want to approve of you. However..." As he stated the word he stretched out a hand towards the PADD stylus again so he could either chew at the end of it or twirl it between his fingers. It was only at the last second that he caught himself and shrunk back to his previous position. "You yourself have acknowledged, sir, that Ferengi society is... Quite different compared to our own. You come from a culture where certain people are still viewed to be not as capable of others. The people you encounter will have that mindset because they have been taught that way from birth. They might never have experienced what life can be like elsewhere, so perhaps they will have those judgements. Does that judgement from these people - strangers who have not been taught differently - matter, sir, when you know that you are doing the best job that you can? That you can live up to the expectations that they place on your homeworld? Your achievement of a high-ranking position at such a young age is testament to this. You are walking proof that you are perhaps doing better than what Ferengi society said that you could do... And if they do judge you or challenge you for your path, then perhaps you can teach them otherwise."

The Ferengi listened carefully to what was said to her, slowly thinking about everything as she did, until her mind started entirely focusing on the mention of her high-ranking position. Her brain entirely uncontrollably focused on that for a moment, although keeping a fairly neutral face as she did, before snapping away from the thought and back to what was important right now. "You're right." She said, looking up at him again properly now, sounding less reserve than before, with a degree of confidence creeping into her voice as she spoke, as well as her volume slowly increasing. "Why should I care what they think when I know I'm good at what I do, as good as any man, or anyone else for that matter." She said, before standing up as she spoke. "This is the Federation, this is Starfleet, where I can be who I want, and do what I want without judgement. If they judge me, it's their problem, not mine."

"Precisely," was what he stated in reply, quite happy that Dagis had managed to come to the same conclusion. Oftentimes - and often in counselling sessions which had been organised in advance for ongoing issues - people couldn't come to that conclusion at all. In client-centred counselling (which he had come to despise) you couldn't even push that person towards a conclusion, they had to find it themselves. Sometimes in order to resolve a solution or worry a person simply needed a gentle nudge or some reassurance, and having to steer directly away from that hadn't felt right at all. "Their own opinions are their own opinions, and those will always be formulated based on a different culture and understanding than our own. What matters is that you know otherwise; as you say, this is the Federation, and you're more than free to be who you want, to do things differently than what they might have done back home. And remember, sir, that any insult made to you wouldn't be put up with here. Starfleet have a no-tolerance policy for that sort of thing, and I'm sure one of the merchants would much rather learn differently and learn to respect you than find themselves thrown out of PACT for being foolish."

Dagis nodded along to what Vincent said, listening intently as the man spoke. Despite it all being so obvious if you thought about it hard enough, the Ferengi felt reassured by what he was saying. "Especially if they're here to make money." She added. "Any Ferengi would much rather shut up than lose an opportunity to make Profit." She said with a chuckle, before giving Vincent a rather genuine looking smile. "Thank you. Everything you said is honestly really obvious, but sometimes people just need to hear it and feel reassured, and I'm apparently one of those people."

"Oh, you need not worry, sir; the majority of people are 'one of those people.' Sometimes we just need a little help to find a conclusion that we were already aware of, we just couldn't see it at the time." He spent a second regarding the senior officer, quite happy that her mood had turned around... Well. It had been seemingly fine when she had first shown up but obviously there was more under the surface, then things had declined, but now she seemed more happy again -- and that was what he was here for. "Is there anything else that you would like to talk about while you're here? That isn't to say that I'm trying to get rid of you, of course not," he paused for a moment, offering a light chuckle. "But you've spoken of how busy you are, and I would hardly want to keep you from what precious free time you have."

The Ferengi once again nodded in response to most of what Vincent said. However, she stopped nodding when he asked if there was anything else she wanted to talk about, pausing entirely to think, practically staring off into the distance while she did, before eventually responding after what was quite a decent pause. "Umm, nothing that I can think of. Well, nothing has specifically come to mind that would make sense for me to speak to you about. Not right now, anyway." Dagis responded honestly, although it did seem like she had to properly think about her response before speaking.

He watched with his head tilted ever so slightly to the side as Dagis contemplated... Whatever it was she was thinking about - trying to think of something else to bring up, the fact that she didn't have anything else to bring up... Vince didn't mind the silence, and so he was happy to sit there and wait. "That's quite alright -- but to let you know, sir, if there is ever something that you would like to speak about then you can contact me at any time. I know that sometimes it's a little difficult to find the ability to speak to someone about what's plaguing you, but now and again it's good to not struggle through it alone. The door is always open should you want to talk."

Dagis nodded in response to what Vincent said, a small, soft appreciative smile appearing on her face. "I appreciate it, Lieutenant. And I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me today. Genuinely. Besides, if this was on Ferenginar I'd have to pay you who knows how much Latinum for this." She joked with a chuckle. "I'm glad I came here." She added. Was she referring to his office, or the Federation as a whole? There was no way of telling. "But with that being said, I should probably head off." The Ferengi said, before turning towards the door to leave. She paused, and turned back to look at Vincent briefly. "Until next time." She said with a smile, before finally heading out.

Georgia had eventually made her way down to the councelling office, a place she hasn't been at in years. This was going to be quite an interesting thing for her, seeing she hasn't exactly talked to anyone - next to her friends and family - about her feelings in a long time. All she could do was hope that the councellor assigned to her was experienced enough to help her. She stood there for a moment, hesitating before eventually chiming the bell of the office.

Funnily enough it was not from within the office that Vince emerged but rather from the doors of the reception, slowing from what had appeared to be a jog as he entered the reception area. Running late was something that he wasn't proud of but he had gotten held up within the medical bay: the aftermath of the explosion on the promenade had taken all of his time -- not that he was even supposed to be there, but considering how short staffed they were within sickbay he couldn't not help. "I'm so sorry for being late," he stated as he strode over, offering a sheepish smile. "The door is unlocked so please, go ahead -- I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

She turned to the councellor with a soft smile, not being upset by his late arrival in the slightest. People had lives, if you were a little later, so be it. "It's no problem, Councellor. It happens to the best of us." She said with a quick grin before walking into the office.

The lights to the office immediately flickered on as they walked in, the lighting set to more of a golden hue instead of the glaring white lights that Starfleet often favoured. With one hand he gestured towards one side of the desk with the choice of taking either the left or right chair -- was there some sort of psychological aspect to which one you chose? Who knew. He paced round to the other side of the desk to take his own seat, pulling the chair backwards from the desk as he spoke. "Please, take a seat. This is your first session of counselling in quite some time, is that correct?"

She looked around for a moment with a smile on her face as the lights went on. It really did give a cozy feeling to this entire office. After the gesture, she picked the chair on the left and sat down, placing her hands in her lap as she looked at the councellor. "Thank you." She said as she sat down. "And yes, it has been quite some time since I've been in a place like this."

"I know that going back into counselling - even if just for a single session - can be difficult when you've gone for such a time without attending," Vince stated as he slid into his own chair. He sat back, crossing one leg over the other. "I want to reassure you that this session is entirely confidential and the only time I would need to advise someone of the contents of what had been said was if there was an indication of any form of harm towards yourself or someone else. You're free to talk about whatever you would like and this conversation is entirely driven by yourself; if you want to change topic then you can do at any time, and more importantly you can stop at any time, no questions asked. With that in mind -- is there anything in particular that you would like to speak about today?"

She gave a nod, indicating she understood the explaination. It was pretty obvious stuff, but she was still grateful that the councellor explained it. After a few seconds of thinking she finally spoke up. "You are familiar with the Dominion occupation of Betazed, yes?- of course you are, it's basic history history." She muttered the last part to herself before continuing. "Well, my chief and assistant chief are both members of the species that played a role in that; a Jem'hadar and a Cardassian. And I don't know how long I can keep taking orders from them because I absolutely don't trust them. As much as I'd like to, I just... Can't." She went quiet for a while, looking at her hands for a moment before looking back up to Vincent.

The Dominion War was one of the most well-covered historical (but recent) events which was taught at the Academy -- even those who hadn't paid much attention in history classes could still identify the Dominion's taking of Betazed to be one of the most pivotal (and darkest) parts of the war. While the Federation had later come to form an alliance with both of the major powers involved, even to the extent of the formation of the Allied Fleet Service, there were still many who had lived through the war or at least felt its impact. For a moment he chewed on his lip, contemplating and putting two and two together: the senior officer's Human name had been misleading but the dark eyes confirmed things. "I understand that on Betazed the society is well known for being welcoming and forgiving," he started, "but also that a lot of fear remains. The Federation may have taken steps to help reform and change Cardassian society and may have allied with the Dominion but it is not as if history has been erased, is that correct? People's suspicions and fears naturally remain. To be working under officers who you have been taught to be wary of must be difficult -- are they at all aware of your feelings and concerns regarding this, sir?"

She nodded. "That's quite correct, yes. I haven't forgotten what happened, even if I was only two years old at the time. It's easy to forgive, but not to forget." She sighed and rubbed her head a bit. "If it's of any comfort, no, I didn't tell them this. They don't even know I'm here to begin with- And I'd like it to keep it that way. They don't need to know that their advisor doesn't trust her superiors fully."

The man paused for a moment, contemplative. If the sigh and the idle rubbing of her forehead didn't convey how troubling the Lieutenant found this then her wording certainly did. Vince sat forwards a little, twiddling his thumbs together as he mused over the case. "...The issue is, sir, that firstly - you deserve to be known. Every officer has the right to be part of the team and be able to seek guidance when required. There is the possibility that they try to check up on the likes of your work and then you have to speak to them directly, involuntary, and without any form of warning. The second issue is that these two officers are their own people and should not be characterised solely by the past of their species - one that they may not have taken part in." Another pause, and then; "do you think it may be worth it, sir, to take some time to speak about these concerns to them? I know it wouldn't be easy, but this would be in your own time and on your own terms -- giving you time to prepare what you would like to say, and to prepare your emotions beforehand. Perhaps it would be worth speaking to them in some sort of neutral meeting where you can explain your concerns and perhaps they could offer some sort of reassurance -- that their people may have done bad things, but their societies have changed and that they, personally, are no part of this past?"

She nodded and sighed a bit. "I know- I know they aren't responsible for the actions of their species. And I know that the possibility of needing to talk to them is there. But that doesn't bother me. It doesn't bother me to follow their orders or to talk to them, but I've been raised with the knowledge to be weary of them, to not trust them. It's hard to separate those two conflicting ideals." She leaned back in the chair slightly, rubbing her forehead for a moment. "The problem doesn't lie with them, it lies with me. The people they represent is the issue. I want to trust them, but I can't. Especially the Cardassian seeing he's a liaison officer, who knows what his agenda is?"

There was silence for a moment as Vince contemplated exactly what would work in this case. The fine line between the two officers not deserving to be feared solely because of their species and the reason they were feared due to societal behaviour was a very thin one. Hill was hardly the first to present with this sort of issue and no matter the change in political stances or the passage of time you often found societies still holding that fear -- Earth still had a painfully strong fear of anything regarding genetic engineering and augmentation being applied to people, for example. "I understand where you're coming from. People are complex creatures and it is always hard to know their motives - and this is exacerbated by a mistrust of their species as a whole; something which is not down to xenophobia in your case, but simply due to the teachings of a society still trying to recover. I do still advise speaking to them in a neutral setting and on your own terms, as perhaps speaking with them may give the two an opportunity to offer you some reassurance... And if you were willing to commit to a course of counselling sessions, sir, then I believe the likes of cognitive behavioural therapy may be of benefit to you. It focuses on altering learned behaviours - often unhealthy or destructive ones - and aims to change these thought patterns or behavioural structures into more healthy ones."

She shook her head at the offer of cognitive behavioural therapy, sighing internally. "No, I'm not going to do that. Two reasons: one, this isn't destroying or harming my sanity. And two, it's more of a sense of worry than anything else." She said as she looked at the councellor with a look that basically shouted determination and dedication behind her decision. After letting the silence settle for a moment she spoke up again. "I'd be willing to give talking to them a shot, but it's only a question as to how they'd react. I'm not looking for any trouble, obviously. And I fear that if I do talk to them about it I might get relieved of duty because I'm not trustworthy enough or some other vague reason."

It seemed that the main suggestion that he had been going with had been shot down rather swiftly. He did understand why - even in a time where there wasn't a stigma surrounding therapy any more, a lot of people were still hesitant about it. For many it was less about the stigma and more about the fear of exploring their own thoughts and feelings. He would never force anyone into counselling (for when you did it was ineffective until they started voluntarily participating), but the Lieutenant's downright denial was a little concerning. "I understand that you wouldn't wish to proceed with the likes of any sort of therapy sessions, ma'am - but you have expressed that you feel you can't keep going on like this. This 'sense of worry' as you say is still an emotion, and continued worry over something doesn't do a person any good. I would never force you to attend sessions, but the option is always there if you change your mind. As for the rest..." He tapped a nail off the surface of his desk a couple of times, thinking. "It is their job as senior officers, sir, to hear out the concerns of anyone under their command. If they are in a position of leadership then they should be able to face the issue with at least neutrality -- and vague reasons are not enough for being relieved of duty. They wouldn't be able to lawfully do such a thing within contract for serving officers."

She gave a nod at his first statement, but didn't say anything else. She just wanted that to be over with before continuing her session. "Believe me, Councellor. There've been people who have done more for less. The risk is always present." She said clearly, yet steadily. She hadn't experienced it first hand, but she heard stories. A lot of them even. "I'll bring it up with them, and we'll see if I need a session or not afterwards, ok?"

"Of course," Vince replied and gave a brief nod, taking the firm tone to have been final. He wasn't about to argue with any senior officer, and besides, people were allowed to say no. "That sounds like a good idea. And I am aware that there are some horror stories out there, but please know that we have quite solid rules and structures regarding the removal of an officer from duty now. If they did try anything untoward then we have crew aboard who work within officer resources who would easily look into the case for you; in other words, sir, there are people on your side. ...But here's hoping that sides are not required."

"Yeah, here's hoping." She said with a gentle sigh, laying her head in her hand for a few seconds. "I really just hope all goes well to he honest. First tactical officers get a ban on alcohol, now this combined with the fact I'm learning my daughter how to control her empathic and telepathic abilities. Seems I can't catch a break."

He merely watched as the officer set her head into her hands briefly, his own expression folded into that of concern, brows furrowed. Counselling Starfleet officers was so difficult. In general counselling you weren't meant to offer suggestions and solutions and instead let the officer come to their own ones, but within the work place what else could you do? Half of the time counsellors were bordering on becoming officer resources staff. The issue came when the officer didn't come to their own conclusion or take one of the suggested ones. Hopefully talking with her heads of departments would offer some sort of reassurance for Hill, but if it didn't and she didn't want to go for any further therapy then Vince hardly wanted to see the woman stuck. "It sounds as if you have a lot going on at once, sir; helping your daughter, dealing with the discomfort of working under the department heads, general stresses of being in Tactical... Do you do anything to help to balance all of this out? Have help from any others, or find ways to relax and get away from it all, even if for a short while?"

"You haven't had any kids, have you? I've raised two of the most chaotic toddlers to have ever exsisted whilst working at Starfleet HQ. Balancing it all isn't the issue, trust me. Just a day in the life of a mother." She said with a soft laugh.

He offered a mock grimace at the mention of 'chaotic toddlers' but ended it with a light chuckle, quite glad to see the officer's at least slight change in attitude to a happier one. Family, evidently, was more of a pleasure than it was a stressor. "I do not have children of my own, no; but if my brief time looking after my niece and nephew have taught me anything it is that you have quite the job. As long as you still have time to yourself, that's what matters - and I'm certain your children are appreciative of the work that you put in. Dealing with the downsides of growing up in general must be tricky, never mind with the addition of empathy and telepathy."

"Yeah, it's quite a lot. But when the kids hit the hay, I usually tend to grab a wooly blanket, a good book and a fine glass of wine and just sit back and relax. Still do that sometimes, including the wine, but don't tell the chief I said that." She said with a small grimace before leaning back in her chair, looking at the councellor with her usual smile. "But yes, you're right. The Betazoid genes the two have are more trouble than I thought they'd be, and that's whilst they aren't even 100% Betazoid. I can't imagine what my own mother must have gone through."

"How you relax should be up to yourself, not for another officer to dictate," he mused, "but either way - your secret is safe with me." At the mention of genetics he had listened intently, having been wondering about it throughout. "I have to admit, sir, I was curious regarding your own species. Your file noted you to be Betazoid but your name is distinctively otherwise. I presumed that your partner must be Human, which would explain your surname. If you were born on Earth then it would explain your first name, but as we've discussed your upbringing was within Betazoid culture." He sat back, offering a friendly smile. "You must be an enigma to the people who you meet, sir."

"Well, truth be told, my name wasn't always Georgia Hill, no. When I met my husband, there were some tensions between him marrying an alien and his parents. So, I decided, to hopefully ease his parents, to change my name fully Human. I never really like Betazed culture and customs anyways, so it's not like I lost anything by doing so. But, if you're curious, my old name was Gerana Jolke." She said with a smile towards the councellor. "More than you can imagine." Was the only thing she said towards his last comment.

"It is often hard to imagine that some people are still wary of the culture of other species - especially Humans, considering how Earth plays host to so many different species now. At least you were able to appease them though, no? How do your children find it?" He then enquired, quizzical. "Were they brought up with a combination of both Betazoid and Human culture or just the latter? I'm aware that for a lot of people the difficulty in raising children who are hybrids - or being a hybrid species themselves - is being able to find that balance and not shun the cultural identity of one side of themselves."

"My children don't really mind to be honest. They know my old name, they know my new one. My side of the family calls me Gerana, my husband's side calls me Georgia. I really don't mind." She said with a slight chuckle. "As for raising the kids, I let them roam freely in that regard. My husband and I taught them the basics of both, if they want to know more, they're free to ask. My youngest is especially interested in the Betazoid side, my eldest however prefers Human culture. I can understand why, to be honest." She said with a smile.

It seemed evident that the officer was quite willing to speak of her family with openness. It was good to see that they weren't just some form of additional stressor on top of the issues she was having with work. People winding up having their family as 'just another issue' and ending up treating them poorly and having a strained relationship with them may have been less common nowadays but it could still happen, but with Hill here it seemed to be the opposite. "It sounds as though you put a good amount of work into ensuring they have an experience of both cultures - and giving them the choice instead of forcing anything upon them would be quite beneficial. I'm sure they're appreciative of what you do, even if it does take a lot of work," he then added at the end with a hint of amusement.

"I really do hope they are appreciative of what I do for them. Micheal and I wanted to give the kids quite a broad and explorative youth. If they had questions, they could ask. If they want to experience something, we'll try and provide that experience- within limits of course. You shouldn't force anything on a child in my opinion, it will do more harm than good in the long run." She said with a slight grin as she leaned back in her chair, laying her hands in her lap, folding them together.

"I'm certain that there are a few parents out there who could be doing with taking a leaf out of your book, sir," he mused in return and offered a smile. "You are quite right in that forcing interests and other aspects upon a child isn't exactly beneficial. If they aren't interested then they aren't interested, let them explore other avenues instead... The alternative just ends in disgruntlement and no one wants that. ...You mentioned that you're currently teaching your daughter to control her telepathy and empathy, which implies that she's aboard with you. Does your partner and other child stay here also, or are they elsewhere?"

"Micheal and Jordan are back on earth, where I asked them to be. Know that I care deeply for them, and that's the exact reason I want them there; I want to keep them safe. The recent bombing on the promenade alone is proof of that it's not safe here, not fully at least. My husband and child both understand that decision, Jasmine is here because she needs proper training, otherwise she too would be back on Earth." She said calmly, looking at the Councellor with a slight smile. She obviously didn't like talking about it.

The counsellor nodded slightly, brow furrowing a little at the change in tone. The Lieutenant's smile still remained but it didn't take a Betazoid to pick up on the slight changes -- and he completely understood. Raising children in Starfleet had always been a difficult concept. You didn't want to split up a family, but you also didn't want to put anyone in danger... It was an issue that too many families faced. "I understand that must be a difficult choice; effectively splitting the family to ensure you are all in positions that you require. Do you manage it okay? Being away from the others?"

"Yeah! I call them daily, have a chat with them. Sometimes I send them a quick letter during or after shift. Micheal and Jordan are a good match for one another, sometimes I'm even surprised they ask for my help with some things." She said with a slight chuckle. "But yeah, I manage." She smiled at the councellor.

"As long as managing is a good thing and it isn't code for 'I am only just scraping by,'" he mused and offered her a slight smile. "Hopefully this training with your daughter goes well - and with any luck, sir, your talk with the heads of Tactical will be the same and stress from work can decrease too. No one enjoys having to worry all the time or have such stress arise from something that you shouldn't be taking home with you. I hope that soon, that issue can be resolved for you."

"Lots and lots of hope, now to actually get it done." She said with a slight chuckle. "Anyways. Do you want to know anything else about me or...?" A genuine question, she was actually curious if the councellor wanted to know anything about her. Albeit relevant to the session or not.

"It isn't down what I want to know," he advised, sitting back in his chair and placing his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs together. "It's about what you want to talk about. This session is for you to bring up whatever you would like -- just because a conversation has derailed it doesn't mean that you can't change it," he added, offering a reassuring smile. "A counselling session is for you to lead in whichever direction you would like."

"I mean, I get that, but the last mental evaluation included a lot of questions from your side of the room. So since then I just ask if councellors want to know anything about me." She said with a shrug. "Saves time."

"Ah - well, this isn't any form of mental evaluation. One certainly hasn't been requested by anyone, and as far as I was aware you had just requested an initial counselling session. We can turn that into a full psychological evaluation if you would like," he mused and offered a joking smile which contrasted from the slight frown of confusion a moment before. "But otherwise, there's no need to drag you through a whole question and answer session."

"Right!" She said with a nod and a soft smile. "Well, if that's all. I suppose I'll have to get back to my quarters. I need to cook dinner and everything." She said with a soft chuckle. "Kids at age 12 to 16 never stop asking for food, trust me."

"I certainly won't keep you from attending to that," he mused in return while standing to show the officer out. "I would hate to create any sort of upset for keeping you too long. I hope that your speaking with the heads of Tactical goes well - and if you ever wish to speak about anything again, the door is always open."

She gave a nod and a warm smile as she got up. "Thanks again, councellor. I appreciate you making time for me." She walked towards the door, gave a quick wave and walked out.

He walked to the door of the counselling offices and chimed for permission to enter.

Vince had been given the heads-up by reception that there was someone there to see him -- well, not him in particular, but just one of the counsellors. With his colleague running pre-scheduled appointments and himself running walk-ins today Vince had hoped that this would be a relatively quiet day, but instead things had been quite busy. It wasn't a surprise when the call came through to say that there was someone else who wanted to speak with a counsellor, then, and as such he had the computer unlock the doors to allow this person to enter while he stood to greet the newcomer.

He entered with his back straight and almost at attention basically, He did Not want to be here, he would have just as happily gone and did fire watch for a week straight before he did this. But his counselor back on earth also said that he had to do it so he might as well kill two birds with one stone. He was wearing light grey civilian clothes and the same dark leather jacket as he had been in Rana's bar since he had come straight for there. "I uh... Lieutenant Whidbey wants you to sign off that I am fit for duty." He said awkwardly, unsure of how to explain why he needed to be here

He hadn't had much chance to head over and greet the man - Vince had halted in his steps when he noticed the newcomer's awkward lingering in the doorway, already realising that this was going to be one of those sorts of everyday, voluntary counselling sessions. Quite frequently he found different senior officers taking those under their charge off duty and then having them undergo the likes of psychological evaluations before allowing them back on. That was all fair and well, but those division heads could give the counselling staff a heads up of exactly what was going on... And what a lot of people didn't realise was that counselling had to be voluntary. Forcing someone to go and tick the boxes to get signed off was all fair and well but did therapy actually work unless you voluntarily wanted to be there and were willing to contribute? No. From his position stood behind his desk he offered the man a reassuring smile - the least he could do to combat the man's awkward lingering - and gestured to the chairs to the other side of the desk. "Then by all means - please, take a seat, and we can discuss you being signed back on duty. I'm afraid I haven't been informed of anyone being removed from duty for psychological reasons so please forgive me when I say I'm not up to date with your case, Mister..." He paused, prompting for the man's name - he couldn't even get the rank considering the person was in off-duty clothing.

"Weber, Ensign Weber. Sorry." He said in the same awkward manner as he moved to the chair and sat, his back still straight, basically in the sitting form of attention as he sat there. He Hated doing these damn meetings, he was fine, all he needed to do was go work, get a single whiskey from the bar, and then go to his quarters where he could be himself and not putt on this show of being some Fleetie, he could go and speak freely without having to worry about giving up to much information, he could write down stuff without having to worry about writing something that would get his superiors attention. He already had enough problems with Whidbey as it was. Being one of 'those people'... "I was just relieved of duty today. I just want to get back to work." He added after a second.

In contrast to Weber's very stiff stance Vince all but folded himself into his chair, one leg crossed over the other and hands placed neatly upon his desk, fingers interlaced. It didn't take much to tell that Weber didn't exactly want to be here - the joint combination of being both incredibly stiff and awkward at the same time spoke volumes. Vince completely understood. For so many people there still remained some sort of stigma about counselling and if you had just been relieved from duty on the basis that you supposedly required it then naturally you would be angry. He couldn't blame the Ensign for that, not at all. "As I say, unfortunately I haven't been informed in advance by Lieutenant Whidbey of the details surrounding you being relieved of duty. We'll have to go without his side of the story for now -- so would you like to tell me what happened and why he's relieved you from duty - from your own perspective, that is?"

"I think... I..." He started and paused, this went against everything he had been taught, you don't talk bad about your bosses, you just work through it... "I do not believe he likes the fact I do not like being with people, I am always doing my job and then going to be alone... I... I do not think he likes the fact that I just want to do my job and nothing else..." He said awkwardly, stammering through some bits as he fought mentally on what he should say and what he shouldn't. "I really could care less about anything. I just want to work..." He repeated, he needed to drive that home. He was fine as long as he was working, it gave him an out to the memories, he could just think about work and eventually he'd be in a the usually peaceful void of sleep

"Interaction and having a life outside of work is important," the counsellor replied, regarding Weber with a gaze that seemed perfectly normal - concealing the continued analysis beneath, picking up on the way that the Ensign all but fought through his words as if trying to decide exactly what he wanted to say... Or what he was meant to say. "But at the same time, what a person does with their free time is up to themselves, no? A person preferring to keep their work and social lives separate is perfectly acceptable - although difficult in Starfleet. The decision to be alone outside of work is hardly reason to relieve a person from duty. ...Has something else happened that would make him overly concerned about this, Ensign?"

"It could have been the general context of the conversation I guess sir." He said with a little more firmness and less awkwardness to his tone. He tried to push that 'those people' comment away as to avoid having negative feelings towards his boss, he didn't need enemies. He needed to just get to work, get work done, then go be alone. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he thought "I... not that I can tell, I guess he just doesn't like how I work." He said with a shrug, he really didn't need this, it was a waste of both the counselors time and his own, his only solace in the hellhole was being able to work and do something. And now that was gone, snatched away from him on the basis of him needing to speak to a counselor

The counsellor was quiet for a moment, contemplative. From his previous interaction with Whidbey he had gathered that the man cared deeply for his officers. Surely him relieving this Ensign from duty would have been for more of a reason than that the Ensign liked to be alone. Vince was certain that there was more to it -- but finding out what else was included was going to be the problem. If Weber was reluctant to talk then they could end up being here for a while. "It can certainly be difficult trying to adapt to how someone runs a department - especially if they don't do things the same way as you. It's your job as an officer under a person's command to try to integrate well enough that you can work with the others on the team, and it's the department head's job to be flexible enough to accommodate the different personalities and approaches of different people. Do you think that he feels as though your preference for being alone is getting in the way of your work? Do you feel as though it's getting in the way of your work, Ensign?"

"Personally I feel like it ensures my work is done right sir." He said firmly, no hint of awkwardness was present as he said that part. If anything, he felt it made his work better, he didn't need to balance friendships with others that could cause problems with his work, which made everything easier. "As for how he feels, I think he feels that my preference for being alone is going to cause problems for everyone because they will not trust me." He said with a scoff as he finished "I have more experience with weapons then probably Whidbey does himself. Albeit a few hundred years in design." He added with another firm tone

The counsellor listened to the Ensign's explanation. It was evident that the mood was quite rapidly shifting: what had started off as the Ensign being seemingly fed up had now ended in him conveying his disdain in regards to Lieutenant Whidbey. This had taken a step in the right direction. While being angry wasn't exactly fun it meant that the Ensign was conveying his emotion properly - and was beginning to talk. They may well make more progress than he had initially thought. In order to keep them talking he was keen to acknowledge what Weber thought of Whidbey's view -- but that end comment was definitely something that they were going to come back to. "I can understand that building a rapport and relationship can help to establish trust - but as you mention, experience is also something that can highlight why a person can trust you. I can completely understand that you feel you have more experience than the Lieutenant does, which naturally you feel should mean you are entitled to that trust more than he is. Both of you have different views that meet in the middle: you both want to establish trust." Vince paused for a moment to mull over the latter part of the Ensign's statement. It had been somewhat unrelated and in counselling, something like that stood out. If someone brought something up then you ran with it -- it was how you got to the root of the problem... And Vince had developed a knack over the years for making it seem like he was integrating the new topic into the existing conversation instrad of him chasing a lead. Although, you mentioned that your experience is with older weaponry. You did use the latest equipment at Starfleet Academy, no? Do you think your knowledge - or preference? - of older weaponry has created any form of conflict between yourself and the Lieutenant?"

"No, I can operate most Standard issue modern Starfleet Weaponry as well as I can a Phase Pistol or even a particle rifle." He said with the same firmness. Both weapons were over two hundred years old and have been out of service for probably just as long. He leaned forward in the chair as if he was going to say something, which he was, something about how he had outright told Whidbey the truth, which only one person had gotten from him willingly, the police officer that had originally been sent to find him when he escaped the warehouse, and Whidbey just laughed in his face, but he pushed that away and leaned back "I don't see how that could cause a problem sir. He doesn't even know I know how to use them."

It had certainly seemed as though Weber wanted to say something - or had at least thought about saying something - but had ended up refraining from doing so. Again, it was understandable. Building the confidence to say what you wanted to in these sorts of situations took time... Although Vince was quite certain that they had ended up on this topic of conversation for a reason, and he was loathe to steer them away from it now. If you ended up on a only semi-related topic then it had to have some sort of relevance, and considering that Weber being removed from duty seemingly because he preferred to be alone was still a mystery, this topic was all they had as some sort of lead. "Ah, alright -- I had thought that you had perhaps brought up this old weaponry expertise in a work-related context. It might have offered to explain the Lieutenant's actions, at least. So, this interest -- it's a hobby as opposed to anything else?"

"I... Yeah, you can say that." He said with a awkward nod. How do you explain that you spent twelve years of your life using those weapons, twelve years of training, of stripping down and cleaning them, of basically living with them? He wished that he could just end this and go to work, or at least just get signed off on to work and then go to his quarters. "I... yeah..." He repeated, he wasn't sure how he should or could go off of that one, especially without revealing his past to a person he barely knew. He returned to that almost sitting at attention posture in his chair as he reminded himself of that

There was silence for a good minute afterwards. Vince plucked up a PADD stylus from his desk, idly holding it between two fingers and letting the stylus drop to the desk before turning it around again, doing this over and over. He had hoped that Weber would be willing to talk but that reluctance - and strict Starfleet nature judging from the posture - seemed to have returned. Building trust and a rapport took time and he couldn't blame Weber for not wanting to talk, but things weren't going to progress unless he offered something. Another moment of silence ticked by before it was Vince who spoke up, well aware that if Weber had wanted to use that silence to talk then he would have done so by now. "You don't want to be here, do you? Don't worry, you're allowed to say -- people often do not want to be here."

"I uh... no sir. I do not want to be here. I feel this is a waste of time. I can be just as easily working right now as I am talking to you sir." He said in almost a rush, he was speaking awkwardly at first and then gained firmness and lost awkwardness. The counselor had outright said part of what he felt and he felt that he could speak about that part "But I would still need to be here... even if it wasn't for Whidbey." He added awkwardly once more, but also with a bit of annoyance at the end. He shouldn't have said that. To much information to someone he didn't know he could trust yet.

The answer was perfectly reasonable and it was one that he had heard many a time before. It was quite obvious from Weber's attitude, posture, and the way he spoke that he very much did not want to be doing this right now... But the latter part of his statement stood out as some sort of strange conflict. "So you feel as though the actions of relieving you from duty were unwarranted," Vince replied, trying to clarify, "and that there isn't much reason for it... And that you do not wish to be here, but you do feel as though you would benefit from counselling - or that you do require it... Is that correct? I'll hardly force you to stay here if you don't want to, Ensign, but perhaps we could at least discuss why you feel you 'would still need to be here'?" (edited)

"I uh... I don't think I need it personally. But uh... one of the requirements that was set for me was counseling on an at least monthly basis." He admitted, looking at the ground slightly, it wasn't much movement, but he was no longer looking at the counselor. He felt a mixture of regret that he had said something and a hint of shame that he had even talked to Whidbey to get this punishment delivered early. "Lieutenant Whidbey just took the next step and made it where I can't work until you sign off on me being fit." He added awkwardly after a second. He never looked back up the few centimeters needed to be looking at the counselors face again

Vince's own gaze - understanding, compassionate, with that analytical look hidden away - never strayed from that of Weber. The Ensign's glancing down clearly conveyed his upset... Or shame? There was quite a lot going on here and this ensign seemed to be quite the multifaceted person. If Weber was supposed to have monthly counselling sessions then it should have been arranged - perhaps his file lay with one of Vince's colleagues who would have arranged a specific date and time for the Ensign. It was becoming increasingly evident that he was going to have to look into this case further in order to properly do his job here -- including both reading over Weber's file and speaking to Lieutenant Whidbey to find out the full story. "I understand. From what you have told me, Ensign, I have no concerns about your ability to perform your duty. Preferring to stay by yourself outside of work is not a reason to keep you from your work. However -- in these sorts of cases I need to know the full story, you understand? I feel at this time it may be beneficial to speak with Lieutenant Whidbey and discuss his concerns so I can ensure things are correctly addressed, if that is acceptable with you?"

He nodded once grimly. 'Sounds bout right.' He mused to himself silently as he took a deep breath "As I told Lieutenant Whidbey sir, do whatever you want. I don't care anymore." He quoted with a hard tone. He could care less about being allowed to work anymore. He just didn't want to live the memories again, and again, each day. It was bad enough dreaming of being back in the Holodeck and these last five years being the dream only to wake up and find he was back here in this hellhole "Whatever you see as the best solution sir..."

The counsellor's brow furrowed at the 'I don't care anymore.' That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. It was evident that the Ensign had some sort of turmoil but he hadn't expected the sudden hardening of the man's tone of voice. Situations like this were so difficult: he wanted to help but couldn't because Weber wouldn't give him anything to work with, and he completely understood why Weber wouldn't say anything because they didn't have that rapport yet. In normal situations you could spend weeks getting to know a person and earn their trust, but in this sort of situation they didn't have the same time -- doing so meant that Weber had to remain off duty, and that seemed to be exactly what the Ensign didn't want. "Ensign -- this solution is not just up to me. We have to think of something that will work for you, yes? I appreciate that you are upset about this situation, but when you say that you 'do not care any more'..."

"I mean exactly what I said sir. I've had enough shit happen that I could care less what happens to me anymore. I am only here to do my job, not to make friends or go get 'drinks with the boys'." He said firmly and what could have been conviction. He was now looking up again, looking at the counselor with a hard face, this was something he either could or would talk about, his reason for being here. "The only reason I wear the Fleeties uniform is to work." There was an almost palpable sense of dislike as he spoke about the uniform, He couldn't stand the uniforms, he couldn't stand the change in mindsets... He lived a lie that had him living in the wrong era. He was a soldier, not some explorer. As much as he wanted to that could never change. He could Never forget the memories that had formed

It was with a completely neutral expression that the counsellor faced the Ensign, but internally Vince was very much aware that the rising tension and sudden switch from being fed up to being angry was somewhat of a red flag. The one thing that you didn't do was contribute to that tension even more, and so there wasn't even a hint of frustration in his tone when he spoke, keeping his voice entirely level even with the words he conveyed. "Ensign -- I understand your frustration, and I completely understand that you are not interested in socialising with people outside of work. What you do in your free time is entirely up to you. However, Lieutenant Whidbey has raised your case for a reason. Not caring is not a good thing, Ensign, and your reaction does show that you care more than you think. You clearly have a sense of disdain towards Starfleet that needs to be discussed. For someone who speaks ill of the 'fleeties' as you say, you are very determined to immediately go back to work for the fleet."

"I... I hate wearing the uniform. The one I am supposed to be wearing no longer exists outside of history..." He said, his tone still hard as he tried to explain what he meant without giving to much of the past he hated away "I... my only time I can be out of my quarters and not think about it... about her... is when I am working..." He said haltingly, trying to find the words he knew were there but he couldn't seem to find them. Why did this always seem to happen with him? He just wanted to do his job and then be able to be himself. He wanted to just have peace for once. He... he stopped, trying to push past that chaos.

That frown which had been present before made a return as he listened to Weber speak, taking note of the stilted and quite possibly reluctant speech. When the Ensign talked about a uniform that no longer existed outside of history what exactly did he mean? 'It' and 'her' were obviously something traumatic, that much was evident... But what exactly was the Ensign talking about with the rest -- who exactly was he? "Ensign... Using work as a coping strategy isn't healthy. If there's something bothering you so much that it's all you think about then you need to work through it, not work as a distraction for it."

"Sir... I tried counseling for the last five years. It has... it's not helping any more. The only thing I have done that has helped consistently is working." He said firmly, his eyes locked onto the counselors face now. 'Don't react... stay calm, not this guys fault... don't...' he thought to himself, he didn't need to outburst like this... he's already doing to much, saying to much... he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself "As for healthy... working is a lot more healthy than drinking sir." He added in an almost harsh tone, he was losing the battle against his emotions, he needed to get them back under control. Now.

"Work is generally healthier than turning to alcohol, yes," the counsellor replied, that level tone of his seemingly not even taking any effort... But behind it Vince was well aware of the multitude of red flags here: the continually wavering emotions that the Ensign conveyed, the way it was as if he tried to calm himself only to jump back into that snappy tone a second later. Something told him that this man was going to need to be in far more frequently than the monthly session he had mentioned. "Overworking - or working solely as a distraction - is not healthy either, though. You mentioned that your counselling doesn't help any more - did it in the past? Perhaps we need to take a step back; evaluate what sorts of counselling was used then, take a look at what changed, and see what works best for you."

"The only thing that changed was me." He muttered under his breath. He took another deep breath and tried to calm himself again as he reached up and slowly rubbed his temple "Working was... is... the only part of my day out of my quarters I can stand..." He said in a calmer but still hard voice. He was struggling to both calm himself and keep his emotions n check and his thoughts neutral. He wished just to go back, not to have to deal with this, to let him live a normal life. But that wasn't an option for him anymore. And it never would be again

"There's nothing wrong with changing," Vince replied, his head tilted to the side just a fraction as he regarded the Ensign from across the desk. It seemed to be a conscious struggle for him to stay calm, but at least the man was acknowledging that he did need to calm down. "Our brains do strange things, sometimes. We can make progress and sometimes-" There was a slight pause, a blink, and a brief glance downwards before he continued again. "-And sometimes, things can go backwards. What matters is that we find a way to help that, no? Working as a distraction is not a good coping mechanism, as much as it works for the time being. You deserve better than to struggle with something."

The earned a scoff from him "Deserve better? I don't deserve anything. I've earned nothing but hardship. My choices. My actions. My results." He said in that almost harsh voice again. He was struggling to find words in most things but that subject, that subject was just as easy to talk about as it was for him to get bull-eyes on a target. Easy. He took another deep breath as he dropped his arm back to his knee, once more at a sitting version of attention. "I don't think I deserve a lot of things. But I have them. So I did something to deserve them." He added with the same tone as before, cutting the words off slightly at the end

There wasn't any hint of the same awkwardness that had been present when the man was speaking before. Instead his words were clear this time, that stern tone having returned. It was evident that this topic of deserving his struggles was something he felt passionate about - another bad indication, unfortunately. "Just because we have made certain choices or done certain things doesn't mean that we deserve to suffer for them, Ensign. A person can do something bad and learn from it instead -- no one deserves to be tormented by something. You may feel as though you deserve punishment for something that you've done, but does the knowledge that you have done that not serve as punishment enough? A constant struggle without help is unnecessary - and it's cruel."

"Only way to end it is to kill me sir." He said with pure harshness in his tone, there was no attempt to hold it back that time. He may not deserve it but he had it. So he'd deal with it just like he would any other unjust punishment. "They're gone. I'm here. Thats all there is to it." He added in the same harsh tone but with a sense of finality added to it as well. He couldn't understand why this counselor didn't see that he couldn't care less. Just let him work... Thats all he wanted to do, he wasn't suicidal, he was healthy, there was no reason for him to be placed off duty until the damned counselor signed off. It was not only annoying but it was messing with him, the only times he was able to actually deal with his life outside of his quarters... it was so fucking annoying...

The counsellor's brow furrowed further into that frown. While at the start of the conversation he had no reservations about signing Weber back on for duty, Vince was now compiling a steadily growing mental list of reasons why the Ensign shouldn't be allowed to work. Taking away his coping strategy wasn't something that Vince wanted to do, but the man had to explore other avenues... And with what he was saying, he needed help instead of work. "Ensign... I am going to be frank with you. With what you are expressing to me right now, I cannot deem you fit for active duty. What I would like is for you to take some time off and we can arrange a proper counselling schedule for you." While he spoke he kept his gaze on the man, watching - perhaps with a slight bit of caution - for how he reacted. "I would also like to consider the possibility of having you try a course of antidepressants - if you find counselling cannot help you, then perhaps that is an avenue that we need to explore."

"Like I told Lieutenant Whidbey. Go ahead and do whatever you want. Doesn't matter anymore." He said firmly. He had long since figured that this counselor wouldn't sign off on him. He had been doing a shitty job at keeping his anger and emotions in check. He took a deep breath and shook his head "Medicinal means are... I don't trust them sir." He said after another second. He was firm in that, he never trusted medicine like that, he figured he would always get addicted to them. Thats why he rarely drank more than a single glass. "Not an option sir..." He added firmly

Vince couldn't think of a time when he had ever spoke with someone so unwilling to get help. While people frequently didn't want to be at a counselling session, for the most part, they still turned it around and ended up benefitting. The majority of people trusted their HCPs. Weber, it seemed, was not one of those people -- and it left Vince contemplating exactly what he was going to do about it. It wasn't as if he could raise it to a clinical supervisor because he didn't have one, the last person having retired before he had even arrived on the station. The next best bet was the ACMO, but confidentiality still remained. Did he have enough reason to warrant breaking that? No, not really... The mention of 'the only way to end it is to kill me' hadn't exactly been an active threat upon Weber's own life. Dios, this was complicated. "Of course it matters," he ended up replying, now actively having to keep the exasperation from his tone. "If it didn't matter then you wouldn't have come here. You would have accepted the dismissal from current duty and you would have stayed within your quarters without trying to get signed back on. You know that it matters - and you need to consider these options, Ensign, in order to get back on track."

"Sir..." If anyone could make what was supposed to be a respectful 'sir' into a lethal 'quit fucking around and tell me what you actually think' Weber did that "... I've tried plenty of things. Don't beat around the bush and tell me what you want me to do. I won't medicate myself. I don't trust myself with it." He said in a hard tone, he had his mind set now. Get whatever the damn counselor wanted to do done and get back to work. That was his game plan, Almost no way to fuck that one up. "My only goal is to get to work."

"I am not 'beating around the bush,'" Vince replied in turn, cautious of the mounting tension yet again. What did the Ensign want? He wanted signed off for duty but at the same time, he wasn't willing to take the steps to do so. It was as if they were destined to go around in circles. "I understand your concerns and that you're not willing to take any form of medication - I would like you to clarify why you don't trust yourself with it, though." Was that some form of self-detrimental threat? Vince felt as though he was stepping more into the role of a psychiatrist trying to find some convoluted way to get his patient to do as he was told - or force him, rather. He didn't like it. "Your goal is to get back to work, and I'm presenting you with the ways that you can obtain that. If you wouldn't like to attend counselling as you feel it doesn't work any more, and you do not trust taking medication, then what would you prefer, Ensign? Please, do not say that you would prefer me to simply clear you for duty again -- I think we both know that can't happen at present."

"I... I don't know sir. I will... go to counseling if it means I can get back to work. It helped some, I just. I don't know..." He said, his voice still hard but also awkward, he didn't know what to do, he just wanted to go back to work. That was the only reason he was on this damned station, to work. He should have just stayed on earth, stayed there we he at least had *a friend he could trust. He rubbed his temple again* "I... I am only in the fleet to work. Will that get me back to working?" He asked after an awkward second, he was still hard in his tone and clearly annoyed, but he was trying to work through it so he could get back to doing actual work.

"What, will being in the fleet guarantee you getting back to work?" Vince enquired, although he had noticed how the Ensign had glossed over any form of explanation as to why he 'didn't trust himself with medication.' "The only thing that will help you get back to work is your improvement. That could be helped by counselling or you could find your own way. I know that you've said that working is your main coping mechanism and I do apologise for taking that away from you, but you need to improve before you can be signed off again. I don't like to say it but you have expressed some concerning things - those need to be worked on before you can return to duty."

"I understand sir. I'll try to find something. But I will not go into a holodeck." There was that harshness again. He wouldn't go in a holodeck again, especially after last time. No... he would probably have nightmares tonight. Just because he had gone into it... no... not again. Not ever "I will not go near one..." He repeated to try and get that point across. He would lock himself in his quarters before he went into one. He'd tender his resignation right now... no. Never

The statement was completely out of nowhere. In normal circumstances he would have used that as a new lead and had Weber elaborate on it, but given the rather rapid fluctuations of the Ensign's mood he was rather certain that the only thing that would help right now was concluding this conversation instead of prolonging it. This was just going to have to be another one of those things for next time -- and he had already gathered a rather long list of things for next time. "No one has mentioned a holodeck at all, Ensign, and no one is going to force you to do something that you're not comfortable with." That felt like a half-truth. In certain circumstances they very much could force Weber to do what he didn't want to, but Vince didn't want to entertain that possibility. "We can only recommend what we think would help."

He didn't respond for a good thirty seconds, his mind already running though the torturous minutes in the holodeck waiting for the actual program to start... he had a full blown panic attack just standing there waiting for it to start. The his mind went back to the first time when he had left The holodeck, the one that he had grown up in. He was hugging her, Erin, he could remember everything about that moment, the exact time, the weather, where they were, even the smell of her hair... No. Those were lies, don't. Don't He took a deep breath and nod "Al-alright." He started with a slight stammer as he tried to force the memories away, his eyes slightly misty as he fought back emotions he hadn't shown in front of people in... ever, those were holgrams, not actual people. "Wh- what do you suggest?"

The way that the Ensign's eyes welled up just ever so slightly did not go unnoticed, nor did that deep breath as if to steel himself, or the way that a good thirty seconds had passed before he spoke again. Vince had been only a few seconds from speaking to coax the young man back, but instead it wasn't necessary when Weber spoke again. The counsellor tilted his head to the side a little as he regarded Weber, gaze soft, sympathetic - the frustration dissipating. "I suggest... I suggest that you allow me to write up a proper counselling schedule for you. I'll look over your past notes and see what seemed to work and what didn't, and the next time you're here we can form a proper plan. And as for right now -- I suggest that you rest. Take a moment to breathe. And if anything happens, or if you want to talk further-" as he spoke he quickly typed at his console for just a moment, pinging his comms code directly to Weber's PADD. "-You'll call me whenever you need. ¿Acordado?"

He gave a nod as he took another deep breath. Stay calm... stay calm... Don't freak out "I... alright, we can do that... I uh... don't expect PADD messages, I can barely work the damn thing..." He said with another breath in an attempt to calm himself more. The emotions flinging themselves against the wall that he was hastily constructing and continuing to find openings to try and cause him to break down. There was a flashing memory to that first day outside of the holodeck. He was walking around the city streets the were more high tech than the Yorktown was... He forced those emotions away. Not again... Don't break down. Don't... just don't. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, it wasn't a casual closure of his eyes, he had forced his eyes closed. No. DON'T. don't let it through... stay calm. "I... just set up a schedule... I'll try to be here..." He added after a good five second break of fighting

"Don't worry about the PADD - commbadges work just as well. And you will be here, because as difficult as it is, you know it's worth it, he replied softly, allowing for those spaces in between where Weber made an effort to steel himself against whatever conflict he was experiencing. It felt as though they were walking on a very fine tightrope here; on the one hand he didn't want to push Weber into any sort of confession considering he had been so reluctant to talk, but on the other it went against his duty of care to finish a session like this. The middle line was a difficult position to find, but finding it was a necessity. He allowed a little more time to tick by before he spoke again. "You know... It is okay to be upset. I know that it can feel embarassing, or make it feel like you're not a strong person. But what makes us strong is acknowledging our emotions, no? You have the right to be upset - and you have the right to convey that. No one will force you, but when you're ready, you can."

"I... its weird... hard... the only people I trusted... the only person I really... truly trust is back on Earth..." He said haltingly and very awkwardly as he looked down. He really wasn't used to talking about himself... he hated it... it went against almost all of his beliefs to put his personal shit onto someone else, it didn't matter that it was a counselor... he just didn't like it... "I... do acknowledge my emotions sir... I... just don't like doing it in public... around others. Personal stiff stays personal..." He added after a second in the same awkward tone, his eyes remaining off of the counselors face and his shoulder instead of his face

"Then you're lucky this isn't around others," was the counsellor's reply, tone still light but also explanatory. If they were going to make any progress here (or even find some sort of balance to Weber's apparently constant shifting mood) then he needed to get it into the young Ensign's head that doing this sort of thing wasn't bad. Besides... The talk of actually acknowledging his emotions seemed to be a contradiction to what Vince had seen today. Weber had spoke of drinking or working as a distraction to those emotions and had purposefully fought against them over the course of the session -- it wasn't the best display of him being an emotionally in-tune person, as harsh as that sounded. "I am one other person -- and I know it's difficult to confide in someone that you don't know, but I'm not asking you to tell me anything you're not comfortable with. All I ask is that you try to take the first step; understand that you're allowed to feel, and know that you can confide in people when you're ready."

I... understand sir. I... I hate talking about... my past." He started awkwardly and haltingly. He took another deep breath and sighed "I uh... I don't talk about it... it's just something I don't do... It's... hard... awkward... I don't like it..." He continued to explain awkwardly "I... would suggest to look at my file sir if you want to understand better..." He said with a little firmer of a voice as he changed from speaking directly about his past to how to find it. Talking about his past made it much harder to speak, it made harder for him to focus on what he was doing, it also made it harder for him to even just breathe. He... the... everything just went south faster than the ambush in Vietnam when he talked about it...

Looking up the Ensign's file and thoroughly reading it through was already something which had been added to Vince's mental to-do list. He hoped that it would shine some sort of light on the enigma that was this Ensign who mentioned things that just simply didn't add up. At the same time he couldn't help but notice that there it was again - that strange and very sudden shift in the man's attitude again. Weber had gone from distinctly meek to the beginning of that daunting firmness again -- the way he fluctuated wasn't healthy. "The past is a difficult topic for many. We've been through hardships, we've endured things that we don't want to live through again. It is awkward - you're quite right. But just because it's awkward doesn't mean that we can't find the courage to do so. Ignoring the past and the emotions it stirs is not healthy. You need to come to terms with it and reconcile instead."

He nodded and took another deep breath "I... know sir. I will do my best. But that's something I do not think will happen for a while... I am... not quite there yet." He said with a much firmer and less shaky voice, it was only when he was directly talking about his past did he seem to have the major stammering and emotional swings, he was still trying to stay calm, taking deep breaths and looking at the counselors shoulder instead of in the eye like he had been though "I... yeah..." He added with a nod, his voice an almost verbal shrug as he didn't know how to continue. It had turned awkward now, not emotionally, just he didn't know where to continue.

"And that's okay," Vince reiterated, trying to confirm that fact once again. He didn't expect Weber to suddenly be able to open up and tell the counsellor here his deepest darkest secrets - but at the same time, he couldn't make any form of progress if he wasn't willing to try. "No one will ever expect you to give them your life story right away, no one will ever force you to talk, and no one will ever make you talk about something that you don't want to. The rate that you go through this process is up to you -- but in order to progress, you do have to be willing to try. Do you understand?"

"I understand sir." He said with a slightly hesitant nod to the counselor. He took another deep breath and bounced the counselors words around in his head. A lot of the "no one will's" were true, but someone would sure as hell try to force him to talk about something he didn't want to one day, maybe not tomorrow or even in five years. But thats not now... focus on this... He took another deep breath and forced a small grin at the counselor, it was barely there and it was obviously forced but it was there "I... will do my best sir..." He added. This was a challenge now. 'Do you understand' was something that had always been used at the end of a task that had been given to him from a higher up, it may have not been yelled at him, but it was indeed a task... 'Find something and get better at looking back so I can get back to work...' ran through his mind several times as he gave another nod to the man.

It still seemed obvious that the Ensign was doing his hardest to keep a firm hold on his emotions. It seemed the mentioning of the past seemed to encourage the worst emotion -- it made Vince wonder exactly how Weber would fare without his one coping strategy of work, but with any luck the man would be determined enough to fight through it. The slow breaths in as if he was constantly trying to steel himself against the thoughts was evident -- but that half-grimace, half-smile was more than he could ask for right now. Going from being completely reluctant to be here and stating that all he wanted was to get back to work to now saying he would do his best was progress in itself. "Thank you -- I know it isn't easy, but this is a good start. We'll take things slowly with the schedule and see where we go. Now in the mean time, I don't want to keep you here forever. Do you think that you will be able to go back to your quarters and find other things to do in the meantime - hobbies, for example? Will you be able to keep yourself safe?"

"I've kept myself for the last seventeen years sir. I can do that easily sir." He said with a nod and a slight tone of confidence as he took another deep breath. He was already bouncing ideas around in his head for ideas on what he could do... wood working would be out of the question, he'd end up hurting himself on accident... and it'd be best to do it in a holodeck so that was immediately gone as soon as the holodeck entered his mind, his eye twitched some at the though as well before he nodded again to the counselor. "I... I got a few ideas sir. A few ideas that don't involve a holodeck..." He added with another slight twitch of his eye. He briefly lost that forced grin before he managed to get it back and nodded again. If nothing else he could always just go and design some more patches. It wouldn't be the same though, none of his friends would ever have them also... no one to share the story behind them with...

"A few ideas are better than none," he replied with a slight smile as he watched the way the Ensign reacted, taking note of the slight hitch but the hint of confidence that shone through. It was certainly a contrast to how things had been earlier. "If you do find yourself missing work remember that you can always look into things somewhat related to your job -- reading over the most recent journals or looking into related topics, that sort of thing. And remember you're not being confined to your quarters -- you still have the rest of the station at your fingertips." The counsellor paused then, mentally contemplating if he thought this was going to be an appropriate time to wrap things up. Weber no longer seemed to be on the brink of breaking into tears but there was that worry that left alone, things could change... But what else was he to do, keep the young Ensign here forever? "If you're quite happy with our plan and you feel alright to head off just now, then I won't keep you here."

He nodded and stood a little bit awkwardly "I... Understood sir. I am happy with the plan." He said with another nod. He was still running through some plans of what he could do. On second thought, doing some patches may honestly help, it'd help him to get some of the past out... So maybe that was a way he could help himself, by doing that. He gave the counselor that forced grin again before standing "I'll do my best sir. Uh... have a good day..." He added awkwardly as he stood, coming back to that almost form of attention almost as naturally as if he had been born coming to attention.

Naturally the counsellor stood to walk Weber to the door, hardly going to just make him wander out without a goodbye. As they walked to the door he couldn't help but note the stiff posture - almost akin to being at attention - that the Ensign had naturally fallen back into. Part of him wanted to say it was likely just because Weber wasn't long out of Starfleet Academy... But Vince was smarter than that, and he was already quite certain that there was something else behind it. Weber was such a strange enigma of a person -- especially for someone so young. "I hope the rest of your day goes okay as well, Ensign -- and remember. If you ever need me before we have an official schedule, all you have to do is call."

"Understood sir." He said with a nod, for some odd reason he felt the urge to do what he hadn't in over four years, so far this was the only guy on the station to use terms that threw him back into his training, some small part of him started to move his right hand. He stuck it out for a handshake knowing full well that wasn't what he had originally intended to do. He nodded again in a friendly, if you can call the sharp nod that, way "Sorry for any... problems, I caused you sir." He added a little awkwardly as he held his hand out

Vince blinked, pausing for a second -- and then offered a smile and accepted the handshake with a grasp that wasn't too firm, wasn't too gentle. Considering how Weber had seemed so reserved and reluctant and had actively spoken of how he didn't like to interact with people... Then Vince was going to count this as another hint of progress. It was more than he would have expected for a short conversation, but at least it showed that perhaps Weber was willing to work on everything and take those steps forward. "Please, Ensign, you do not need to apologise. You've caused no trouble at all - at the end of the day, this is what I'm here for."

He nodded yet again and repeated himself "Understood sir. I should go get some rest..." He said in a firm voice without any of the awkwardness as before. "Until next time." He added as he started to walk out the door, his mind still bouncing around thoughts of what else he could do to end up getting back to work as soon as possible

Weber's last statement was only met by a polite nod, having already acknowledged that the conversation was over. For a moment he lingered in the doorway to watch after the Ensign and ensure he made it through reception again, and once he was certain that everything was alright a that Weber wasn't going to turn and come back for whatever reason, Vince turned and headed back to his desk. Time to look up the young Ensign's file, perhaps...

PADD MESSAGE

To: counseling office From: Lt. JG. Adill Rik’Mut Regarding: Appointment To whom this may concern, I am sending a message to request an appointment for a counseling talk for my friend, Ensign Eshen K’Tann. He has sleep paralysis. I would accompany him to the appointment. Please let me know when would be a fitting date and time. Sincerely, Rik’Mut

An automatic reply was sent back to @Deleted User with a calendar showing available appointments so he could select his own, as he would know when he was free better than anyone else would.

Eshen entered the counselling office. Well, he stood in the doorway. It was a threshold he couldn't return from.

Adill placed a hand on Eshen’s shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

Eshen stared at Adill blankly - but soon his gaze softened and he looked away, sighed and crossed the threshold.

Adill followed into the room. He found a place to sit. Apparently, Ferrufino wasn’t here yet. “Let’s sit down,” said Adill, “It looks like we’re a bit early.” (edited)

Eshen sat down next to Adill a little less than an arm's length away. That's about what he'd determined Adill's flight zone to be. "Or perhaps they're fashionably late?"

Adill looked at Eshen. “Please tell me if you would prefer me to leave. I have heard these talks can be quite… personal.”

Eshen smiled a little. "I wouldn't bring you all the way in here just to tell you to leave! You can, if you want, but hopefully it shouldn't get too ugly today. I'm not going to show the counsellor a horrible time."

“I do not care for how… ‘ugly’ the talk might get. I merely do not wish you to feel restricted by my presence.” He nodded and stayed firmly put in his place.

The counsellor had been at reception discussing scheduling with the receptionist when the two officers had walked in... Only to completely bypass the reception and head straight to one of the offices. It was only thanks to having previously looked up their files that he identified the two as those for his next appointment. It was evident that they were preoccupied - quite possibly with the nerves of coming here in the first place, that was the norm - and so he gave them a moment, figuring they might need a moment to get settled. After a minute or so he headed through, arrival announced by the soft hiss of the office's doors. "Sorry, sorry," he spoke upon entering, acting sheepish as he paced past the sofa that the two had settled upon. Vince definitely wasn't going to comment on how they had claimed Carol's office and not his own. "I hope I'm not interrupting your conversation. It's always difficult, knowing when or when not to come in. If only we could be clairvoyant," he then added with a grin. The casual-yet-polite introduction was a way of building rapport, and what he had read from K'Tann's file had indicated a social and outgoing nature. Rik'Mut was still to be decided. He turned, taking the chair across the table from the two of them before offering a nod to them both. "Ensign K'Tann, Leiutenant Rik'Mut -- how are you both today?"

The counsellor that entered came off a little… lightheaded, in Adill’s opinion. “Hello, Lieutenant,” said Adill rather simply, “You were not interrupting. I am well, I am only accompanying Eshen here.” He said nothing more. Ferrufino seemed like somebody he wouldn’t necessarily get along with, but who knew? One of his best friends was a pacifist human girl, so it wasn’t like he had a track record of staying true to Klingon clichés. And this wasn’t about him or whether he liked Ferrufino, anyways. This was about Eshen. So, Adill let Eshen talk.

He's kind of handsome. Which is a bad thing, because that is not the first thought Eshen wanted to have when his goddamn counsellor walked into the room. He tried to envision the man in clashing patterns and crocs. It helped. He couldn't reach him for a handshake, which was probably for the best, so he settled on a Vulcan salute. "Hello, yes, I'm Ensign Eshen K'Tann, but you can call me any ti - fuck." Eshen took a deep breath. Usually he could hold himself back, but something in his mind still perceived the counsellor as a threat, and his response to danger was... Unusual. "You can call me Eshen, and he and him, and I'm fine, thank you! How are you?" (edited)

Adill raised an eyebrow at Eshen’s reply, but held his peace. He’d been under the impression that the counsellor was the one to ask how Eshen’s doing, not the other way around. This would certainly be interesting.

The Vulcan salute was met with a smile - he would have offered the ta'al in return but he was one of these sorts of Humans who never managed it correctly... And besides, he felt it was much better to move onwards from what had happened there given the Ensign tripping over his words -- no point in embarassing the man. "Just Eshen, then," he stated and nodded in acknowledgement, "and I'm well, thank you." "Now -- it isn't often that I have someone attend with another person accompanying them, so I'm afraid I have to do a quick disclaimer. Either of you are able to leave this session at any time you would like. If we end up on a topic that makes either of you uncomfortable then please say -- while this counselling session is for yourself, Eshen, we will also be mindful of how Lieutenant Rik'Mut feels. At any point if you want to change the conversation then we can do so, no questions asked, and no one will force you to talk about anything you don't want to. Finally, whatever happens here will not be relayed elsewhere unless you have indicated something that would cause harm to yourself or another person. I trust that Lieutenant Rik'Mut here will also uphold compete confidentiality -- ¿acordado?"

“Confidentiality,” repeated Adill with a nod, “Understood.” This guy was the definition of soft, but Adill had met people like this before and he was okay with it. He only hoped this would do Eshen some good. Adill was sure he wouldn’t be uncomfortable with anything. That would be ridiculous.

Eshen replied 'agreed', but in catalan. The guy might've been soft, but that was what Eshen needed - talking about his feelings with someone stoic would probably just end up with Eshen putting on his Vulcan act or trying to uno reverse the whole situation and crack Ferrufino's shell open. "Leave any time, accommodate the doctor, and what's said here stays here, right?"

"Precisely," he replied to Eshen in confirmation -- although or previously his use of Catalan had caught Vince entirely off guard, earning the Ensign an impressed smile. The use of the universal translator generally meant that anything was translated into the listener's own main language, so for someone to pick up on the change and then reply accordingly was impressive. "Now, I believe you asked for a counselling session for a particular reason, so perhaps we could start with that. Lieutenant Rik'Mut mentioned that you have been experiencing sleep paralysis - is that correct?"

"Yes. No. I mean, that's part of it, I guess. You have weird dreams in your file, right?" No point not admitting that if it's already in there.

"I can tell you that the word choice of 'weird dreams' isn't used," he mused in return - something that was half joke, half clarification. "If we don't have the full picture then perhaps you would you like to explain what has been going on, so we understand in more detail?"

Adill was quiet for now, letting Eshen speak and trying to fade into the background. Which wasn’t easy as a 2m Klingon, but he was doing his best.

"Well, they didn't affect my sleep schedule at first, but they got weirder and now they wake me up at night, but, you know, in that creepy sleep paralysis way, and I don't feel very refreshed come the morning." Eshen glanced at Adill. "...Possibly the disturbed sleep is why I passed out the other day. I'd like to get rid of the demon so I can get back to normal life. That's all."

Adill acknowledged the glance with a nod. He appreciated the honesty.

The counsellor nodded slightly of what was being said, taking note of the mention of 'demon'. It wasn't uncommon for people experiencing sleep paralysis to unfortunately have hallucinatory symptoms as well, and it seemed that K'Tann had already associate fit with the sleep paralysis. "Can I ask when you started experiencing this? Has it been going on for some time, or is it a relatively new development?"

Eshen folded his arms not in a guarded manner, but a thoughtful one. "When I came to this station. First time I've been off Earth, apart from my holidays to Vulcan and Qo'nos, but those were supervised." (edited)

"This is your first posting, isn't it?" He enquired, although it was mostly rhetorical considering how he was already aware from K'Tann's file. Moving away from home was difficult and just when you thought you had gotten to know things at Starfleet Academy you had to move again -- first postings were daunting for most, so he was interested to see how the Ensign had handled it. "How have you found things so far? Have you managed to settle aboard the station okay?"

"My dear, I can settle most anywhere, first posting or not. I've many friends, two, um..." What the hell would he call Aella and Cecil? "Dating... Partners... And I've managed to build my usual schedule of meditation, exercise and socialisation around my work. I eat well and I look after myself, as you can clearly see -" No. Stop it. "It's actually quite rude of the demon to turn up and ruin a man who should be a picture of health, really!"

Adill almost chuckled. Eshen had his kind of humor in some sense. However, Adill settled for a small smile and said nothing. He wanted to hear what Ferrufino would reply.

"It is rude," he stated in reply without questioning K'Tann on the lengthy list of how he was more than certainly doing alright. Not only did this give a hint of K'Tann's quite outgoing (and perhaps unreserved) nature, it also conveyed what may well be a hint of pride. Why admit that something was wrong when everything else seemed right? "Which is why we need to understand what this sleep paralysis is stemming from. You've spoken of the more social aspects of life aboard the station. What about your work itself? How has it been going?"

"It's fine. I'm doing what I love and what I'm best at, which is talking to people, and then outside of work I'm also doing both those things." Eshen pauses, takes a deep breath while fiddling with his gloves, as if considering something. "It is slightly annoying that some of the people who are supposed to have the same kind of job as me don't put in nearly the same amount of effort, though. I can handle normal people calling me things like half-breed, but not people who are supposed to know how to carefully choose their words. It means they're doing it on purpose trying to get me angry because I'm a Klingon, or because I'm a Vulcan, or because they know I'll just smile and put up with it and they... Get a kick from that? I don't know."

A slight frown formed on Adill’s face as he perceived Eshen’s words. It irritated him that people would say such things to provoke the half-Klingon. What the hell were they thinking? Adill couldn’t help but be upset at that.

The frown that Adill now adopted was reflected in Vince's own expression too, brow furrowed ever so slightly. For the most part, senseless xenophobia based on species had been eradicated... But here and there you had people who still liked to pick on others solely because they were different. Going through such a torment was hardly healthy for a person... And not to connect the dots so early and without further investigation, but stress was one of the leading causes of sleep paralysis in most species. "It sounds as though you've had quite the bad time with some of the people there. Do any of the senior officers know about this - the people not putting in the effort, or the people being xenophobic towards you?"

Adill sure hoped that the senior officers knew about this! He looked at Eshen. The kid didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Eshen folded his arms tighter in a way that most certainly is guarded. "No. And I'm not going to tell them. I know it seems like a big deal to someone who isn't a half-breed, but the fact is, while the Federation may be fairly liberal, a lot of cultures including my two non-human ones still have a lot to learn, and I am not going to lose face and report people every time they call me a mean name. It's just like building a pain tolerance as a part of Klingon martial training - if I can't handle that, then I won't be able to handle greater hardships during bigger challenges, like when a disagreement gets heated or a situation needs deescalating." Eshen's gaze, under a sheen of amiability, had a piercing edge to it that most people who weren't counsellors wouldn't be observant enough to pick out. "Do you report every rude patient of yours? I'd guess not, because you're supposed to be able to handle volatile people, right? My job is the same." (edited)

Adill spoke up before the counsellor could. He couldn’t let that stand and he wouldn’t. “That’s not right,” he said roughly. “You might build up a tolerance against it, but you are not the only person these people mistreat. They need to be reported and need to be made aware of their wrongdoings! For your sake and for the sake of any other hybrid they encounter!” He was not having this. “Every culture must learn, but that’s not possible if the wrongdoings are not spoken about.” Okay, easy there, Adill, that was almost getting personal now.

17:40

Little did Eshen and Ferrufino know that Adill could understand Eshen. He too, was too prideful to speak up about some things… But that wasn’t the point of this conversation.

It was with a look of concern that he listened to the points that both of the officers made - although beneath it was that continued analysis, picking up on the more tense body language from K'Tann and the vehemence with which Rik'Mut spoke. The counsellor was quite certain that there was more at play here - but they could only handle one thing at a time. "The Lieutenant here has a point," he spoke to K'Tann. "And there is a difference between being rude and being xenophobic. Starfleet has a zero tolerance policy for that kind of treatment. Discrimination based on a person's species, hybrid or not, is illegal. I understand you may want to build a front against that sort of treatment so you know how to handle similar sorts of situations in the future -- but dealing with that on a daily basis isn't right, nor is it fair on yourself."

Adill nodded in agreement with the counsellor. He thought he wouldn’t like this guy, but he was smarter than he looked. He only hoped Eshen would take these words seriously.

Eshen looked between Adill and the Counsellor a few times before he unfolded his arms. "You're... Right. I'm sorry. I didn't even think about other people who might be experiencing the same thing. I just assumed they hated me, personally, for some reason." He tended to do that with most people who didn't like him. He had a hard time imagining people just being lukewarm about him; it was a polarising mindset to have. "If I can report them anonymously, I'd like to do that. But can we maybe deal with that sometime that after the session? It's really not something I can't handle. It certainly wouldn't put a demon in me."

"You don't need to apologise," he replied softly, "you haven't done anything wrong. You're more than allowed your own view on things - and it is very admirable that you would be willing to help ensure that other people don't have to go through the same thing that you have. You're right, though - that's something for later. Now..." He paused for a moment, considering. The concept of a 'sleep paralysis demon' was hardly uncommon and he had presumed that was what K'Tann was speaking of, but presumption was exactly the issue. What if there was some sort of cultural aspect or something he was missing? "I know it must not be nice to speak of, but when you speak of this demon, can you tell me exactly what you mean? I want to make sure I understand what's been happening."

"It's..." Eshen grit his teeth and folded his arms again, digging his claws into his forearms a little. "I call it the Faceless Entity. Capitalised. Though it's not exactly faceless; it's more like its head is so shiny and chrome that it reflects the visages of others upon itself. To its credit, it never does anything overtly intended to scare me. Just weird things. And sometimes my internal voice sounds like it." Eshen sighs. "I know that sounds completely insane."

That slight frown of his made a reappearance at the way the officer clawed into his own arms. If anything, it was a show of exactly how much this 'Faceless Entity' had been tormenting him. Sleep paralysis often seemed to go in some sort of awful cycle; you were stressed or upset which caused it to occur, and its occurrence proceeded to cause more stress or upset. "It doesn't sound completely insane at all," Vince reassured, tilting his head to the side a little as he regarded Eshen with a look of half-compassion, half-concern. "There are many people out there who report a similar occurrence in relation to sleep paralysis -- you are not the only person to experience this, nor will you be the last. ...Have you looked into what causes sleep paralysis for most people, at all?"

Adill was happy that Eshen would be reporting the xenophobic people who had been mistreating him; but the things he said about that demon… it concerned him. Well, that was the reason they were here. He hoped Ferrufino could help Eshen with that, because Adill was out of his depths.

Eshen's general posture relaxed a little upon seeing the counsellor wasn't looking at him like he'd grown a third head, but his claws kept digging. Were there not a two layers of cloth barrier in the form of gloves and sleeves, he would have punctured skin by now. "Insomnia, disrupted sleeping patterns, narcolepsy, post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety, or a family history. But I don't usually have any of those. Well, I could have the last one, I suppose."

Adill had expected that there was something up with Eshen’s family history. For now he sat back and let the other two talk it out.

He took note of the 'don't usually' have any of those, wondering if that had been intentional or just general word choice. It was difficult -- for all the Ensign knew he could very well have any of the above, just undiagnosed... And investigation and diagnosis did not happen over the course of an hour, as unfortunate as it was. "You know... General stress can also be a factor, too. You've moved to your first posting, away from home; you've had to settle in here and balance your regular hobbies and work alongside it, there have been issues at work... Do you think that, possibly, things may have been more stressful than you had realised..?" He then enquired at the end, voice soft. It was difficult to lead someone to any form of conclusion when it might not be the answer, but perhaps even getting Eshen to consider the possibility of him being under more pressure than he admitted might be a start.

"But I'm not! As soon as I left - as soon as I joined the Academy, my life got infinitely better. Would you believe I used to be an introvert? I used to be afraid of talking to people?" Eshen smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I killed that version of myself and replaced it with a new and better one as soon as I could, and it was the best choice I ever made - everyone likes him better. How could living as him be more stressful when he's - I'm so much happier this way?"

The words triggered something in Adill, as though they hit close to home. They didn’t irritate him, but he felt strangely… obligated to say something in response. “Eshen,” he started, and this time his low voice was not angry at all, but soft, almost gentle, “In battle, a good trainer will teach you to use the potential you have and grow; not to try and become your trainer. You can not live as someone you are not. That doesn’t mean you can’t change yourself — growth is important — however, you can’t just replace the person you used to be with someone you’re not; for the sake of being more likable or having an easier life. That’s not how it works.”

Rik'Mut may well have been doing his job for him. The Lieutenant was completely correct in what he said. "Change takes time. If we have something that we want to alter about ourself then we have to work on it, and that process can be slow -- a fundamental change in our personality does not take place over night. Living as someone you have to take time to develop into, Ensign, may leave you feeling happy with the developments you've made and the interactions you have had... But is living in such a way truthful to yourself? Is it safe for yourself?"

Adill actually was starting to seriously appreciate Ferrufino. The questions that the counsellor asked made Adill think… For a second, he zoned out completely. He thought about A’Ruk, about the sheer unfairness they both had experienced. He thought about the way he’d been treated back when… Oh, and all the blood. All the thankless names he’d been called! And all the facades he’d put up just to keep them out of his personal business. Adill snapped back into reality. What was he thinking? This was about Eshen.

"There is no truth to myself. There's just a hole where a pathetic little boy used to be. Maybe you can't just change yourself, but I can and I did. I hated him and being him. I killed that kid and I'm never bringing him back and I spit on his grave." Eshen looked away from them both, glaring at some corner of the room. "There. Now that you know what a shapeless creature I am, feel free to express your disgust. I might as well be part of the Dominion."

Adill leant over and reached out. He grabbed Eshen’s shoulder, trying to catch his gaze. “Juppu' jI'oy',” he said, “Do you really think so little of yourself?”

Eshen flinched, but then looked at Adill with a smile that would be unnervingly convincing were it not for the context of literally everything else going on here. "I love myself. The me that I've molded. But there is nothing of worth underneath that, and nothing of him remains." Except, maybe, a demon.

The conversation seemed to very swiftly derail - and it derailed into something that Vince wasn't just concerned about, it was something that he did not enjoy at all. It was with a completely neutral expression that he faced the 'maybe you can't just change yourself' - it was something that hit hard even if it was unintentional - and for the briefest of seconds he found himself scratching at the back of his hand before catching himself, swiftly stopping with a slowly drawn in breath. He had other things to think about, other things to focus on... And it was the continued analysis of the situation that stopped his mind from wandering. 'Faceless Entity', 'shapeless creature' with the Ensign's own internal voice... The correlation was all there. "Ensign... As much as we can dislike the people we once were, as much as we can strive to do differently -- viewing your past in such a manner is not healthy. We learn and grow from our past, but concealing it and forcing it away, especially in such a short space of time? It isn't healthy. It isn't healthy at all."

"Does it matter? I'm happier and better now. I told you without the demon I'd be a picture of health, didn't I? If I just get rid of the demon, I can be that picture again. That's what I came here for."

"And what if this demon of yours, Ensign, is you?" He asked, having adopted a firmer tone as he opted to throw the theory out there. "Your own past; this personality that you have tried so hard to quash and replace and 'kill,' as you have said. Trying to make positive change is one thing but forcing yourself to be someone entirely different in the pursuit of happiness... That isn't a healthy mechanism. That isn't a healthy way to change. If sleep paralysis may be caused by stress and you are being haunted by something that has a resemblance to the way you see your old self, Ensign, then this is surely your biggest stressor yet."

Eshen becomes eerily calm. "So it's my old self. I'm a Vulcan-Klingon. This is a mental enemy. Why can't I just..." His claws broke through cloth and skin. "Kill it again?" (edited)

“Some enemies can not be defeated in a war,” said Adill meaningfully, “They have to be befriended instead.” It wasn’t a very Klingon thing to say. However, parts of Adill weren’t very Klingon.

"...That sounds like something I would say," Eshen replied, quietly.

“We agree, then.” His tone was firm and somewhat warm.

Eshen said nothing, waiting for Vince to speak, but unfolded his arms. (edited)

The counsellor was immensely thankful for the input of the Lieutenant. Rik'Mut's opinion offered a cultural aspect that Vince could not provide - and considering how he had watched the young Ensign's nails pierce directly through the sleeves of his jacket, Vince was quite certain that anything needed to be said in order to change the Ensign's mind. He had already proven that he could be a physical threat to himself, even if unintentionally -- and there had been a grand total of zero good signs for this conversation until the two Klingons had spoken. "I know... That it's difficult. When we want to change who we are, when we want to become who we feel would be better. But ignoring our past - ignoring how it has shaped us, defined us, and ignoring part of who we may still be... Is not a safe way to do things. Your Lieutenant here is right. It is not always about conquest -- sometimes, it is about reconciliation instead."

Eshen leaned back against the sofa, stared at the ceiling, and groaned. "But he suuucks. Ugh. And he never says anything. Apart from that one time before I fainted. I told you that didn't happen just because I kissed a boy, Adill, but you didn't believe me. Medical professionals never do!" But, to be fair, he lies to them a lot. "How do I befriend myself but also not myself without talking to myself?"

Adill blinked. He was absolutely out of his depth and could only apologize for not having believed Eshen. But that, too, would seem a little misplaced. So, he decided to say nothing for the time being and let Ferrufino speak.

It seemed that they were digging deeper and deeper into some rabbit hole that Vince had not expected in any way, shape, or form... Even though it was his job to deal with whatever sort of situation presented itself. The way that K'Tann spoke made it seem like he was envisioning himself - the side of himself that he had tried to 'kill' - as some other sort of personality. This personality spoke on occasion but for the most part didn't... Was it simply some sort of personification of his past self, or was it some sort of legitimate separate entity? Was it just depersonalisation? There were multiple options and none of them were easy to discern or diagnose -- it would take far more time than just this. "I think... I think that I would like to see you back here again, Ensign. On a regular basis. So we can work through this trying some different counselling methods, to discuss things further, to..." Do further investigation, to wrap their heads around this already tricky case which was being presented here. "...Work out what would be best to help you. But in the meantime, by yourself... I think a good start would be learning to be less critical of this past self that you have tried to remove. It may not be nice to think of, but the person we were is the person that helped us to grow."

Adill found that regular visits would probably be good for Eshen. He looked at the kid who he now considered a friend, hoping that he would take Ferrufino’s offer up.

Eshen looked at Adill looking at him. He observed himself being perceived. Two people had seen seen his true self (whoever that was) tonight, and, well... He hadn't been thrown out of the airlock, or whatever rejection of a similar intensity he was expecting. He turned back to the counsellor and gave him his best attempt at a reassuring, slightly watery smile. "I'll come to the appointments. And... I'll try. I'll give you that, counsellor. Is that okay?"

A small smile formed on Adill’s lips that that answer.

The smile that Eshen offered didn't give him the most reassurance but it was certainly better than the situation they had been in only a matter of minutes ago; an attempt at a smile was far better than digging your own nails into your arms. Eshen's case was not much more than a mystery right now so Vince was incredibly thankful that the Ensign had agreed to attend further sessions. Without that agreement, he would have had no idea of where to take things from there. As he spoke there was the sound of his commbadge chirping in time with Adill's once - an automated alert - and then a second time only half a second later, this time a manual alert. It had to be ignored for now -- someone else would have to attend. "Trying is all that we ask, Ensign. Things like this are not easy, but what matters is that you are willing to try to attend and work through things so we can help you with what's going on. Addressing stressors and coming to terms with this... Issue that is happening will help in the long run. I truly do appreciate your willingness to try."

"Thank you, counsellor. It's the least I can do for showing you such a horrible time when I came in here expecting to make the process easy on the three of us. I apologise to both of you if anything I said today was rude or hurtful. As you can bloody well discern, I was not in my right mind." Eshen looked down at his bleeding arms. "Ah. We should probably deal with this."

“I’ll walk you to sickbay,” said Adill, referring to Eshen’s arms. He added, “You did not give us a hard time, as you say. I believe this talk was… productive.” He wasn’t quite sure that was the right word, but he’d stick with it for now.

"Please, Ensign; you hardly need to apologise. It's clear that you're struggling with what's been going on and I completely understand that this is a stressful situation for you -- I'm only glad that we've managed to take the first steps forward to working through it. Now -- what about the mean time? Do you think that you will be able to look after yourself appropriately, sleep correctly without fear of this sleep paralysis? If it might help in the time being, we could always consider a prescription of sleep aids..."

"I... Wouldn't mind trying the sleep aids, if only to see if they help or make the dreams even weirder." Eshen stood up a little shakily. Much like after his conversation with Cecil, he felt really tired all of a sudden.

Adill stood next to him, noticing the slight shake, but not commenting on it. He looked at Ferrufino. “Send me the official notice of this talk to my PADD, Lieutenant, and I’ll get you,” he turned to Eshen at that, “your sleeping meds.”

"Woo, drugs!"

Adill snorted a little in amusement. At least Eshen hadn’t lost his humor. There was this Earth saying about laughter being the best medicine, right?

"I'll..." Having started to speak, he trailed off at Eshen's 'woo, drugs' comment. He wasn't exactly sure of what to say about that but at least, if anything, it was an improvement on how things had been before. Now he could only hope that this conversation would help Eshen to improve further. Things had taken such a drastic turn over the course of this talk -- seeing as how the Ensign had managed to claw his way back for now, he desperately hoped that nothing would knock him over that invisible edge again. "I'll have the prescription written up and sent to pharmacy just momentarily. Now please, be careful -- and if anything else happens, or if you - either of you - need me again, then all you have to do is call."

Adill pulled himself together and thanked the counsellor. He then went towards the exit.

"So you're saying I can call you any time?" Eshen froze, blushed, then darted off after Adill. Ah, back to... Normal...?

"Only for-" It seemed that there was no time to finish his sentence considering how Eshen all but sprinted after Rik'Mut who had made it out to reception. He allowed his efforts to call after the Ensign to quiet instead, leaving him stating the concluding "-medical reasons..." quietly despite there being no way that Eshen would hear. For a moment he started after the two, having stood to walk them to the door (and then not ended up with the chance)... And when the doors slid shut once more he all but sank back into his chair, lowering his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. Slow inhale, slow exhale... Today had not gone as he had thought, and now he had to form a plan of action for the enigma that was Ensign Eshen K'Tann. Strange case after strange case... When had this become the norm?

[D] Michael came diplomatically into the office with his arms crossed behind his back. He immediately walked up to the reception desk. "Scuse' me ma'am is there any chance I could have a word with Lieutenant Ferrufino. I won't take up too much tune if he is available."

After a moment of sitting there in silence - mostly trying to formulate some sort of mental to-do list and work out exactly how he should handle a schedule for K'Tann - he figured that he should probably leave this office just in case Carol showed up. Everyone wanted her office. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he wandered back out to reception -- only to catch his name being spoken to someone who certainly hadn't been there a minute before. "Sorry - you were looking for me?" He enquired, heading over.

He jumped on his feet and the old suit he was wearing fluttered up. His hat almost fell off his head as he turned to Vincent. He took a moment to resettle his hands behind his back. "Oh yes, you must be Mr. Ferrufino. I was wondering if I could possibly have a word with you about a couple things, on behalf of the news."

The way the man sprang up from where he had been leaning against the desk was almost comical. His use of 'mister,' however, just felt completely out of place -- he was either Lieutenant or Doctor in a pinch, but not Mr. 'Mr' Ferrufino was his father. Despite the significantly strange feeling of being addressed as such, he still managed to offer a smile to this newcomer -- only for it to falter ever so slightly as he stated why he was here. Vince had presumed this was another person for counselling, not... Well, not anything else. "I'm sorry," he replied, looking to clarify, "did you say the news?"

"Well I guess my 'news company' hasn't really made a story yet but I've been kinda just writing news articles because I like informing people I guess. I was hoping to run a insider view on our starfleet medical staff here... if that's fine with you?" No one had questioned that out of him yet but it was true. He was just a simple guy who moved out here to pursue his passion. He had a strong sense of journalistic integrity and was willing to share with Vince.

"I, uhm... I'm not entirely sure if we're allowed to," he stated in reply and spared a glance sideways to the receptionist as if looking for clarification. He was quite certain that there was some sort of media policy somewhere, but was that just for large-scale publications? If this was just some sort of small local writer then did that make a difference? "I feel as though there's some sort of policy about this. If you're willing to wait, we could look it up..."

He paused for a moment, anouther thing he hadn't been asked yet. "uhm... I suppose you could. I'm surprised starfleet would have anti media policies, as far as I'm aware the Federation has always taken a very large stance towards the freedom of the press... it's not like I'm with one of those big firms anyways. I don't think starfleet at the top would pay any mind towards me." He had a small frown on his face as though he just admitted he was some kind of two bit reporter.

"It's not so much anti-media as more of a... Controlled media, I suppose? It's in order to make sure that everything is factually accurate." When he thought about it, it did seem a little odd. If everything had to go through specific people who could write specific statements to specific papers then were you really hearing something first-hand? Was it factually accurate? "Have you spoken to anyone else?" He enquired, once again looking to the receptionist who was already looking up the media policy - and after a brief skim, she shrugged as if to say 'seems fine.'

He nodded. "I spoke with a doctor who seemed... angry with me for some reason and then also the ACMO who was a pretty nice person." He rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking on the entire policy. "Wouldn't you agree that if everything is filtered several times over by media consultants people will never really be able to know the truth?"

There was a moment where he actually squinted slightly, trying to take note of the man's eye colour and very much presuming that he must be Betazoid and have at least sensed the sudden conflict... But nope, this reporter seemed Human. For a moment longer Vince contemplated it - without answering the latter question even though he had just been considering it mentally - and then gave in. "Well - if you've already spoken to the others then I'm sure a brief chat with you would be alright."

He tilted his head to Vincent as he looked him in the eyes. "Sounds good... where should we do it? I like to use a recorder so it would probably be easier for me if we could sit down." He gestured towards Vince's office. "Shall we do it in there or would there be a place you would feel more comfortable."

"The office will be fine," he replied and led Crespo through, the lights clicking on as they entered. It wasn't exactly his office considering he shared with one of the other counsellors, them rotating shifts around one another and another two of the counselling staff doing the same. "As for this recording - are you going to be publishing the recording itself, or will things be written?"

He paused as he took a seat in one of the seats patients would normally sit in... that felt kind of odd to him. "It will be a written article however, I will more likely then not quoting you. I also will probably place the relevant parts of the recording available for public use." He placed his recorder between the two of them. "I'm very big on journalistic integrity so I'll only use parts you consent to me using."

That sounded reasonable enough, he thought to himself as he paced around to the other side of the desk to take his chair. "Alright -- that sounds like acceptable terms, sir. Was there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about?" Listen to that... This already sounded more like a counselling session than a journalist looking for some information. Who was going to end up interviewing who?

He nodded and tapped his old tape recorder. Then he pulled out his notepad and pen. "Well first things first I'd like to ask that you confirm your consent to be recorded before we really do anything else. Then I'd like to ask you just to tell me a bit about yourself. Where you are from and why you joined starfleet, just as a way to help set up a background on who you are."

Being the one having the questions posed to felt strange. People told him things about them, not the other way around. He watched the reporter set down the tape recorder - such a strange old thing - and waited for him to click in the button. "Alright, well firstly: I do consent to this recording... And to the publication, as long as I have the opportunity to read and agree to anything which is being quoted of me." Writing up counselling contracts had prepared him for that sort of thing, it seemed. "Secondly: I am from Menorca, one of the Spanish Balearic Islands -- on Earth, obviously. I joined Starfleet after initially studying at university, but I hadn't enjoyed it. I needed somewhere with more rigidity and structure, and somewhere that I would have to make friends and work together instead of becoming some sort of hermit," he then added with a chuckle. "Starfleet provided that."

He looked at him blinking as he chose his next question. He debated between several options before settling on a rather complex question. "Did you find what you were looking for within starfleet medical? Do you find it to He the rigid type of organization you were looking for here?" He kept things quick and short as to better allow for a more concise article.

"Well, properly serving for Starfleet Medical came afterwards. The Academy came first," he stated in reply, "considering I effectively transferred after only my first year at university. It certainly had a regimental organisation to it, yet -- but still offered freedom and downtime as well. The Academy has always seemed to have a good balance."

He nodded along and then decided to slip in a small detail, wanting to understand something he had heard about Vincent. "I must admit doctor that I have allready read through your file and there is something there that I've found quite perplexing. That being your seeming ability to lead, especially during the attack on the station. When do you think you gained this unique ability."

It was only countless years of neutrality and stoicism in the face of bad circumstances that kept him from frowning. Externally he kept up a perfectly neutral expression but internally, it had instantaneously felt as though his heart had skipped a beat at the question. Deflect. It was what patients do often did. "Curious, sir; Starfleet records are only visible to other Starfleet officers. Might I ask how you managed to read mine? If there is some sort of Security issue with the system then it really should be reported... Not to keep information from you, of course."

He shook his head. He was a bit surprised at the question but understood why the Counselor would have assumed that. "Ohhhhh no sir not at all, I can see why that might have confused you. Using some light information gathering I was able to find a make a much more informal file on you. Since I haven't been here long it's mostly just your time on the station recently."

This time he did frown, because there surely weren't people who knew much about him here. He was a reserved person outside of work and the only people he really spoke to were patients, so that was odd... But was it that which he didn't like, or was it actually just the topic at hand? "Well... I have to say, forming a record of your own does sound intriguing. I would be interested to see exactly what your file about me contains... I hope everyone spoke kindly of me at least," he added towards the end and offered a laugh. Vince was a professional at steering conversations, but reporters naturally were too... (edited)

He laughed. "I promise the file on you is all good, your heroics during the bombing were quite notable. Though information about you has been quite hard to come by if I'm being honest. To me I see you as the most intriguing member of the medical staff here. Your inate ability to do your job seems quite obvious yet it seems you aren't active in talking to many people outside of your work."

Crespo's return to talk of the bombing - and talk of 'heroics' - only served to leave Vince with a growing sense of unease; a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and a cold shiver working its way up his spine. At least Crespo's statement had moved on a little so it gave Vince an opening to latch on to a later part of it instead... But he already suspected that this journalist knew how to loop back, loop back, and keep looping back until he managed to acquire what he wanted to know. "I wouldn't say that the ability to do your job is innate for any person in the medical field," he stated (and was very relieved to find his tone didn't waver), using that part of the sentence as his way out. "Any form of physician studies for an initial six years. You do foundation courses, you do four plus years to qualify in your chosen field - and physician or not, every medical position undergoes continued development and training. The learning doesn't stop. I wouldn't say it's innate, no... Our skill just comes with experience."

He took a couple seconds to pen down a couple notes about how humble (in his opinion) Vincent was being. During that time he took in what Vince had just said and noted some dorm of unease in the way he looked at him. Knowing this he decided to play things easy for a little. "Well ofcourse sir, however you must admit you seem to have skills becoming of someone who has a higher rank. You seem to me by the way you have with words to be quite the skilled counselor."

"Again, it's just down to training," he replied with a slight chuckle. The continued compliments didn't exactly do anything to put his mind at ease - he had always been the sort to find that awkward - but at least it meant that he could elaborate and clarify. "We're taught specific phrases, tone, body language, and word choice. We find routine and set phrases for situations - ones that work for both ourselves and the person we're counselling. And while in this capacity-" he gestured to the walls of the office vaguely, "-people are just attending counselling, so I serve them as a counsellor... But give a few months and I will be qualified in psychiatry, so due to technically being on placement for that it has meant that I could sort of... Find a line between the two, one that works for the patient. Again -- all just down to training, and practice." (edited)

He saw that a more slick approach full of compliments only seemed to make the Counselor even more uncomfortable so he decided it wouldn't really hurt to loop back to what he really wanted to know about. "I understand that a lot of what you do as a counselor is done as a matter of routine for you but what about the abnormal events on the station, those where you yourself have clearly taken a strong stand. Would it be your counseling skills and academy training that lead to you stepping up during the bombing? Or would that be more a matter of personally stepping up on your part."

There it was again - they had ended up back on this topic, just as he has expected. This was what, the third time that the reporter had brought up the unfortunate events that had led PACT to a close? That had injured too many, that had killed a good number, that- The more he thought about it the more he didn't want to think about it - about how stepping back into that role had felt so familiar, and how the familiarity had sickened him. This conversation was well on track to do the same, and so he faced it with the same stoicism that he had faced the major incident at PACT. "I would say training... And simple necessity. I was one of the first on scene -- I know it sounds odd, a counsellor attending that, but I was originally a trauma doctor by vocation and I was aware that we were short staffed, so... I just so happened to be one of the first there." Had he been? Had the CMO not been there first? He didn't know... But he did recall her ignoring his triage cards, ignoring events afterwards. No hot debrief, no cold debrief, no 'you're not meant to be doing this job, why are you in my medical bay' when he found himself taking on overtime shifts in sickbay instead of in counselling. He shook his head, trying to ignore how that sinking feeling of dread had gotten worse. "The others who had shown up weren't Medical, or those who were held lower ranks, were younger, less experienced, held lower clinical roles... Somebody had to declare a major incident and serve as Medical's acting incident officer, so I did."

The reporter nodded his head. "And why did you end up being the one thrust into a situation like that? Shouldn't the station have plenty of doctors capable of being trauma doctors? Shouldn't the CMO have the ability to process trauma patients at an extremely high level? Overall I guess my question would be where was the medical leadership? Why wouldn't they have come down to support you?" The reporter stopped himself, it was clear to him the counselor was already deep in thought but he couldn't control his early barrage of questions. He slowly settled down into his seat a bit more.

The tirade of questions only reinforced what he had considered before. These were hardly new viewpoints they the reporter was presenting but by presenting them he seemed to legitimise Vince having felt that way about it. He was so used to just keeping disgruntlement and frustration to himself and simply keeping working... And in sessions he encouraged people to speak up about similar? Hypocrite. With hands placed in his lap he scratched at the back of them; an old habit that he had managed to get rid of years ago, one that he seemed to be walking back into - one that had been a way of trying to remove the phantom sensation of nitrile gloves and the warmth of blood beneath them. Oh, this was not good - but at least the questions served as an out. As a distraction. Avoidance. It was always about avoidance, wasn't it? Hypocrite. Hypocrite. "I... Don't know. The Chief Medical Officer was there, but... She must have been preoccupied." His gaze broke the maintained eye-contact, now looking down to the surface of his desk. Was it right to speak in such a way -- but was it right to continually illegitimise his own feelings? "I triaged all of the wounded. Black cards, red cards, the lot. I tried to stabilise the worst for transport, others helped, one newly-qualified nurse sat there with one of the black-carded patients and spoke with them while they died, and..." He exhaled slowly - did it convey fatigue, or did it convey a hidden bout of frustration that was finally making itself known? "The CMO tried to treat a green-card. Walking wounded. Senior staff, of course, but... That is not how triage works. Nor should it have been up to me."

He gave Vincent a reassuring look as if to say that everything he was being told was okay, that everything was going to be okay for Vincent. "I... I can understand why that would be so troublesome." He wanted to maintain journalistic neutrality but seeing Vincent so distraught over incompetent leadership was understandable. "Its odd to hear that someone at the top of such a proud station would make that sort of mistake. It also doesn't seem to be very integral to be treating a person only because they are senior staff. As I understand it starfleet officers are meant to be more selfless or atleast that's what I was always told before."

The officer had kept up that stoic façade, of course - years of learning how were not about to be forgotten in the face of some interview - and that inner turmoil didn't shine through at all. What did convey the frustration more than anything was his word choice, the fact he would speak of this in general -- you would hardly expect someone to speak so poorly of their direct superior after all... Especially when the person doing the talking was someone who otherwise seemed to be entirely tame. And here it was, the issue with not having been offered a debriefing. These frustrations and concerns had never been aired - there had never been a chance to - so now they were being confessed in a context they shouldn't be confessed in. "The thing is..." He continued, thoughts scrambling at random and having to keep talking about the clinical aspect just so he didn't entirely derail, "that it isn't just troublesome, nor was it a mistake. Every Medical officer is trained in specific protocol for major incidents. Our Chief Medical Officer should have taken charge. She should have issued us orders and stayed with the protocol, but she deviated. The rest of us were left to... Tomar el relevo... To pick up the slack, as it were. Treating a green-carded person instead of anyone of a higher priority was also a direct deviation. It was negligent, it was..." Malpractice, he thought, the word on the tip of his tongue -- but Vince managed to reign that thought in rather quickly... Unlike the rest of the turmoil which was still akin to a hurricane of thoughts tearing through his head. (edited)

The journalist chose to leave to let the silence linger for a few moments. He found it troublesome to pick words to say, hard to let something like that just linger. As silence stayed Crespo inquired. "It was... what... for a doctor to neglect civilians and possibly cause death among civilians who desperately need quality treatment."

Crespo's words hit hard, there, and it hit hard because the man was entirely correct. He was well aware that dwelling on it like this wasn't going to change what had happened, but he had always been one of the sorts of people to think it over, again and again. It had been the same those years ago when everything had gone so incredibly wrong back then. How could you not dwell on it when people had died? This time it wasn't just him, it wasn't just his failure -- but could have have done something differently? Should he have said something to the CMO then... Should he have said something since? But then again, how could you when there was no opportunity to do so? When you went entirely unnoticed throughout the major incident's triage, throughout taking on those shifts within sickbay -- you, the former trauma doctor, former being the key word. Being in charge of a major incident was not supposed to be the role of the person who had left that field of work for a reason. He had always debated whether that career change was because he was legitimately interested in the medical field that he moved into or if it was just complete avoidance, and now he was being forced to not even have the chance to consider it, just to deal with it. What if this was going to be a repeat of before? No, he couldn't think like that, he had to stop this and focus- The only slight break in the façade was a wavering in his expression, just momentarily, before that neutrality returned. He drew in a slow inhale and then exhaled equally as slow, and beneath his desk he laced his fingers together tightly, trying to ignore that phantom texture of nitrile gloves that seemed to be a constant in situations like this. "It was... Incorrect, to say the least, sir." (edited)

Crespo paused for a few moments as he looked to find his next words. It was clear the counselor himself was having issues about the entire ordeal but sadly Crespo was no counselor and thus couldn't really help. He raised his eyes to gaze towards the roof as he continued to choose his next words wisely. Clearly from his perspective Vincent would be the hero of his story... the man who rises up and saves the day against adversity from ~~incompetent~~ unorganized leadership. Then the fact Vincent was ignored also opened up even further opportunities for where he could lead the article. He was yet to talk to the CMO but he was also unsure if he even wanted to talk to such a person. However he relented in his mind that he should still give the CMO a chance to respond... perhaps a PADD message would be for the best. Then suddenly his eyes shifted back down, his focus had drifted towards his article but now it returned to Vincent. Even then he took a little bit longer to formulate his next question. Perhaps it was a bit of a leading question but it would always do well for a story. "Would you consider yourself a hero for how you acted?" The question no matter how it was answered would make Vincent seem like more of a hero. It was rare anyone would say yes but if they did it would give more information about their great deeds, however if they said no and something along the lines of 'I was just doing my duty' it would make them look humble by comparison to those who didn't have a chance to answer such a question.

It seemed that they had looped back around to the concept of heroics that Vince thought they had already moved past. It seemed that he had been quite correct about the journalist knowing how to go around in circles to continually go back to a certain topic that he wanted to discuss -- just like how in sessions of talk therapy that weren't client-lead, a counsellor might do the same. It was interesting, the way that they had similar tactics when it came to communication yet they applied them in such vastly different contexts and situations. At least the shift in questions gave him the opportunity to ignore the mess that this conversation had been so far, ever-so-slightly loosening that death grip that he had with his fingers laced together. "No, no. Not a hero, no." Vince reiterated with the same shake of the head that he had given earlier when Crespo had spoken of heroics then. "In Starfleet, the ability to act in such a situation is expected. It is simply part of your job. If it hadn't been myself declaring it a major incident and beginning triage then it would have been picked up by someone else -- not that I would want them to have to, of course. It isn't heroism, especially in a situation such as that. ...It's just necessity."

He shrugged. "I suppose it would be in your nature as a medical professional to do your best to save those who are physically injured." The reporter continued to search through his brain in an attempt to find the right question to ask next. He wasn't really sure as to what exactly he could say. He still certainly needed to go over his notes but within his mind he had gotten all that he needed. "Thank you for allowing me to give you this interview Mr. Ferrufino. Is there anything else that you would like to add on the record while we are here?" He rarely got much of a response to that question as he tended to be thorough in getting what he needed out of who he was talking to. What he had would certainly add up to an amazing article.

[PADD] FROM: Cadet Sauk Tral TO: Lieutenant Junior Grade Vincent Ferrufino REASON: Therapy Scheduling

Dear Mr. Ferrufino, I have recently been advised by a friend to seek counseling services. It is my understanding that you are this station's counselor, so I am messaging you with the intention of scheduling a therapy session. Regards, Cadet Sauk Tral

Although outwardly still (just) holding onto that composure, internally Vince was very much relieved that this interview was coming to an end. As the legitimate discomfort from the questions regarding PACT Galactica wore off it left him with the realisation that he may have just rather significantly screwed up in that he had blatantly insulted the CMO... But at least he had been smart enough to ask that his section of this publication be sent to him for approval first. With any luck, Crespo would be a legitimately good journalist with integrity who wouldn't go back on his word. "Nothing in particular, sir... Perhaps that just - well, I'm certain that you'll already be well aware of this in your line of work - there are always two sides of the story. While I have my frustrations towards what happened during events at PACT, I'm certain that our Chief Medical Officer had her reasons for what she did. It isn't my place to decide whether she did right or wrong, especially not having heard her side of things. A lot of what I say comes from my own discomfort towards the occurrence-" that was a confession that he was almost proud of, managing to wrangle a hold of that rapidly shifting emotion and use that introspective counselling on himself. "-And not from properly reviewing the situation. Before writing anything I would advise you to speak to her first -- and in truth, I should probably do the same."

He offered a small practiced smile to the Counselor. He had all the intent to reach out to the CMO and get her side of the story. However he was allready intentioned to write his article as something that could be construed as a hit piece against starfleet medical. He would also allow Vince a glance before publication and a chance to further comment. "Naturally, I am quite thorough with my work. I'm going to be reaching out to the CMO next and im going to begin working on my article soon. I'll have a copy sent your way before I start final edits." He offered a slightly bigger smile to Vince. "I hope we will have a chance to meet again soon."

He was glad to hear that Crespo would speak to the CMO first -- as much as Vince (admittedly) held an amount of discontent towards the woman at present, he was certain that both Crespo and himself were aware that Lieutenant Commander Dreaxa would have had her reasons. In his frustration and turmoil he had forgotten to acknowledge that, and it was something that was not particularly becoming of him... Nor was it fitting for someone in his role. As that anxiety-induced adrenaline began to fade, Vince was rather swiftly finding that he was very unimpressed with what he had said and how he had acted. At least he could remain polite towards Crespo, and so it was with this in mind that he walked the man to the door. "I look forward to reading over your article, sir - and good luck with the remainder of your interviews." As the journalist walked out he spent a moment watching the man head out, and when the doors slid closed Vince retreated to his desk. All but sinking down into his chair, he couldn't help but heave a slow sigh before leaning forwards to set his head down against the cold surface of his desk as if it might magically ward off the headache he found presenting itself, largely stemming from the feeling that this new situation to do with the article was not a very good one at all.

[PADD] To: Counselling office From: Ensign Nalas Za'ari

I have an appointment scheduled for 1700 hours, can I come an hour later? I have something I need to finish up

[PADD] From: Lieutenant Junior Grade Anaaddol K'guth To: Ensign Nalas Za'ari

Ensign Za'ari That time is available, please feel free to show up anytime between your original appointment time and 1800. I will be the counselor seeing you. Lt. JG Anaaddol K'guth

(edited)

When Cecil arrived at the counselling offices he checked the time. 1755, not too bad. He chimed the buzzer and awaited a response.

Anaaddol sat down on a small, cushioned chair and called "Come in" to the person, most likely Nalas Za'ari, the ensign in science.

Cecil walked into the office and took a seat in the chair across from the Lieutenant. He was pretty nervous seeing a new counsellor, but Carol told him it would be best if his case was handled by someone who had experiences outside of earth. Cecil didn't mind having a human counsellor, after all he had never had a bad experience. What made him so nervous this time was this counsellor was new and judging from their name they were part Klingon. A Klingon counselor, not the first thing that came to mind when he thought about Klingons but Cecil was also not the first thing to come to mind when people thought of Cardassians. "Hello Lieutenant," Cecil said, nervously fidgeting with his earring.

"Hello," Anaaddol greeted with a smile. "You may call me Anaaddol, or simply Anaa. May I call you Nalas, or do your prefer something else?" Xe introduced, then inquired. The boy appeared Bajoran, though his last name was Cardassian, so perhaps he was mixed like xe was? There was always a story, and xe were here to listen.

This counsellor seemed nice, but that didn't do much to calm his nerves. "Nalas is fine," Cecil said in a soft voice. Ever since changing his name he told himself he would start using Nalas again. With his previous trauma over with, he was trying to be more true to himself and respect his mother more.

"Alright, Nalas. I'd like to go over some confidentiality policies first. Number one: Everything you tell me here stays in here. I'm not going to talk about what you tell me, unless I think you have the chance of endangering yourself or others. I'm also not going to do anything that may lead others to become aware of the fact that you're getting therapy, in case that's something you'd like to keep on the down-low," Anaaddol told Nalas, a comforting expression on xer face. Xe really were trying to be friendly-looking.

Cecil had heard this intro before and he understood the policies. He noded in agreement, and folded his hands in his lap. He had been going to therapy for a few weeks now, but it was difficult to open up to someone, even if they were trained to handle his problems. The only other experience he had with counselors was with social workers on Cardassia Prime and he just told them lies. ”I understand, umm thank you Counselor."

"Okay, perfect. So, tell me a little about yourself, Nalas," Xe said, crossing xir legs and giving Nalas a 'I am listening to what you have to say' face. Xe hadn't been counseling for very long, but xe had good results, so far. If only people would stop being off put by xir Klingon DNA.

Oh, that's right new counselor. Cecil had already told Carol about his situation but that didn't mean that Anaaddol knew everything about Cecil's life now. "Umm... Well you will see my history in my file, so first..." Cecil began. He started from when he was born in Tozhat and explained briefly about his life on Cardassia Prime, mentioning his trauma and abuse he felt from his father. "... And so everything is mostly under control now but... Well my mother recently moved back to Cardassia Prime... To live with my father. He bought a house in Cardassia City for her and they're wearing their wedding bracelets again."

"You don't sound too happy about that. I can see why," Anaaddol nodded. "You're worried about your mother? I can understand how that would be tough, seeing as the situation is mostly out of your control, but there are things you can do to check up on your mother every once and a while to make sure she's alright,"

"I've tried.. I've been sending encoded letters to her, but she sounds genuinely happy," Cecil said with a frown. ”My mother is learning Cardassian. When I called her last, she spoke to be in Cardassian-- very good, actually," Cecil said thoughtfully. "Apparently they want to learn each other's languages so they made a rule that during the day they speak Cardassian and at night they speak Bajoran, but that seems a bit unfair... Plus I don't trust my father to make rules. I know what happens when he makes rules for our house."

"Do you think you could talk to your mother about having the rules change to Bajoran one day, Cardassian the next?" Xe suggested, thinking for a moment. "That seems fair. Alternating days, giving both of them equal time. And I'm glad she sounds happy, but I can understand your anxiety about it. You're very brave for facing this,"

"I... The problem is not really with my mother speaking Cardassian-- actually I am relieved. I am not good at speaking Bajoran at all," Cecil said with a nervous smile. As much as he wanted to embrace his Bajoran heritage now, he also recognised he was probably a horrible Bajoran, He sucked at the language and knew only the basics fo the culture and faith. "It's the rules... I don't like my father making rules. It seems pretty harmless now, but.. My father is also the one who set my mother up with her job at the U of U, and bought her a house, everything. He has so much control over her, I don't trust him."

"I see. Would it be plausible to talk to both of them, at once, and ask them to set a sort of...mutual ruling?" Xe suggested. "If not, we can discuss possible strategies for dealing with these feelings, or try to find other solutions."

"I'm scared.... My father is not a very reasonable man. And I know him and my mother will just say I'm being paranoid. Actually, they seem really happy right now," Cecil took a deep breath and shook his head. "My father said he is trying to make up for lost time. He feels bad about what happened in the past and wants to make it up to me and my mother... I'm really not so sure though."

Anaaddol nodded. "Do you think it's possible that you may be just slightly paranoid? It can be easy to compare experiences to past ones and expect certain results."

"I mean.... Maybe," Cecil said in a soft voice, not really liking the sound of that. In his mind he had every right toi be weary of his father. "My father used to work in the Obsidian Order... He was a spy. He was stationed on Bajor during the occupation. And my mother is 15 years younger than him. There is definitely something wrong here. I know my father is just doing these things to appeal to me, he wants me to only be Cardassian. I am still Cardassian, but he can't stand having a Bajoran son."

"Alright," Anaaddol nodded. His concerns were valid, xe wouldn't question them anymore. "What do you want to do about it?" Xe were ready to accept his fears at face value, because this was why he was nervous, so it made sense that xe let him work through it. "Is there someone else you could contact? A friend on Cardassia?"

"A friend on Cardassia..." Cecil was glad he was able to present his case of concern to the counselor, but when they mentioned a friend on Cardassia... "Tey'ma Antana. He's a famous poet and philosopher on Cardassia Prime. He was kind of like my mentor... I don't know what I could ask of him though."

"Perhaps you could ask him to watch out for your mother," Anaaddol suggested. "Or, if you're really worried, you could take shore leave to check on them yourself, although knowing your history with your father, I wouldn't suggest that. I suggest you continue to monitor your mother's status through encoded messages, and if she starts sounding worse we can cross that bridge if we get to it,"

"Tey'ma would... I don't really know how to say this. As a child I really admired him and I loved his work, but I recently read his work and-- he has troubling views," It was hard for Cecil to say and it was evident in his voice. His childhood hero, the writer he looked up to... Was horribly spacist. He romanticised the Occupation, even made it seem like the Cardassians were helping the Bajoran people. It felt like it was only yesterday when Cecil shared the same views. "Tey'ma would be on my father's side. Definitely. He holds the belief that Cardassia was right and also believes I am only Cardassian. My mother hated him. As a child I didn't understand, but now I can see why. My other connections on Cardassia are no better, it's no secret my Cardassian family sympathises with the True Way."

"I see. Then perhaps all we really can do is hope your mother stays safe. You can write to her every day, if that's what helps the most." Anaaddol frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Nalas. I hope I'm able to help ease your load,"

"Thanks, Anaa," Cecil said, still with much worry in his voice. The rest of the session he talked about his current mental state and what had been going through his mind. He also revealed his conflicting feelings about being Cardassian but also Bajoran. It was still a new identity to him especially after all his years of being conditioned to only be Cardassian. At the end of the session he thanked the new counselor for being so understanding. He still needed more sessions, but this was definitely a step in the right direction. He was less scared of turbolifts, but thankfully the counseling department had gotten around to writing him a perscription for anti-anxiety medication.

The hybrid walks in, tear stains on her face. She was terrible. She cried all night. Until she realized she needed help, so we went to the 777 counselor. "H-hello?"

Anaaddol looked up to see a fellow Lt. JG, Vulcanoid with short black hair. She looked rather distressed. "Hello," Xe said with a soft smile. "Can I help you?" Xe asked, crossing xir legs.

"I need counseling..."

"Well, what for?" Anaaddol pressed, gesturing to the chair across from xem. "I can try and help, but I need to know what you need," The half-Betazoid, half-Klingon counselor wasn't quite sure what was wrong with this science officer, but xe would do xir best.

"I feel like everyone hates me. I don't know why. I need to know how to not feel or think this way." She sat down

"Hmm. Well, why don't you tell me a little bit about what happened?"

"I got drunk, super drunk. And when I went to the sick bay, I treated Dr. M'ow like a house cat. They purred like a chainsaw! Now, I think they hate me!"

"Hmm. And why do you think that?" Anaaddol asked, writing something on a clipboard and then looking up at the Vulcanoid.

"They looked at me funny, they seemed uncomfortable around me."

"Have you apologized to them? It's often easy to forget that step to forgiveness," Anaaddol said wisely.

"I did, but I feel like that wasn't enough."

"Well, sometimes, all we can do is give people time," Anaaddol told her, giving her a sympathetic look. "Maybe let Dr. M'ow process. They're a very forgiving person, they just have very strict...boundaries. Sorry, I forgot the word for a second,"

"I understand, but what can I do to feel better?"

Anaaddol thought for a moment before speaking. This was a tough question, xe wasn’t sure there was much she could do. “Well,” Xe began. “Sometimes, we just need to let guilt exist, and eventually, it dissipates,” Xe said, choosing xir words carefully.

She nods, she felt better during this talk. "Have you ever been to New Romulus?"

“I have not,” Anaaddol said, shaking xir head. Xe hadn’t traveled much at all, apart from Betazed, where xe’d grown up, the Starbase xe’d been posted on before, and Earth.

"I was thinking of going over there when we get shore leave, to understand my Romulan, maybe much better than my Vulcan side."

“I see no reason why you shouldn’t,” The counselor nodded, smiling at xir patient.

"Thank you counselor!" She smiled and walked out of the room.

Anaaddol nodded, preparing for xir next session.

He rang the buzzer and waited a reply.

Ah, there he was, the lad himself, Nalas. "Come in," Xe called, adjusting the room temperature so the Cardassian would be more comfortable. Xe sat down, crossing xir legs and awaiting Nalas's entrance into the office.

Here he do be, the lad Mr. Ratman Nalas. He stepped into the office and greeted the nice Klingon-Betazoid counsellor with a friendly wave. He had been seeing them for a couple weeks now and things have been going well. "Hello Anaa, it's me-- again," He sat down in the chair, cheerful even through his exhaustion from work.

"Hello," Anaaddol smiled back, picking up the file xe had on Nalas. "So, in our last session we discussed stress from work. How have you been handling that recently?" Xe asked, reading over the notes xe'd made. "Everything going well?"

"Work-- Yeah, there's a new Romulan scientist," Nalas began, his expression darkened when he spoke. Thankfully both Cardassians and Bajorans were very emotional people, it was not hard to read his body language. "He kinda reminds me of my father. He's kinda scary and has eyes like this," Nalas said as he narrowed his eyes and used his fingers to signify forehead ridges. He was a pure clown from head to toe for real. "He makes my skin crawl, but... I don't wanna seem spacist, but he's creepy."

"That's understandable," Anaaaddol nodded knowingly. "On my last posting there was an Andorian officer in Medical who reminded me of my Klingon mother, it was very difficult for us to get along. Would you like to work out some strategies for working with or around the new Romulan officer?" Xe asked.

He crossed his arms and sighed, as much as he wanted to make up some excuse to conveniently avoid the bioscience lab, Anaaddol was right. He needed strategies. "I mean, my supervisor is Romulan too, Lieutenant Torvel. This new guy seems harmless-- But umm.. I think I may have upset him. He was teasing me saying he could be a spy and I told him I'm the son of a former Obsidian Order member," And there it was, Nalas could not keep his mouth shut. It was no secret that he had little to zero knowledge about Romulan society and politics. Sure he had to learn some history in the academy, but bold of anyone to assume he remembered any of it. He fiddled with his earring and looked away from the nice counsellor, too nervous and embarrassed. (edited)

"I see. I assume the new officer did not take this well?" Anaaddol asked, tilting xir head and listening as Cecil explained the situation. "You didn't do anything wrong, as far as I can tell. You were just being honest, were you not? It was unkind of him to tease you, I understand your getting upset,"

"It was unkind! I did nothing wrong," Nalas exclaimed as he shook his head. "That's not something to joke about, that's scary-- My father used to say things like that, but he meant it," His voice grew soft and his gaze shifted to the ground at his own feet. "He said like.." Nalas sat up straight and crossed his arms, attempting to do his best Morvar impersonation. “Nehn vrelev zohzuus. （I am not like the others)" He spoke in flawless Rihannsu before slumping back down and sighing. "Scary., all Romulans are like that. I had a scare with another Romulan in a turbolift a few days ago, it was awkward... I wish the Obsidian Order was still around so I could show them a lesson or two." (edited)

"Well...maybe we shouldn't joke about things like that," Anaaddol countered when Nalas commented about wishing the Obsidian Order was still around. "That's something that might encourage the kinds of jokes that you wish to avoid," Xe reasoned. "But I can understand how it scared you. Does the new officer work in the same lab as you? Perhaps your strategy can be avoidance,"

"That's how I feel, really. I don't say it because I'll get a lot of heat for it, I always get attacked for my views but at least the Obsidian Order got things done," And that was probably the weirdest phrase to ever come out of a Bajoran boy's mouth. Nalas took a deep breath and stretched his neck back. He was still pretty exhausted and his restlessness was showing. "I won't say anything about it, don't worry," He reassured his counselor as he dropped his arms to his sides. "Yeah, he's a Xenobiologist and I'm an Exobiologist, same same but different," He looked at Anaaddol and gestured ambiguously. "So our work stations are next to each other," He explained, his hands gesturing to explain two desks side by side. Thankfully in counseling he could be as unhinged and eccentric as he wanted. "I have to work with the Vorta a lot so I have clearance to visit her in her quarters or in another lab if I need equipment. I guess that's the closest to avoidance I can get."

"Could you ask Lieutenant Torvel to move stations?" Anaaddol suggested. "If you explain the situation, perhaps they'd be more open to that?"

"But then that's giving up!" Nalas shook his head. "I know that Romulan is gonna notice something. Those guys have opinions about everything and what if he tries to corner me or intimidate me again-- ahhh!" Honestly, he was getting so worked up over something that probably would never happen. He wasn't Romulan level paranoid, but he was getting there.

"It isn't giving up to attempt to avoid stress, Nalas. It's being smart and knowing what you need to be successful," Anaaddol told him, looking at him with steady eyes and a small smile. "If I'd've stayed working under that Andoiran Commander, do you think I'd still be in Starfleet? No, my Klingon combat training would've taken over, and I'd probably have been court martialed for much the same reason the other therapist, Lieutenant Ferrufino, was."

When the other mentioned Ferrufino Nalas suddenly grew silent. He wasn't going to pretend he knew what the situation was (he only heard rumors), but for the previous counselor to be stripped of his rank and duties it must have been serious. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Anaaddol with a pained expression. "Y-Yeah, I guess you're right. That guy is really creepy... And Ken too, you know that astrophysicist I mentioned. Why are there so many creepy guys in science. I should have gone into engineering with the eccentric weirdos."

Anaaddol laughed softly at this. "It may just be that you haven't found the right crowd yet. Perhaps one day you will, but for now, I think you have some pretty good friends in other departments, don't you? Let's take a moment to acknowledge them, how about,"

"Not the science crowd, they're all weirdos. I had another problem with that girl from the tubes, remember that? It sucked, she was terrible," Nalas said, specifically talking about Maggie. The human girl he got tangled in the tubes with. "Well.. .I have my boyfriend, Eshen... And uh... Jessil," Nalas said thinking about all the friends he had made on the station. Aside from his boyfriend he also had a few other friends, including all of the Cardassians on the station. He was a man with many connections but to call all of those people friends would be a bit of a stretch. "Oh and... Unrelated but there's something I wanted to ask you about."

"And what would that be?" Anaaddol had been 80% sure Nalas was gay, but this was confirmation. Anyway, that wasn't the topic right now, he was trying to ask xem something. Xe gave him xir full attention.

There was no secret that Nalas liked men and exclusively men, however Cardassians and Bajorans did not particularly have the concept of sexuality so it never occurred to him. Anyway, he was excited for his next request. "I want to get cosmetic surgery to look Cardassian. Doctor M'ow agreed to do it if I could get clearance from you that it was necessary for my happiness. I don't want to look full Cardassian, just half. Just some ridges around my eyes and neck. I would love a tail, but that's a lot harder to produce with cosmetic surgery so I'd take just some face ridges."

"Nalas, this is wonderful!" Anaaddol gave him a full, sincere grin. "I can write the clearance as soon as our session is over, this is very exciting news for you!" Xe was overjoyed that xe could help someone become a true version of themself in this manor, it would be a wonderful thing to help along. "Of course I'll approve. I think it would be a very good thing for you,"

"R-Really? You don't think I'm crazy?" Nalas was overjoyed--- really Anaaddol was going to give him clearance? This was something he had wanted ever since he was young. Although, when he was young he had wished to be full Cardassian. Now with his name change and feeling very confident about his identity as Bajoran and Cardassian, he was ready for the next step. "Thank you so much! I will get the surgery as soon as I can. I do worry how I will tell my boyfriend... And my parents. My father never wanted me to get cosmetic surgery, he said a Cardassian face wouldn't suit me."

"Your father can shove his disapproval up his asshole- wait, no, that's inappropriate for a session, apologies," Anaaddol shook xir head. "I'd be happy to help you along this path. In fact, if you want to end this session early so I can right the clearance, I wouldn't mind going a bit over next week. We have...about fifteen minutes left otherwise,"

"I think I am good, thank you so much Anaa! Maybe I won't tell my father-- I mean, he's probably busy on Cardassia, thank you again, this really helps!" Nalas said as he stood up, happier than ever. He had completely forgotten about the scary Romulan and the judgemental Ken. He was gonna get is Cardassian reaffimation surgery at last! He waved to his couneslor before scurrying out the door.

"See you next week, Nalas," Anaaddol smiled.

It was with a 0% enthusiasm that he had received the invitation to meet with this new counsellor. Vince was well aware that it wasn't much of an invitation at all: the date had been handed to him, so it was compulsory. In his opinion it was downright insulting that they had decided to send him to his own replacement, but perhaps that was the point. Maybe this was Carol's way of saying 'you fucked up and now we're down our only psychiatrist, so I'm going to get back at you for it.' (Surely Carol wouldn't be capable of such a thing, but paranoid as ever, Vince couldn't help but entertain it as a possibility.) As much as he didn't want to go, there wasn't any way of backing out. If he ignored this ~~demand~~ invitation then someone somewhere would be ready to tell him off, and he didn't want any more of that... And besides, depsite his reservations, he did know that he needed this. It was with attending this session in mind that he had left his quarters for the first time in what, over a week now? Before then the only time he had left was to attend the court martial. Staying holed up in quarters was hardly healthy but what else was he meant to do? At least this gave him a reason to leave, and a reason to put in the effort to look presentable as well - Vince was the first to tell people to try to wear something nice or do part of their skincare regime because it genuinely would help you to feel better... But he hadn't really followed that guidance until today. In an effort to look presentable he had donned a nice pair of formal trousers, a shirt, and a teal-to-navy gradient cable knit jumper that he felt looked decent, at least. He had even done his hair (i.e. brushed it and given up,) ignoring the fact that the white patches at both sides seemed to have grown more in the last few weeks. At this rate, he'd have no colour to his hair by the age of 36. That was just another thing to be stressed about. 777_divider

19:01

Vince had no desire to be spotted by anyone as he travelled through the station, keeping his head down. With any luck he would have the appearance of any other innocent civilian (although not that he should, considering how 'dishonourably discharged' didn't really spell innocent.) Thankfully it was without incident that he made it to the counselling offices, having walked there on total autopilot until he was stood outside the door to reception. It took a constant effort to cross that boundary between the corridor and the room itself; and when his gaze fell upon the door to his office (not his office any more) he was very much compelled to turn and leave. In fact, he genuinely might have had it not been for a wave from Liangha who was currently manning the reception. Aware that there was no backing out now that he had been noticed, he offered her a slight wave and an already wavering smile before crossing the room to the previously-vacant office now labelled as Eno's. A slow breath in and he hit the door chime, already feeling his heart begin to race with the anxiety of not only this session, but having to be here in general. It was frustrating more than anything -- he had gotten past this, before. Falling back into it now wasn't any fun.

It was almost as soon as the door had been chimed that it immediately opened. A somewhat elderly man was the first sight Vincent saw, having personally come to open the door himself, rather than let the computer do it for him, and thus now standing in the doorway. He had a warn, friendly smile, and stood at roughly 5'4". "Vincent Ferrufino! Come in, come in. Take a seat! Would you like tea? It's freshly brewed!" The man said as he stepped backwards, gesturing into his office as he did. It was vastly different to how Vincent remembered it, having been completely redecorated. There was no desk, but rather a comfy chair, couch, coffee table, and some shelving and cabinets. On top of one of the cabinets was a small stove and kettle, along with everything required to make tea. There was also a PADD on one shelf, and a portable console on another for when it was needed, along with a multitude of plants. It all seemed very warm and welcoming, and far from the traditional office you might expect.

He hadn't been sure what to expect from Eno, considering he knew nothing of the man, but what immediately took him aback was the ~~other~~ counsellor's age, Considering how most people were offered a comfortable retirement at a good age (and that scheme was something that had been in place for years upon years,) it was rare to find someone of an... Advanced age, so to put it, still in work. Some people just enjoyed their jobs, he supposed - and considering the extent to which Eno had decorated, something told him that this man was the sort of person who very much did enjoy his job. As he trailed behind the man he took in the way the office had been redecorated from the standard -- this man clearly had more interior design skill than Vince did, that much was certain. "I'm alright, thank you," he replied, knowing that the invitation to 'tea' was quite obviously just an invite to a counselling session. He only took a seat when Eno did, unconsciously waiting as he would do for a patient - and almost instantly it hit him that it felt very odd to be on this side of the desk again -- or table, in this case. What would he think of himself if he was on the other side, psychoanalysing himself? He had sat as far to the side at the corner of the couch as possible; reserved, unwilling to be open, a desire to not be perceived. Back straight, hands between his knees: tense, anxious. Ugh.

"Suit yourself." The man responded in a light-hearted tone as he helped himself to a cup of tea. "It's always best if you let it brew for about five minutes, I find." He idly commented, before sitting down in the chair to face Vincent with a smile, immediately taking a sip of his hot beverage as soon as he had. "So, what did you do today?" Eno asked, seemingly very casually, before taking another sip of his tea. "Anything nice?" He added, before finally putting his teacup down on the table, right next to a small, well looked after bonsai tree. "I'm sure it must be quite strange for you to be on the opposite side of the coffee table."

Almost instantaneously his gaze snapped to make eye contact with the counsellor's - not out of politeness because they were talking, but because he was already looking for the tell-tale black irises of a Betazoid. Come on now, he had to tell himself: using telepathy without consent was illegal. They weren't even a minute in with this conversation and he was already being paranoid. Eno was simply stating facts, that was all - casual nature, stating facts to bring up topics... This man was already proving himself to be the sort of person who thrived in talk therapy, solely because of the way he acted. A casual nature made people relax, and then they talked more, and so they benefited more. "I scrolled through listings of job advertisements for the whole morning," he ended up replying, finding no reason to not be truthful. Not a single advertisement had been anything he wanted to do -- all he wanted was his commission and his existing job back, thank you very much. "And you are right, it is strange, but strangeness means nothing when it's a necessity."

"Job listings, you say. Well, I'm not one to discourage doing something you enjoy, but don't you think you're rushing yourself?" The man asked, before picking up his cup again and taking another ship. "You're 34, yes? You've got many years ahead of yourself, Vincent. Maybe you should take the opportunity to breathe and smell the flowers, rather than getting back into things." He said with a smile. "There's no harm in giving yourself time, and in not doing so, you won't truly address what has brought you here today."

"What's brought me here today is literal necessity," he replied swiftly, already on the defensive despite not meaning to be. The quick-to-anger problem which hadn't existed before - always having been patient and calm - was easily fuelled by defensiveness. He knew where that stemmed from: years of guilt, then years of trying to convince himself that he wasn't guilty, and then being unsure of what to believe if someone tried to convince him either way. "I don't have an option, this session is mandated. And I'm not allowed to 'get back into things,' as you say, so why not look? I appreciate your concept of taking some time out, but considering I have nothing else to do with my time, there isn't much point in it. I'd rather find something to do than opposed to simply stagnate- "which was exactly what he had been doing so far, hidden away in his quarters going back and forth between guilt and anger and desolation, but he let that part go unsaid.

"Going through job listings, even though you can't get the one you want, isn't very healthy." Eno said, before putting his tea back down on the table. "Yes, it is something to do, but is it something you want to do? Is it something you enjoy doing? There are other things you could do, other healthier things, Vincent." The man said softly, before taking a brief pause to think. "I'm sure you'd much rather enjoy going for a walk, or getting a nice, fresh drink on the promenade, or even visiting the holodeck. Of course, I'm not you, but I know staring at a screen all day wouldn't be very fun for me to do." He added with a chuckle, before slightly changing how he was seated. "If anything, Vincent, sitting in your quarters and looking at job offers all day is stagnating. I assume you've stayed in your quarters, anyway, otherwise you would've told me if you had gone some place nice when I asked earlier." He said with a friendly smile.

"I am aware," he mused, the bitter hint to his tone contrasting that of how Eno spoke and sat and acted in general. "And that is why I am trying to fix it. What am I supposed to do: go for a walk or go to the promenade or the holodeck every day for the remaining what, the remaining 354 days that I'm not allowed to serve as even a counsellor, never mind as a doctor - the job that I have put years upon years of work into?" Oh, it was very easy to fall into the bitterness - it was easy when moping by yourself, and it was easy when talking about it to someone else who greatly contrasted your own current emotions and ideas. "That isn't productive. It would not keep me occupied. So despite yes, having remained in my quarters for this time, I am still trying to fix things."

Despite Vincent’s tone, Eno’s expressions and tone remained the same. He picked his tea up again to take another sip, which he did, before responding. “Not everything you do has to feel productive. Going for a walk gets you exercise, and gives you a change of scenery. Sitting amongst nature can help clear your mind and help you focus on what you want and need. Enjoying hobbies on the holodeck keep you focused and your mind sharp. I go for a walk every day, and I think everyone would benefit if they did the same.” He said with a smile. “How do you want to fix things, Vincent? Is sitting in your quarters going to benefit your mental health?” He asked, knowing full well the man sat in front of him was as knowledgable as him on mental health.

It wasn't as if Eno was wrong. In fact, the man was entirely right. The first thing that was suggested to anyone suffering from a 'low mood' (as people liked to call it before coming out with the scary 'depression' word) was all generic wellbeing and self-care advice. Go for a walk, have a cup of tea... It was all helpful, but sometimes it wasn't enough, and it was very easy to become so enveloped in that fact that you didn't even try. He exhaled slowly, trying to find a way past that plaguing bitterness and find some sort of agreement instead. He understood Eno's points, he wouldn't disagree with them: it was just that he was so damned fed up that agreement didn't seem obtainable. "I know that it isn't going to benefit anything, but I have said how I want to fix things. First would be finding a new career so I have something to do with myself, and second would be twenty milligrams of escitalopram per day." The end statement was accented with a shrug as if to say 'see, I have this worked out,' but did he really?

Enomoto remained silent for a short moment, figuring out just what to say next. He filled the time by taking a sip of his tea, which acted as a diversion to him processing everything that had been said. “That does seem like a plan, but do you think it would actually work? Working doesn’t address the things that trouble you, and it doesn’t help you improve yourself. It’s merely a distraction from what you should be doing: Working through everything. I know you have a lot stored up in that brain of yours that you’ve never properly addressed, and not doing so will only end you up in the same situation you experienced in General Practice.” The man said softly.

And just like it always did, the bitterness simply crashed. All of Eno's statements had been factual, had been true; but this truth hit hard, somehow. His gaze slid downwards, head bowed towards the floor. For a good moment there was a silence only broken by the sound of him exhaling out in a slow sigh; and when he spoke the anger had vanished - voice quiet, weary. "I know. I know that I know. I knew before that incident, and I did nothing. I knew what was happening and I ignored it, avoided it, and now I am doing the same. And I know that I need to do something about it, I know that this inactivity will not get me anywhere, I know- so why don't I do anything?" The question was rhetorical, and entirely to himself. Slowly, he shook his head. "No puedo hacerlo otra vez," he stated, before stating it again in Standard immediately afterwards, "I cannot go through this again. And this time - this time, it is worse. I cannot work, and as you say, I shouldn't. And it isn't as if I can. Through my own stupidity I have thrown my career away. Sixteen years of continued work and training, gone. All of that work to fight through this before, pointless, because I decided to be stupid, and inactive, and not seek help when I knew that I needed it, and then to relapse-" A shuddering breath was drawn in, verbal pace having picked up, on the edge of his conversation turning into rambling. "And if I could work, what else would I do? What else would I do instead of that? There isn't anything else. My life's work is gone. Any chance to help people, gone. My reputation, gone; I can only begin to think of people's perception of me, and imagine if my family knew. So -- why try? If there is nothing left-" his voice hitched, the end of the answer to his own earlier question being stated in not much more of a whisper. "-Then why try?"

Eno listened patiently as Vincent spoke, avoiding sipping his tea so as to not audibly interrupt the man as he went through his own thoughts. Once he was certain the man had stopped, he took a second to figure out just what to say next, sipping his tea as he did. “Why try indeed, Vincent. That is a question many people ask. I would not be surprised if everyone has asked that question at least once. I know I have.” The man said with a smile. “But there is something left. Two somethings. Your family, and your future. Your career is not yet over, not at all. It is just on pause mode while you get the help and support you’ve needed for so long.” He said, before sipping his tea yet again. “And you really shouldn’t worry about your reputation. I’ve ready many a file and dealt with many Starfleet officers who have had struggles. We people in the Federation like to forgive people and support them, because it’s the right thing to do, and because we care. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone has struggles, but you cannot let them define who you are, or who you’ll become.”

With the more Enomoto spoke, the more incredulous Vince felt towards what was being said. A good part of the man's speech ended up going unheard towards the end, mind now fixated on certain parts instead, going over them like a stuck record. Despite his anxiety towards this conversation, Vince had hoped that it would be productive, had known that it was necessary and that it should help -- but instead of it being productive, he now found it derailing faster than a train that had quite literally had its rails taken away. No, it wasn't the conversation that was derailing - it was him. Again. "'Pause mode?'" He questioned, "'Forgive people'? There is no pause mode. I am a physician, a psychiatrist, with two months left before fully qualifying - again - and now I can't. I am a former trauma doctor who is now legally required to perform nothing other than basic first aid! I think the court martial already established that there isn't any forgiveness here - and why should there be? I don't deserve it!" It was horrifying how the bitterness had dissipated and turned into upset and then flared into anger in the space of seconds. It terrified him, having only felt this way once before, moments before he harmed someone. In a movement that almost seemed painstaking he placed his elbows upon his knees, hands going to his head, fingers lacing into his hair and grasping tightly as if he took the physical frustration out on himself then he wouldn't on anyone else. Dios, Dios Dios Dios, his breakdowns and panic attacks had never been like this before, what the fuck was wrong with him? Even through the flurry of anger and guilt and fear and with his head spinning and already beginning to feel the disassociation creeping in, he could tell that this wasn't good, this wasn't right. He was worse than he had thought, it was all worse than he had thought - stupid, stupid, stupid- 777_divider

00:46

It was in a desperate effort to claw his way back that he focussed on anything that he could: the texture of his hair that he was close to pulling out if he tightened his grasp any further, the ever-present ambient background noise from the station's systems that he could only just hear past the ringing in his ears, the smell of whatever sort of tea Enomoto had brewed. "It's- not usually like this-" He managed to all but choke out, well aware that his sudden spiral would hardly have created the picture of stability, especially considering that there had been barely anything said to send him into this. "I'm not- not usually like this-"

“And the fact you know you are not usually like this is good.” Eno replied gently, before taking another small sip of tea as he carefully watched the man in front of him, who it was very clear to him was now the exact definition of a patient. ”Everyone deserves forgiveness, Vincent. It is not up to us to decide who does or does not. Not you, not me. But it is down to you to let people forgive you, and with time, they will. Time heals people, but people need to let that happen. They want everything to be fixed and back to how it was straight away, but all they are doing is stopping themselves from healing, from becoming better people. I know you do not want to feel they way you do, and nor would anyone, but it takes time, and patience, and help, and support. There are still people who care about you, Vincent. People you know, people you are yet to know, but people care about you. There are people who do not care what you did because they know you need and deserve help and support, and I am one of them. It is not just my job and duty to help you, Vincent. I want to help you. I volunteered to help you because I know you deserve it, and because I thought it would be easier for you to talk to someone you didn't know, rather than one of your old colleagues." The man said with a smile. "You need a nice, calm place to be where you can talk to someone without the worry of being judged, and this is the place for you to do it, along with your quarters. Although, I much prefer my office. Most quarters don't have a kettle." He added jokingly with a chuckle.

It was while Enomoto was talking that Vince tried desperately hard to focus on those words: not fully processing what was being said, but latching onto the speech like a lifeline. It was anything to help combat the lingering anger and the feeling of depersonalisation which was already setting in. Enotomo's words were real and he was hearing them, and could understand them with the more he focussed, instead of slipping into the feeling as though everything was muffled and that it wasn't really him listening to what was being said at all. Both hands moved from where he had fingers laced tightly into his hair, running them down his face to press palms of his hands to his eyes instead. "I know, I know," he managed to reply, voice still wavering and having to make a conscious effort to speak through the growing panic and anger and everything that he hated, really. "I know, because I get people to understand this all the time. I get people to come to this realisation, or I tell them when they don't work it out for themselves. I know this, I'm- Just a hypocrite, really-" There was another moment where his voice hitched and he broke off into a shuddering exhale. "I hear what you say, and I understand what you say. It just... Is not so easy to accept this despite knowing that it's all true. And- The thing is- I tell people that it isn't easy to accept. That it takes conscious effort to come to terms with this sort of thing, to forgive yourself first, to work through it and move on. I know this. I know all of this. I'm just - hypocritical. Just a hypocritical..."

"You are not a hypocrite, Vincent. It is one thing to give out advice and support, but it is another thing entirely to have to receive it. It took me many years to realise I was terrible at listening to my own advice." The man said with a small chuckle. "Our job as carers is to help other people, but no one ever tells us to help ourselves. But we cannot help others without helping eachother first, can we?" He said, before taking a sip of tea. "You know as much as I do, Vincent. It is my job to help you through all of this, but it is your job to help yourself. If anything, the fact you know everything I'm saying is true makes my job a lit easier." He added with a chuckle. "You should not be ashamed of needing help, because everyone needs it once in a while, even those who are meant to be the ones giving the help. We are all in this together, so we should look after eachother."

"I'm not ashamed of it," he replied, voice finally settling from that wavering tone and becoming quiet again - quiet, but at least steadier. Eventually he let his hands fall back to his lap, head remaining bowed, however. "Perhaps it is the one thing that I'm not hypocritical about. There isn't a stigma surrounding mental health any more. The issue is just... Being here again. Going through it again, and finding a reason for going through it instead of just-" giving in, the silence provided. "...It's about the guilt, and the regret: at having ignored this instead of acting upon it, at where it's led me, about how I've, you know-" he gave a vague gesture of a hand, the back of which was once again converted in marks from that unhealthy habit of scratching away, "-ruined everything. And I know, I know, it's about picking yourself up again afterwards -- it's just... Not easy. And it's especially not easy when it's worse than last time." The ~~counsellor~~ generic civilian lapsed into silence then, thankful that he had managed to stave off the feeling of dissociation that had been creeping in, but also still very much aware of how he had gone through a multitude of intense emotion in space of minutes, ending in that downright anger and a rapidly encroaching panic attack. He wasn't exaggerating when he said that things were worse than last time. Last time it had been work stress, and panic attacks fuelled by PTSD -- but there had been none of this cycling through emotions so rapidly, none of this anger that had caused him to snap. Just the thought of how much worse it was then made it worse further, like some horrid cycle. 777_divider

20:18

What would he do if he was on the other side? This was a whole mental health cocktail of a case: depression and anxiety symptoms present and fuelled by PTSD, depersonalisation as part of the panic attacks, PTSD fuelling textile hallucinations ending in compulsive destructive behaviour. He'd be prescribing SSRIs, like the escitalopram that had used to work; probably some form of neuroleptic, scheduling the person for regular psychotherapy at the least -- and when they had attacked someone, he'd have had them sectioned for the time being - and he supposed he had been through the equivalent, confined to quarters but not on a psychiatric hold. He wasn't a danger to himself or anyone else, not now, and he shouldn't have been before - stop it, he had to tell himself then before once again fixating on that - so the next steps to fix everything (aside from just going back to work, and if he was seeing it from the HCP perspective then he would have relieved himself from duty too), then it was just down to counselling and getting that prescription... But there was an issue with the latter. Counsellors couldn't prescribe. He was the only psychiatrist on the team, and he couldn't exactly sign off on his own prescription. That meant the only alternative would be speaking with the staff within sickbay -- and God, that was the last place he wanted to be and the last people he wanted to see. There really was going to be no solution, was there?

Eno took a sip of his tea once Vincent had finished speaking, contemplating what to say, and watching his behaviour closely. “I find almost nothing is easy in life, but then again, that might just because I am not as young as I used to be.” The man joked with a chuckle, before sipping his tea yet again. Almost empty… “Someone having to return to a counsellor after a long time of not visiting one is always difficult in one way or another. Some feel shame, some feel guilt, some feel it entirely unnecessary, and others find it hard to get the motivation to come. Many of my past patients have felt guilt for not addressing their struggles sooner, but there is no point in wasting your energy on that. You are here now, and that is what really matters. Now is the time to act on this, no matter how difficult it is, because you have the opportunity and the support to do so. Sometimes all you need to start the ball rolling is someone else’s encouragement and support.” He said with a smile. (edited)

"I know," came his reply, once again reiterating that he understood. He was well aware of all of this - it was just hard to accept as a reality when you were in this sort of mindset. But he knew, he did, and he had said that he did. He supposed that this was one of Enomoto's own counselling methods: drill an idea into a person's head until they believed it. Reinforcing positive thought was a legitimate method... But when it was so repetitive it became frustrating. At least the constant reiteration gave him something to focus on: the counsellor's steady tone at least helped to keep him grounded. Certain parts of what the man said, though... Vince couldn't help but dislike. It was always so difficult, a counsellor seeking counselling - there was always something you would have done differently or wouldn't have done at all. "I know - and that's why I'm here. I know it is necessary, and I know that if I didn't attend then someone would end up going out of their way to find out why. But you say there's no point in 'wasting your energy' on focussing on something -- and you know it doesn't work like that. It's down to a person's unconscious mind, or subconscious thought, or a chemical imbalance up here-" he tapped a finger against his forehead at that, accentuating the point. "-It isn't as easy as 'not wasting your energy,' and we both know that even with all of this initial reassurance, it takes far more than that."

“That is true.” Eno responded, taking a sip of his tea straight after. Empty... “I am not afraid to admit that I am used to patients taking my words as guidance and reassurance, more than scientific fact. It is very obvious you are on an equal, if not higher level of understanding of the brain than I am, Vincent.” The man said with a smile. “After all, you have had more advanced training than I. But I think that is good. I think you being able to use all of you knowledge to benefit yourself is a useful skill, but it also makes it all the harder when you know what you should be doing but struggle to or can’t.” He said as he stood up, going to put his cup over by the kettle. “I want to apologise if my methods are annoying or frustrating, Vincent. I am used to working with people, but not those who already know what I should be saying.” He said with a chuckle, before returning to his seat.

Vince had idly tracked the man's movement, listening all the while. Once again he was tempted to query the man's species, seeing as how he brought up what Vince had thought, entirely unprompted... But it didn't take an empath or telepath to work anything out. Enomoto was trained in reading people, and despite usually being able to keep up that practiced neutrality, right now Vince was an incredibly unstable open book. Between body language, word choice, and tone; it probably didn't take much to pick up on how his attitude towards this conversation changed (even with it changing so swiftly, legitimately leaving him with a headache from his brain deciding to act like an emotional yo-yo. It was in moments like this that he felt Dipoto was right: he really wasn't fit to be in the fleet, was he?) 777_divider

02:03

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, now guilty. It wasn't this counsellor's fault that this wasn't going particularly well. It was his own reluctance. "I'm sorry -- there's nothing wrong with what you are doing, I promise. ...It's just the difficulty in counselling the counsellor, I suppose; and people always say that doctors make the worst patients. I know you're just doing your job by your methods. I appreciate that, and it isn't right for me to be bitter towards that, or to you, or to take anything out on you. I shouldn't take it out on myself either -- but I do. It's that vicious cycle of allowing yourself to feel a certain way, acknowledging that it isn't your fault, and then falling back into blaming yourself anyway... All of it is a vicious cycle." Vince let his hand drop again, this time entwining his fingers together a little more tightly than he should. "...I understand why you say I shouldn't be at work, or why Lieutenant Dipoto and the jury decided I'm not fit to serve in the fleet or even practice medicine outside of it. I am not the most mentally stable of people right now. And fixing that takes time, and effort, and effort that I don't have-" his voice pitched up at the end, stop breaking down, stop breaking down, "- but effort that I have to have, for what would I do with myself otherwise? It's just... Not easy. I know it never is. But the struggle to get better doesn't help - it just makes it all worse."

Now tealess, Eno sat quietly as he listened to what Vincent had to say. He already regretted not pouring another cup. "In time you will find that effort, Vincent. It starts small, as you know. Once you start that ball rolling it might get easier to push it, or it might be just as hard, but the important thing is that it is moving, which it will do. The important thing to always remember is that you do not have to push this ball by itself; There are others that can help you, including myself. You do not have to go through any of this alone, and eventually you will find that the struggle was worth it, even if it seems like an immovable obstacle." The man said warmly, already regretting not using 'boulder' as the acronym instead of 'ball'. "All it takes is one step forward, which you know you have to make. In fact, I might argue that, despite it being mandatory, you coming here without a fuss and talking to me might have been that first step in the right direction."

There was another slow exhale from Vince and he scrubbed both hands over his face again before settling - it was obvious he was the sort of person who couldn't sit still or constantly fidgeted when having sorts of conversations like these. "You're right," he ended up concurring, "the first step is showing up, after all. At least I did that, proper effort behind it or not. It's the first step - that's what I'd say to anybody else." And he needed to be able to say it to himself, but just like so many people out there, he was the sort that failed to take his own advice. "And I am well aware that I need to find the effort, because the alternative is... Just wallowing away. Let's face it, it is what I've been doing; it's not productive, it's not going to help anything, and it is what would make things worse. So -- what are your ideas for a plan, moving forward? I know what I would advise a person, but that isn't my job right now -- it's yours, so I would want to hear your thoughts on the matter. What would you advise for next steps?"

"What I would like to do is arrange a weekly session for you. Having regular interactions and support should greatly improve your mental wellbeing, as you already know." The man said with a smile. "It also means I can more easily advise you on ways to improve your lifestyle, or ways to cope better with your emotions and trauma. Also, you mentioned escitalopram earlier. I recall you having been previously prescribed that. Now, as you know, I cannot prescribe any medication, but it might be worth you talking to the pharmacists about it if you feel like having something like that would benefit yourself." He added quite simply, although maintaining the approachable tone and smile as he did.

It mostly lined up with what he would have suggested, aside from the lack of mention of what type of counselling was being recommended. Considering the present conversation he was going to presume psychotherapy - he would have gladly swapped that out for cognitive behavioural, but considering how Vince hadn't had opportunity to look up what Eno was trained in, there was a chance that the counsellor offered psychotherapy only. Vince shook off any form of discontent towards that -- anything was a step forwards right now. The latter, however... He paused for a moment in what could only be described as apprehensive contemplation, fidgeting with the cuff of his jumper's sleeve. "It's... Not really about benefit, it's more about necessity. We both know the benefit of counselling, but by itself it hasn't yielded results for me -- and considering how things are... Different, this time," read: significantly worse, "I... For anyone else with a history like this and current presentation like this, I would be prescribing them with some form of SSRI and probably an antipsychotic -- not to self-diagnose or self-medicate, but that's how I would view it for anyone else. The issue would be obtaining the prescription: I can't decide upon my own prescription, nor can I legally prescribe anyone else anything any more-" let's not go down that route and start the bitter talk again, focus, "-and I will be the first to admit that I would much rather not be seen even in proximity of that medical bay right now."

Eno listened along politely, really wishing he still had some tea to drink. "It is understandable for you to not want to go near the medical facilities, but it is something you will have to do eventually. Not today, not tomorrow, but you cannot stop yourself going there when you need help and support. Medical staff are not judgemental people, and as much as the memories of recent events will be stronger there, you will have to push past all of that for your own benefit. Perhaps going with someone you know might help. It is never expected for someone to face their struggles alone." He said with a smile. He paused for a moment before continuing. "We have a lot to work on over the coming months, Vincent, but it is all par for the course, and I for one look forward to supporting you on this journey."

"Having worked in the medical field for a good while now, sir, I can tell you that they are still judgemental. It may be our- their job to treat without any form of discrimination, but everyone still holds their own personal opinions, biases, and grudges. I argued and walked out on the CMO, assaulted an ER physician, and then abandoned assisting with our injured ACMO. Something tells me that I am the last person that any of them would want to see right now - the last person that a lot of people would want to see right now -- and I understand that." It was yet again that he broke eye-contact to allow his gaze to focus on the floor instead. Fingers that had been fidgeting with the end of his jumper's sleeve moved to the back of his hand instead, scratching at a myriad of already-present marks -- until he caught himself, that had tightening around the other, and he forced himself to look back to the counsellor instead. That final statement seemed to clearly indicate the end of this conversation, and while he was glad he had showed up, Vince wouldn't pretend that he wanted to linger here longer than he had to. "But it's fine: I'll go, eventually. I don't know when that may be, but I am aware I will have to, so... I will - in time, as you say. And I appreciate you taking the time out of your own to speak with me today."

Eno had already clocked Vincent’s scratching, and the previous marks, but decided not to bring it up right now. “It is no trouble at all, Vincent.” The man replied with a smile. “I enjoy talking to people, so I will always consider it a good use of my time, no matter the reason for the conversation.” He added, before standing up, feeling glad to be moving once again. “Same time next week? I will send a schedule to your console. You can let me know if it works for you, or if you would rather have a different time and day each week. I can include notes on the type of counselling if you like.”

"I have nothing else to do with my time aside from a continuing and disappointing job search," he mused in reply while taking Eno's cue, standing as well to head to the door. "So whenever fits in with your own schedule works by me. I... Suppose you'll already be relatively busy, considering how all of my own patients had to be distributed between the rest of you. Apologies for that," Vince then added, managing to give a very slight smile but one that didn't confirm whether he was joking or not with that apology - judging from the course of their conversation already, it could well have been legitimate. "So please - any time, just whatever works for you. I'll... Do my best to show up." No, he would show up, he told himself: how many times did he have to say to himself that if he didn't, then nothing would improve? It really was like an endless cycle of conflict inside of his head. "Thank you again," he then concluded with a polite nod and headed out of the office, giving a brief wave to the receptionist on the way out before disappearing out into the corridor, once again travelling with his head down.

Two attempted to enter the office, but instead kind of just stood in the doorway. His brain was panicking, telling him that this was a horrible idea, why did he even agree to go get therapy?! He began to regret not bringing Puff, but he couldn’t just back out of it without at least trying…. Right…?

He was just pacing the room, so much had occurred and he had just gotten here no doubt his services would definitely be required. For now though he was spending the time unpacking what little he was able to fit into his little bag. The office certainly felt a little too sterile, but he would fix that eventually. He replicated coffee and waited for the patients to come rolling in, why did he even replicate coffee? He hates coffee.

Two took a deep breath, then entered the office. He tried to hide his shaking hands, why was such a normal thing so terrifying?! “Um hi…. I’m here by recommendation of uh…. Probably the majority of this officers on this starbase…” He wasn’t really sure what you were supposed to say when you came to therapy, but this seemed right?

He looked up from his PADD, with a smile, no appointment. Not entirely uncommon, perhaps a bit rude but that was alright. “Yes, welcome. Please have a seat, and make yourself comfortable. I don’t know most of the officers on the station yet, but their recommendations don’t matter, what matters is that you’ve chosen to come talk to someone, I’m honored you came to me. Can I get you anything? Tea perhaps?”

”Oh erm, thanks, but i can’t really drink anything….” Two sat down, taping his cybernetic hand against the armrest “I was kind of, well, threatened if i didnt cone think…. Wait did that sound rude…? Sorry….!” Okay, not to bad so far, maybe it’d all be fine and he could stop panicking….!

“No please. Not at all, I’m just glad you’re here. I really am grateful you’ve come. But one thing? I don’t want this to feel forced, so if you feel you don’t need help, I won’t take it as an offense if you want to leave.” He held his smile, he wasn’t quite keen on filling a check box on someone’s list.

[D] Lilian sat patiently in the waiting room. She wasn't here for anything specifically, but she preached the importance of routine therapy even if not for anything so she practiced it too.

L'or walks into the room with a steaming mug of tea in a glass mug, a small smile on her lips. "Ah- hello! You're my 0900?"

Lilian stands. "I believe so ma'am, thank you for meeting with me."

She laughs a little, extending her hand for a shake. "It is my job, Lieutenant."

Lilian shakes her hand. "Of course, but still. I am glad for your work." (edited)

L'or sat down at her desk, getting a coaster. She sat her tea down. "And I'm glad that it's here. Say- what did you want to speak me about?"

Lilian settled in her chair. "Well, mostly I just make sure to schedule for therapy at least once a month. Recently though I've just been feeling rather homesick."

"Aw, homesick?" She frowned and sipped her tea. "Tell me about your home- I get a touch homesick too most days."

"I'm from Portland originally. Earth, sorry, I don't know if you don't know if you know the city itself. You know, it's funny, but the thing I miss the most, at least consciously, is the rain." She smile, somewhat bittersweetly, at the memory.

"Portland! How aptly named." L'or laughed a bit. "I suppose there's a great many boats." She tilted her head a little at the comment on the rain. "Sometimes they create rain in the environmental ring- have you visited?"

“Yeah, I get seasick but the seafood was nice.” She smiled a little at the memory. “Yeah I’m there occasionally, keep a small berry garden there. Not as often as I would like to because of work though.”

"Is the homesickness disturbing your work?" L'or frowned. "It is summer shore leave, so it's more than alright if you need to visit Portland."

Lilian bit her lip. “It’s hard to say really. Not exactly something I have a metric for, but I have lost concentration during some quieter moments on shift.”

L'or leaned back with a smile. "I'm going to perscribe you a vacation. If you're struggling to focus, then the best thing you can do is shaking things up a bit."

Lilian nodded. "Makes sense, thank you doctor."

[D] Over the past few weeks Mirrim had slowly but surely added more and more personal touches to her office. The chairs had soft (self knitted) covers in atrocious colour combinations, there was a framed picture on her desk (that was also half filled with small snack bowls) and she had somehow managed to install colour changing lights. Today was a relatively normal day, which meant that Mirrim was knitting in her chair while she waited for the next person to enter the room. Now and then she looked around the room as if there was someone there, before snatching one of the snacks.

On time for his appointment, Nalas chimed the buzzer to the counselling office. He was a little nervous about having a new counsellor that day, but the other alternative was to wait an extra week for Carol to be back from her holiday.

When she heard the noise of the buzzer she opened a drawer that was filled to the brim with yarn and stuffed her current project inside. With a small frown she straightened out her uniform. She would have much prefered to wear her own clothes for the counselling part of her job, but no, she had to look ‘professional’. “Come right in.” After she wiped away a few crumbs from the desk she returned the lights to a warm white tone. Nothing too crazy for new people. A bright smile spread on her face in anticipation.

Nalas stepped into the counselling office looking like a medium sized legend. Six feet tall, messy dark brown hair, clear Bajoran nose ridges, and his silly little Cardassian-inspired earring. "Hey," He waved to the nice counsellor before sitting in the comfy chair. The room had a calming atmosphere, he especially loved the warm lighting. He noticed the snack bowls on the counsellor's desk, this was a good sign for his later snack offering. The seats were comfy too even if they knitted covers looked... Kinda terrible. "I'm Nalas Za'ari, thanks for seeing me today," Nalas said, actually speaking Standard for once so he had his silly little French accent when he spoke.

If it was at all possible her smile got even brighter when he waved at her. Waving back, she gestured towards the chair across from her with her head. “Oh don’t worry it’s no trouble at all, this is my job, no? Come sit down.” Her Standard was accented as well, altho it had gotten considerably less noticeable in the last fifteen years. “If you’re hungry or you just want to, you can take any snacks you want and if you want something to drink just let me know, yes?” From one of the drawers that wasn’t the one with the yarn she took out a PADD and placed it on the table. “My name is Mirrim Katjiary. If you are uncomfortable or have any objections, suggestions or something similar let me know, dear. Are there any questions you have for me before we start?”

Nalas appreciated the kind smile from the counsellor. All the Starfleet counsellors were great, which definitely helped make the experience better. Honestly Nalas was still not very keen on going to counselling, not really because the thing itself was unpleasant, but he would much rather be crafting or working on his Vorta project. "I'm good with the snacks for now and I'd take some orange juice!" Nalas said, his voice as bright as his smile. "It's nice to meet you-- Mirrim?" Nalas wasn't quite sure how to address the counsellor. Carol just let him call her Carol, but that wasn't the case with all counsellors.

Mirrim got up to walk across the room where she replicated some orange juice, a slightly distractingly spicy smelling tea for herself and two more bowls of snacks she had just mow thought of. "The snacks in the white bowls are spicy, just in case you'd like to avoid them." She clearly didn't mind being called by her first name at all. With the grace of someone practiced at serving food and drinks she gently placed the items on the desk, before sitting down again. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." Her smile was still almost too bright, but her voice was entirely genuine. "How about you tell me what you are here for? Just so I know what your expectations are, right dear?"

Nalas took the orange juice from her and drank slowly. It was very citrusy and sweet, his favourite! It was no secret Nalas liked sweet things, sweet and chewy, his favourite! The Bajoran boy was fussy about textures of foods and thus when he saw the bowl of snacks he simply nodded. "Thank you, I'm fine with the juice," He said, sipping the juice happily as the other spoke. "Mmm, I'm here because Carol isn't in this week," Nalas held his cup in his hands. "I've been getting medication for my claustrophobia. I think you read it on my file. I have trouble getting to work because the turbolifts give me panic attacks," He spoke calmly despite the seriousness of what he was saying. "I'm Bajoran, but raised on Cardassia Prime by my Cardassian stepfather. He was very strict," Nalas explained as his expression grew solemn. "If Carol gave you her notes she explains more in detail what happened at home," Like how Nalas' father would lock him in the closet as punishment. "Anyway, I think I want to try to lower my dosage this week, I've been doing pretty well with being on time for work."

Right, she remembered his file, quite vividly actually. She had been absolutely furious and sad for the young man while reading it. No child deserved to be treated like that. Just the thought of someone locking her any of her own little ones up anywhere was more than enough to make her ok with… well not murder, she was a doctor after all, but quite a lot of other possibly illegal things. If she ever were to meet the young one's stepfather she would…. give him a piece of her mind alright. "Oh yes Carol, she is a darling, you're in the best hands. Her notes are amazingly easy to read too… unlike some other people's, but I shouldn't say that." She twirled a strand of her hair around her index finger and opened up the PADD to look over Carol’s notes again just so she could make sure whether his request was something she could approve of. "Alright, as long as you promise to be careful I don't see any reason we can't try to lower the dosage a little. You obviously know all of the techniques already, so I won't bother you with that, unless of course you want to go over them again? But definitely make sure you carry around enough medication so you will have something in case you really need it and don’t feel bad if it doesn’t work out right away, yes?" For a little while she was quiet while she made some notes. “So, has anything come up since your last meeting with Carol that you would like to go over? I will trade you a scarf for your secrets, if you want to.” That last line was not meant seriously, it was obvious in her voice that it wasn’t, still her eye sparkled with mistshive and she opened up the drawer with the yarn as if to show off her goods.

Nalas sat back on the chair and swung his legs and the other spoke. He chuckled at the comment about some other counsellors having difficult to read notes. He could totally relate, the boy with the very cursed scribbles that clearly had some meaning. He was a scientist after all, can't be bothered with penmanship especially when PADDs existed. "I promise! And I know all the techniques. I've been doing better with sleep and diet too," Indeed Nalas had been getting more protein in his diet, not just sipping sweet drinks-- the orange juice didn't count. It was healthy-ish! He sipped his little orange juice a little as he thought about what to say next. "A scarf for my secrets? Actually--" Nalas quickly inhaled the last of the orange juice and placed the empty cup to the side of the chair. He had a tiny bag and rummaged through it to pull out-- a box with a piece of pale yellow cloth with moon designs in blue. "I made these-- they're a Bajoran snack called mooncakes! It's the Bajoran harvest month and I thought it'd be nice to make these for my friends," Nalas stood up and walked over to the nice counsellor. "It's a dense treat so eat it slowly," Inside the box was a pastry that resembled a mini cake, with an intricate design printed on the top. Swirls surrounded two bold letters in the middle. Unlike Bajoran cakes the text Nalas had written was not Bajoran-- but Cardassian (because he was bad at writing Bajoran). Inside the pastry was a dense and sweet nutty filling.

Mirrim nodded along and sipped her own drink, quite happy with the replicator's ability to produce the just right taste. It reminded her of Gajina’s home. Her mother would make it for her and her sister whenever one of them was sick or sad. For a moment she let her thoughts drift to what her parents would have thought of where she had ended up and quickly decided that while she wasn’t sure how exactly they’d react to her joining Starfleet, their faces would have been quite the sight to behold. Returning her thoughts to the present she made a few more quick notes. “Alright for now I’d say you can drop every third dosage of medication, if and only if you feel well enough that day. How does that sound? And that is amazing.” She smiled brightly. “If everything is going well, I’d say continue doing what you are doing and definitely let me know if you need anything. I can make time almost always.” Yeah, she could make time alright, a bit too literally actually, altho she definitely had no intentions of deaging herself again. Carefully taking the box, she pushed away her PADD so she could place the gift in front of her on the desk. “Oh that is so sweet of you. Thank you.” For a while she admired the pattern on the cake, before looking back up at Nalas. “I suppose I could also trade you a scarf for this, hm?” She then turned to her drawer and began to put aside multiple packages of yarn, before pulling out a scarf with all sorts of blue and green colours that she then proceeded to hold towards him. “How about this one? If you want other colours let me know, yes dear? And remember to let me know if you need to talk.”

"I can do that, thank you!" Nalas was happy to get approved for a lower dosage. He understood needing medicine wasn't a bad thing, but there was a part inside of him that didn't want to rely too much on it. The counsellor was really kind and he was glad he came. At first he was a bit uneasy going to a new counsellor in Carol's absence, but Mirrim was so kind. He watched as the woman unwrapped the box to reveal his homemade mooncake. It was definitely not as good as a true Bajoran would make it, but it was certainly still good. Nalas had been talking food with Eshen and trying to improve his own cooking skills. "Yes, a scarf!" Nalas' face lit up when Mirrim pulled out a blue and green scarf. Homemade mooncakes for a homemade scarf? He reached out to take the scarf from her, in awe of the craftsmanship! "Oh, this is so beautiful! I love the colours!" Blue and green, especially green. Nalas loved the green, it matched his eyes too. "I will, and please enjoy the mooncake. I'll cherish this scarf!" He didn't know when he'd wear it since the M-Class environment on the station was comfortable for him and on Cardassia Prime there wasn't much need for warm clothing, but he'd find a use. Maybe him and Eshen could go snow lodging in the holodeck?

Lorin entered the counseling office, silently cursing Elias for ordering her to do this. She needed to rank up so nobody could make her do things like this. She could feel the last shred of her dignity escaping into the air.

The room was lit with an orange light and Mirrim had returned to her current knitting project. When Lorin entered her office she looked up and smiled. ”Hello there. Feel free to sit down. I need to put some things away but I’ll be right with you, yes?” With that she began putting away the different yarns that were currently lying on the desk.

She nodded, sitting down and staring at the floor.

Once the desk was cleared, well as much as it could be with half of it being filled with small snack bowls anyways, Mirrim turned to Lorin again and smiled. “Well first of all it’s nice to meet you. I’m Mirrim Katjiary, but you can call me Mirrim if you want. I work as a counsellor, but I’m also a doctor so you might see me around sickbay as well. If you don’t mind I’ll need your name to look up your file. Do you want anything to drink? Oh and feel free to take any snacks you want.”

“I’m Ensign Lorin Redwood. Just water will be fine, thank you.” She tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair absentmindedly and waited for a response.

Mirrim got up and brought Lorin a glass of water from the replicator. “There you go, dear.” She unlocked her PADD and opened a brand new file to take notes. “Alright, first up, if there’s ever anything you feel uncomfortable with let me know and if you don’t want to talk about something that’s fine. We can work around those things, no need to make this more annoying than it needs be, yes?” After tapping around on her PADD for a few moments, Mirrim looked up and smiled at Lorin. “Let’s start with why you’re here, shall we?”

“I’m here because Lieutenant Elias Murrow ordered me to be here. I had a mild panic attack while on a classified mission.” She said. She didn’t know whether she could talk about the mission, so she didn’t. Damn it, Elias. Why does this always happen.

The ghost of a frown passed over Mirrim’s face before melting right back into a kind smile. She prefered it if people came here out of their own free will rather than being ordered, they were usually more willing to work with her that way. “Has something like that happened before? Don’t worry I won’t judge, it’s more common than you’d think.”

“They’ve started up again recently after not happening for years. Maybe a few times in the last month?” She guessed. She was pretty sure Mirrim was judging. Wasn’t that a counselor’s job? She wasn’t sure.

“Has anything significant happened recently? Have you noticed any similarities between the situations that seem to cause your panic attacks?” Mirrim made a few notes. She was trying to determine what it was the Ensign might need to work on. One way or another she could show her some techniques to calm and ground herself.

“They stopped when I was in the Academy, had one on the first day of my previous posting, and then they started again when my previous posting ended. The posting didn’t end well, if that helps.” She said. When things started or stopped, everything got overwhelming and awful. She hated it, she hated that she was like this.

“That’s something we can definitely work on if you’d like to. For today I’d just like to go over what you can do when you notice something is starting up. Then I’ll give you some time to think about whether you’d like to continue coming here, yes dear? I don’t want to force you into anything and if you’d rather have some other counsellor I can give you some names, right?” Mirrim smiled and brought a file up on her PADD. “I’ll send this to you so you have something to work with, hm?” She then proceeded to show Lorin some basic ways to calm herself down.

“I think they happen when something new is going on. Everything just gets too overwhelming and then someone talks to me and I snap, and then I feel awful about it. I’m sure I’ve ruined a lot of potential relationships that way.” She sighed. She was grateful for the techniques Mirrim showed her, she was certain they’d be useful. But she was always searching for the root of all this, and she wasn’t any closer to finding it.

“Well we probably don’t have enough time now to get to the bottom of this, but… I suppose we can start now if you want. Tell me about the first time you remember having a panic attack, dear. What happened, how did you feel?” Mirrim smiled encouragingly at Lorin, before taking one of the snack bowls and placed it in front of herself. She didn’t take anything from it, just placed it there, then she tilted her head to the side and waited for the other to speak.

“The first one I can remember? There were a bunch of them from back before I went to the Academy, but the one I can recall with the most detail was on my first day at the Academy. I had to go through a bunch of orientation meetings and dealt with being stared at and judged by everyone. I was about one interaction away from losing it. Someone called my fidgeting illogical and then I just ran off. I felt actually sick, I took my pulse and my heart rate was higher than normal- and it all felt awful.” She had felt ashamed of herself for weeks after. That day is when she decided to cast off the rest of her logic. If it would turn her into someone like T’Asha, then she didn’t want it. She couldn’t make it work. It was either her logic or her life, and she picked her life.

Oh that’s right, the whole logic ordeal. Mirrim sighed and took a sip of her long cold tea. “That’s admirable actually, realising you can’t continue to live a certain way. Although that obviously wasn’t the optimal way for it to happen at all.” She didn’t understand why some parents favoured the appearance of logic over teaching their children how to handle emotions, then again she was Orion and not all that knowledgeable on Vulcan culture. Still it was difficult not to judge and develop a grudge against Vulcan parenting methods in general. “So would you say your panic attacks are connected to new people rather than new things in general, or does, say, a new room stress you as well?”

“It depends. Is there a set of completely different things that I am being asked to do with no preparation? Is there something else going on in the room like an annoying noise or smell? Just walking into a new room wouldn’t be enough to set it off. But it is worse around new people.” Especially new Vulcans, she thought. Every time she talked to a full Vulcan was like playing Russian Roulette with a bullet that is coated in acid and is also on fire.

Mirrim thought she had a pretty good guess on what was going on here. “Say what would you think if you were working…” She looked over to her PADD checking Lorin’s division. “... in a lab and a fellow scientist blew up a machine?” Mirrim was very familiar with embarrassing mistakes and it was normal that it took some time until you realised that everyone made them too. Nine hells, there were so many people that just bullshited their way through life.

“I’d be a bit shocked, since it probably made a loud, jarring noise, and whoever was operating it probably screamed. I’d want to help whoever was in danger and eliminate the problem so I could get back to work and not think about it any more. Not enough stress for something to happen unless the room was on fire or something- and then I would focus on evacuating and I wouldn’t think about it until afterwards.” They replied. Explosions were annoying, sure, but they were over quickly. It wouldn’t have time to grate on her nerves and erode her sense of calm.

A bright smile spread on Mirrim’s face. This was exactly what she had wanted to hear. “Wouldn’t you think your collegue is incompetent? Wouldn’t you prefer to not work with them anymore?” She picked up a snack and ate it while she waited to see if Lorin realised what she was trying to say. Sure there might be some idiots that would judge people for genuine mistakes, but most people really didn’t.

“I wouldn’t think that immediately. Maybe they were working with an unknown substance that proved to be volatile, or there was a faulty piece of equipment. I wouldn’t immediately turn to judge them because I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me. I keep my judgements to myself and hope that others will do the same for me.” She replied. She didn’t fault people for honest mistakes.

“I absolutely agree. Maybe they’d never used the machine before and were nervous. Mistakes happen.” Mirrim shrugged but continued to smile. “You’re usually your own harshest judge, most people around you will either not care or not notice you made a mistake to begin with. It’s difficult to not beat yourself up over small mistakes, especially if you’re a perfectionist, but you really don’t have to, you know that right dear? People that get angry at you for trying your best and failing are very much in the minority and quite frankly not very nice people.”

“Sadly, it is very difficult to unlearn something that was drilled into you from when you could first comprehend the world around you.” She stated. Her mother made her a perfectionist and she inherited the mental illness from her dad’s family.

“It’s a shame, our brains really are too caught up in their ways sometimes. I know you can’t just not do something from one moment to the next, changing your thought processes is very much a task of repetition and even more repetition which can be quite exhausting. That precisely is why my job exists to begin with.” Mirrim smiled and closed her PADD. “I think we’ll leave it at that for today if you don’t mind. You don’t have to come back, but I’d be happy to see you. Say, do you know how to knit?”

“No, I don’t know how to knit. And I think I will come back. Maybe unpacking some of my problems will be useful in the future.” She still fidgeted with her hands. It was her stim of sorts.

“You know how to message me? Just let me know when you’d like an appointment, yes dear? And if you tell me what kind of snacks you’d like I can get those too.” She got up to walk Lorin to the door. “Make yourself a nice day, hm?”

After scheduling an appointment with Mirrim a day ago, Lorin found herself walking into her office again. This time, though, she wasn’t forced to come. She actually wanted to work on herself.

The room was lit in a light blue today, but otherwise looked much the same as it had last time. Mirrim herself was knitting on a blanket which wasn’t overly difficult, but certainly took up some space. To avoid collisions between the pastel green rectangle and the many snack bowls, she had cramped them into as little space as possible on the right side of her desk. When Lorin entered her office she looked up and smiled brightly. “Come on in, dear. Take a seat. Tell me about how you've been. I’ll put this away in the meantime and get you… water, was it? Or would you rather have something else today?”

“Water, please. Thank you.” She sat down in the chair in front of Mirrim’s desk, staring at the floor as usual. She was wearing a blue sweater and black jeans, as well as her usual black gloves- less thick than the ones she wore at work, though. She absentmindedly scratched a bug bite under the glove on her left hand. “I’ve.. I came because I messed up. I’ve got a team of three new recruits helping me on a project. We’ve been stressed for who knows how long.. anyway I snapped at one of them for dropping a case and releasing our test subjects into the lab two days ago and I’ve felt awful about it ever since. I’m just a mess right now.”

“Oh dear, I hope no one got hurt?” Mirrim quickly let the unfinished blanket vanish in one of the drawers and brought some water for Lorin and herself, before spreading the snacks a little more heavenly over the desk and bringing up Lorin’s file on her PADD: “I can see how that might be an overwhelming situation and although snapping at them certainly wasn’t the right thing to do, it’s not the end of the world. Have you apologized to them?” There was a short pause in which Mirrim brushed her hair back and slightly tilted her head. “How has your work been when there isn’t an emergency situation?”

“No, we got bit a few times but I’ve been bit before and they aren’t dangerous, just very painful. I’ve apologized to the man who dropped the case. He’s only 22, he just graduated the Academy. I don’t want to ruin his first posting for him.” She had her hands folded in her lap as she sat. She looked tired. She had suitcases under her eyes instead of bags. “I suppose I place a lot of importance on my work. I’ve been wanting a project of my own for so long.. I just want it to go perfectly.”

“Well it seems that aside from snapping at him in the first place you handled the situation quite decently. I’m sure he’ll survive a stressed out colleague. He’ll have to, quite frankly.” She was about to make a comment related to his age, when she realized that she was only supposed to be 25 herself. There was a short pause in which Mirrim’s brain kindly supplied her with the thought: ‘Well I’ll be damned, they all think I’m a child.’ “Did he still seem upset after you apologized?”

“A bit. I’m usually quite nice though. It was definitely jarring for everyone, myself included.” She wasn’t even that old herself, especially for a Vulcan. She looked even younger than she actually was.

Mirrim hummed to signal that she was listening, as she opened a new file on her PADD. “We can go over a few methods that might help you prevent something like this from happening again, if you’d like that.” As soon as she was finished speaking, she reached for the lowest drawer on her desk and took out a basket filled to the brim with knitted stress balls in all the colours imaginable. “I got really bored during my finals for the whole doctor ordeal, you can take one if you’d like.”

“Yes, thank you. To both things.” She took out a blue-and-green stress ball. This was nice. This was good stress relief. She squeezed it once. Nice.

“No trouble at all, dear. That’s what I’m here for after all.” She left the basket standing on the desk for now, but pushed it slightly to the side so she could place her PADD between Lorin and herself. Then she started to list a handful of ways to reduce stress and keep a cool head in critical situations. “I personally like to do something with my hands to keep the stress away… as you can probably see.” Mirrim shrugged and looked at the basket. “I’d say how about you try out whatever methods you feel comfortable with and once you know how well they work you come back here and tell me all about it, yes dear?”

Lorin nodded her head, content with messing around with her new stress ball. She was always looking for new things to distract herself with. Otherwise she’d focus on something less nice. “I’m always doing something or other with my hands.”

“You just need to learn to recognize when something is getting too much for you, so you can stop the pot from boiling over. It’s something many people need to learn, don’t worry.” With a bright smile Mirrim put the basket, not one stress ball less full back into her desk’s drawer. “Well, we’ll see each other again as soon as you think it makes sense, yes dear? And don’t beat yourself up too much, just try your best.”

“Thank you..” She was going to say something else, but she trailed off. She just wanted to go to her quarters and read.

"Have a nice day and take care, dear." Mirrim smile and raised her hand to wave.

She walked into the office, a little tense but not as much as she was the first time she came in. She had scheduled an appointment to try and deal with her nightmares. She was wearing a black sweater and ripped jeans with black gloves with pink flowers.

The lights in the office were forest green today. Mirrim was wearing a purple cardigan over her standard uniform and looked up from her PADD when she heard someone enter the room. Seeing who it was she smiled brightly, before opening Lorin’s file. “Hello there, dear. Sit down, I’ll be with you in a minute.” She got up and, with an empty snack bowl in hand, headed to the replicator. “Would you like a glass of water?”

Not bothering to force eye contact or anything, she instead looked around the room. The lights were cool. She wondered if the lights in her own room were like that too, she had never tried that before. There weren’t luxuries like that in the rooms on Thealin III, not even nice spacious beds. “Yes, thank you.”

“I really ought to convince them to let me get a couch in here, but for now this’ll have to do. If you want anything else just let me know, yes?” Mirrim returned to the desk with two glasses of water, one of which she placed in front of Lorin. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she returned her focus to the matter at hand. “How about we’ll just start with you telling me about what's been bothering you and we’ll see what we can do about it, yes dear?”

“I’ve come because of the nightmares. I’ve had some bad ones lately. I mean, I’ve always had them, but now I’m just terrified to fall asleep because I always wake up worse. Recently I missed a shift because of one. I can’t let that happen again and risk not looking professional.” She would rather suffer from sleep deprivation than miss a shift because she was too weak to push through a damn nightmare. She was ashamed of it. She had lived with them for so long, why was she not just used to it?

Mirrim nodded. Nightmares weren’t uncommon, but they definitely shouldn’t affect you to that extent. “It’s actually really counterproductive to reduce sleep when you have nightmares, dear. I know this might sound like a bad idea, but sleeping enough and at the same time each day might help reduce the amount of dreams you have. If you do have a nightmare it’s important that you wake up completely and try to calm down, you could stand up and walk around your room, drink water or take a shower whatever helps you, after that it’s less likely that your brain returns right back to your dream.” Scrolling through her PADD Mirrim copied a few relevant files into Lorin’s folder. “Do you take any sleep medications?” There was a short pause as she waited for an answer before she continued. “Are your dreams often similar? If so there’s likely an underlying problem that you could work on with me or anyone you feel comfortable with.”

“Usually when I have one, I just give up on sleeping for a couple days and go to work. Shitty coping mechanism, I know, but I’m not at this starbase for a vacation either.” After all, if work wasn’t her main focus, what the hell was she doing here? How would she ever get promoted if she didn’t work? Sleeping just got in the way. It was the only good thing about being Vulcanoid that she could stay up. “No, I don’t take any sleeping meds.” She hadn’t told anyone about this, so she hadn’t been prescribed any. And she wasn’t one to take anything serious like that without a prescription. “Usually they are. Mostly about my old posting, or my childhood on Vulcan. My brain has a lot of horrible stuff to choose from to mess with me.”

“Well that’s… not optimal. I know you feel like you have to prove yourself, dear, but you're not here to work yourself to death either. And since what you've been doing doesn't seem to be working, I think it would be smart to treat the cause of the problem." Mirrim tilted her head and smiled at Lorin. She couldn't exactly force people to do something and she didn't want to either, but sometimes the stories people came to her with made her want to take them at the shoulders and shake some sense into them. Problems didn't usually go away because you ignored them. "If you want to we can go over the details of your nightmares and where they come from more thoroughly. Talking about the things that scare you can take some of the heaviness off your chest."

She stared at the floor, her hands in her lap. She nodded at Mirrim’s first statement. She did need to stop, she just didn’t know what she would do. Her work was very important to her. She didn’t think she was intelligent enough to get promoted via a big project like Nalas, but if she worked diligently for long enough she might anyhow. She didn’t have any ideas for projects anyhow. “Uh, sure, that’ll be fine. It’s less.. scary.. more just things I remember. They usually just make me cry rather than scream.”

Mirrim nodded. Maybe Lorin had a roommate she could wake up when she needed to, it always helped her to have someone around when she was sad. “What do you usually do to stop feeling sad? Is there anything that you know lifts your mood when you’re sad for one reason or another? Something like that might also help with talking about your nightmares here. I could get you your favorite snacks, or some music you like, if you think that might make it easier, or if you’d just like that at all.”

Lorin had never spoken to her roommate before. They might be cool though, she should talk to whoever they were. She should at least say hello, she thought. “Hm… well, I usually read a book or have some coffee. Or cake, as long as I know I don’t have to be in public for a while.” She thought long and hard about what her favorite music was. Heavy metal was definitely not appropriate to play in a counselor’s office, so she had to think about something else. “I usually have a playlist of whatever music’s trending. I like a little bit of everything. As for snacks.. bring me something you like. As long as it doesn’t have a crazy amount of sugar.”

“Alright then, then how about we make an appointment for when we’ll meet next? I’ll bring some of my favorite snacks and some coffee for you. If you can, it might be helpful if you write down what happens in any nightmares that you have until then, that way we can go over current things, yes?” Mirrim smiled at Lorin and opened her calendar. “How about roughly two weeks from now? Do you have time then?” Her eyes quickly searched her schedule for a time that could work, before triumphantly pointing at a time slot. “How about this, tomorrow in two weeks at 1600? Or the day after at 1800… Oh and dear? If you need anything before then, just let me know, yes?”

“That sounds good to me. Thank you so much.” And with that, she mustered up the energy to look Mirrim in the eyes. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t want to look distant or cold or unappreciative. She thought about something for a moment- how Vulcans shunned her for being emotional while she herself could barely decipher her own. The irony was real. “Bye, see you then.” And with that, she waved and walked out.

Another day another colour for the lights in Mirrim's office, an orange glow made the entire room look warm and messed with her colour perception massively. She had recently added a light right next to her desk, that allowed her to turn all the ceiling lights to whatever color she pleased without confusing the coulours of her knitting, or dimming the room too much. Today was a busy day, which she measured by the fact that some of the snacks on her desk were actually empty, so she was currently in the process of replacing them with newly replicated ones.

Snakebyte approached the door. It wasn't open, although to him it felt like it was wide open. He needed a chance to be able to talk to someone he could trust. Someone he knew he could count on. He had very good experiences with the counselor back on the U.S.S. Lux Æterna, so he had high expectations for this new counselor. Snakebyte rang the doorbell, waiting for the signal to enter from the counselor inside. He shifted in his uniform - he was evidently still acclimating himself to the new environment. But somehow he knew he would be okay right now. He called it a hunch in his head.

Mirrim carefully placed the snacks on her desk and closed the research paper she’d been reading on her PADD. She hadn’t gotten very far, barely past the introduction, but that only meant she had something to look forward to after her shift. Instead she opened the file for this next appointment. Someone new. Not unusual, there were so many people on this station even if they didn’t get any new people she didn't think she’d ever run out of new people to meet. It was one of the station’s most appealing qualities. “Come on in.” She pulled up her hair into a low bun and waited for the door to open.

The door opened as Snakebyte stepped inside, scanning around initially for the counselor in the room. Today had rattled him slightly, so he was looking forward to being able to let off some steam, even if it meant him not being his normal energetic self. "Counselor Katjiary?" Snakebyte finally found the counselor at her desk, and a slight smile appeared on his face - one of timid curiosity. He wasn't like this usually - normally he'd be outgoing and extroverted. Right now? He was as big of a softie as ever. He was calmed by the open and inviting atmosphere in the room. Snakebyte put his hand out for Mirrim to shake. "I'm Snakebyte--sorry, I'm Lt. JG. Alan Grayson--ugh... you probably don't know. Barely anyone does."

Mirrim smiled back and took a few steps towards him, meeting him about halfway between the desk and the door. “Yes, that would be me, although you can call me Mirrim, unless you don’t want to of course.” Then she reached for his hand and shook it, her grip firm, but not crushing. “Well, I certainly know now. It’s nice to meet you.” There was a slight questioning quality to her voice and she had tilted her head slightly to the side. “What would you rather have me call you? Oh and feel free to take a seat, dear.” *She nodded towards the chair across from hers at the desk.After she’d returned to the desk, she glance to the replicator in the room, before asking: “Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee, anything else?”

"It's nice to meet you as well, Mirrim," Snakebyte replied, a sense of relief settling in as he could immediately tell how kind and open Mirrim was. It wasn't that he hadn't had anyone like her in the past as the ship's counselor on previous vessels, but coming to a place as large and overwhelming as Starbase 777 certainly instilled a sense of anxiety in him. "I don't really mind what you call me, although personally I prefer Snakebyte as it makes me feel more confident." Snakebyte shuffled over to the seat, taking a moment to absorb the space further before sitting down. "Just a water for now, please, thank you!" His old ship's counselor didn't go the extra mile that Mirrim did.

“Alright, Snakebyte it is. Your water is coming right up.” She flashed him a bright smile, before replicating two glasses of water and brought them back to the desk. “Here you go. You can also take any of these.” Gesturing to the bowls standing to one side of the desk, she sat down. “If you have any questions about ingredients or something, let me know.” “I’d like to start with you just telling me why you’re here. You can be as thorough or as brief as you’d like. Just tell me what you think I should know so that I can help.” She leaned back a little in her chair and carefully searched his face and posture for any signs of discomfort. “If you’d feel more comfortable knowing more about me, you can also ask me questions before you start. Does that sound alright to you?”

"Thank you, Mirrim," Snakebyte replied. He was quite happy with how outwardly supportive Mirrim was - this was unheard of for him! Maybe he just had bad counselors in the past. "Well," Snakebyte began. "Actually yeah, I think it would be better to know about you before I start, thank you for offering that to me. I don't necessarily have any questions, but maybe a general overview would help, please?" It was noticeable he wasn't his usual self when asking this of her. This was one of the few times he felt even more vulnerable than on away missions or life-threatening excursions on other vessels. He was genuinely afraid of saying the wrong thing - one thing that he wouldn't admit to anyone, except his former counselors - and one thing he'd hope to admit soon to Mirrim.

Mirrim’s expression turned thoughtful. What sort of thing would be interesting to him? Perhaps a short overview of her career. “Well, as you’ve most likely already gathered, I'm a counselor on this starbase. I’ve been here for not quite nine months now. This is my first post as a counselor and my second in total. The first one didn’t last particularly long and resulted in this.” She pointed to her missing eye, or rather the eye batch covering it. “While I recovered I saw a counselor myself. The job fascinated me, so I went on to study to become a counselor myself. I knit a lot and like reading. If you ever are in need of socks, scarfs, pullovers or something similar, I’m sure I can do something about that.” In order to demonstrate her knitting she tugged at the cardigan she was wearing. “Is there anything more specific you’d like to know about?”

Snakebyte was impressed by not only her experience but her resiliency as well! "Don't worry, if I think of anything else I'll be sure to ask - you already have an impressive history! I'm glad you took the time to realize what made you happy and what you could be passionate about doing." Then he took a moment to straighten his uniform before beginning. "As for me, though? I'm here for...well, a multitude of reasons that I'm not sure I will be able to cover the entire thing today. I wasn't planning to anyway, but still. Joining this Starbase has been different for me than I really expected. I don't feel like it at the moment but when I'm at my best I am an outgoing guy, I love to have fun, I love to pull jokes and even harmless little pranks on fellow crew members to show them my appreciation for them. I know that's probably not the best way to go about things - I've dialed it back a good amount. But I digress. This atmosphere is just... different. I was recommended from the top to join this Starbase and I accepted quickly. It's definitely a new place, a bigger one than my old ship, the U.S.S. Lux Aeterna. A place where I kind of feel small. Smaller than I have in the past." He took a breath as he started to say the next bit. He said again what he had clearly rehearsed in the past for ease of explanation, but it came out no easier than anything else. "And if you're curious about my nickname... On a mission, my captain chose me as part of the away team on a planet was infested with venomous and lethal snakes. I don't know how it happened or what came over me - but once one bit me, I just ripped it out of my skin, as if I gained an extra set of muscles. I don't remember it well at all, but others say I went into a frenzy, protecting the rest of the away team from an onslaught of other snakes, with phaser and by hand. My captain was part of that away team." And then he added… “I don’t know if… whatever that was is still inside of me. I'm scared of me.”

Mirrim smiled. She’d been doing what she liked to do for many years. Many years more than most people would think she’d even been alive. Counseling was merely another side of the same dice. Her head tilted to the side, she listened to what he said. Working on the starbase had been new for her as well. Starfleet as a whole was quite the change for her, but her first assignment would have been on a ship and working on ships she was used to, both as a Mirrim and as Gajina. Whenever he seemed to pause she nodded to signify that she was listening and following what he was saying. “The starbase is quite large, I’d say it’s quite normal to feel a little small in comparison. Seeing yourself as one of many is terrifying to a lot of people.” She didn’t struggle with feeling insignificant to nearly the same extent as Sankebyte seemed to. But she doubted there were many people on this station that’d never contemplated how they were one among many specks of dust on a starbase that was simultaneously enormous and microscopic in comparison to the galaxy. For her it wasn’t too difficult to disregard them again by focusing on the present, thinking about the people she met or just reading something interesting. “What do you do here? And I don’t mean the name of the position you hold on this station. What kind of tasks do you do while on shift? What do you like to do in your free time?” The story about his nickname was definitely the more unusual part of what he told her. She couldn’t presume to know or understand what exactly had happened to make him act like that. “I assume you were checked over by the medical team after you returned to the ship?” The snakes were apparently lethal and he had been bit, they definitely would have checked him over. “Have you ever experienced anything remotely similar since?”

Snakebyte immediately felt heard. Not just physically, but he instantly felt like someone was listening to him. Maybe he was wrong for being prone to bragging all the time. Maybe it wasn't helping. It just made him feel smaller when no one knew who he was. And it wasn't anyone's fault either. "Thank you, Mirrim, that truly does mean a lot." His voice was quavering yet filled with appreciation. "What do I do?" Snakebyte replied to her next inquiry. "You're right, while my post is Diplomatic Attaché, I spend a lot of my time seeking out communication opportunities. I love talking to people, I love talking to new life too. It makes me feel connected. Other than that, normal duties like researching policies further as they apply to this Starbase specifically, reviewing economic reports, and brushing up on history. But on away missions when I actually get to talk to new life? That's the most rewarding part of it." He joked around with her in this next response. "I know it certainly doesn't seem like it, but I am a theatre lover and an accomplished actor, so talking to people is kind of my thing." Feeling more comfortable, he continued calmly. "As for hobbies? Well, you know my first one is theatre - I should perform here sometime, now that I think of it, but I digress - I love playing guitar. That's also an escape for me. If not playing songs I love, then writing my own songs. That's always good for me. Other than that, I just love to create. Creation is my strong suit. Creativity is what has gotten me to where I am now, honestly." And then he tackled the question that made him worried. "As far as I know I've checked out on all medical exams. But on a few away missions I've blacked out and then woken up to the enemy being defeated. It hasn't happened often, just in situations where I've been with several other crew members and there is an imminent threat."

Snakebyte took a deep sigh before he looked at Mirrim with frightened eyes. "I probably should take some time to clear my head," Snakebyte said. "It's best if I don't pay any attention to it right now as it's causing me some anxiety. I promise, you did nothing wrong." And with that, Snakebyte stood from his chair. He truly did have no ill will toward Mirrim. "Truly, thank you, Mirrim," he said with a kind smile. "It was a privilege meeting you. I hope to be able to come back soon." And with that, he left.

Five minutes before the appointment time arrived, Vara'l proceeded to arrive at the Counsellling offices waiting area and 'checked in' as having arrived on his PADD.

11:50

Once he checked in the Romulan Liberated Borg settled into a chair in the waiting area and called up a chess program on his personal PADD. He'd become deeply focused on his game over time.

Not too long after hearing thst his patient had arrived, Sei appeared in the waiting area to greet his next patient. Sei was quite tall and slender, especially when clad in the deep black Starfleet uniform. With silky black hair tied back in a low braid, he looked like he was floating as he walked. Pointed ears were about the only thing that gave away his species as not human as he had a smooth forehead and no eyebrows to speak of as the areas around his eyes were scarred with only a few bits of metal dotted around his brow bones. "Lieutenant tr'Hara, hello, you may come with me," Sei bowed his head towards his fellow liberated Borg Romulan and stretched out his long pale fingers in a casual beckoning motion. Assuming Vara'l was following, the two would have a short walk down the corridor to the room with the name, 'Lhi erh'Sei, Three of Nine'.

Sei's office was a cozy place with two sofas and a single reclining chair. It looked much different than the pale white walls of the station, it had cozy cottage vibes with a few wooden pieces of furniture and warm orange light. On one shelf laid a collection of books and a few fidget items, free for guests to use. Adjacent to the shelf was a small basket full of plush toys, again, for guests to hold if they needed some emotional support. Sei had a few plants around the room, mostly of Romulan origin, including some succulants and replicas of various starships from across the galaxy. There was a small coffee table between the sofas with a tea pot and two cups and a small bowl of snacks. Some hard candies and crackers, plain foods as Sei himself was not very fond of foods with strong flavours.

Having heard the Lieutenants approach, Vara'l proceeded to stand to meet the as they entered the waiting area. The Liberated borg romulan, having assume a loose at attention posture as the other entered, bowing his head as he returned their greeting. "Jolan'tru Lieutenant and..thank you" He responded as he followed the other along the corridor, his posture already slightly more relaxed as it had been by the revelation that the counsellor that was seeing him happened to themselves by a Liberated Borg. Something, Vara'l being Vara'l, studiously avoided commenting on as he followed closely. The Liberated Borg Romulan pausing before he might have entered the room as he waited, as was in his mind polite, for the other to fully enter the room. Waited and for a moment, slipped into a old habit of checking the corridor and the like for potential avenues of ingress/egress that could be utilized tactically. The Romulan Liberated borg standing briefly paused near the door as his mind mulled the matter over, a hand clenching and unclenching slightly as he analysed the space. It'd be a moment after that when he instinctively reached out for the nearest wall with his metal marred hand and reassured himself as to where he wasn't. (edited)

Sei took note in the other's movements. In stark contrast to the other Romulan's steps, Sei glided down the corridor in a swift motion. The automatic doors to his office opened with a soft 'swoosh' and Sei proceeded inside the room. It was then when he noticed that Vara'l was not as swift to enter. When his eyes found his guest, Vara'l was glancing around the corridor and then reached his hand out towards the wall. Not unsual for many Romulans as they were often in sitautions where they needed to be fully aware of possible exit routes. "My name is Lhi erh'Sei, or just, Sei. Three of Nine. You are safe here, Vara'l," He attempted to reassure the other as he slowly made his way to the coffee table to pour some tea into one of the cups. "Would you like some hot tea? Or water?" He offered, glancing over at Vara'l who was still touching the wall.

Upon being talked at by the other, the Liberated borg Romulan didn't respond for a moment before he twitched and looked back at the counsellor. A briefly distant, not quite there look concealed carefully by Vara'l as he instead forced himself to smile slightly as he instead entered. The other's words not initially getting a proper response as Vara'l recovered. "I'll try to keep that in mind, my apologies Lieutenant Lhi erh'Sei." A apology being what followed before he then responded to their following offer with a comment of. " A cup of Hot tea sounds good, if that's alright, thank you." The Romulan Liberated borg, as he fully stepped into the room, remained standing for now. "Would it be alright if I sit down?" He then asked after a moment spent standing as he observed the different things within the room before him.

Sei pulled over a bean bag chair and sat down before pouring some tea into the second cup. He was glad that Vara'l felt comfortable to enter the room and accepted the tea. After reading the other's file he knew things would have to be taken slowly which was perfectly fine by him. "No need to apologise, and yes you may sit wherever you like," He welcomed, gesturing to the sofas and then to the reclining chair. He smiled right back at Vara'l, a gently curling of his lips and a bow of his head. "If you would like me to adjust the lights or temperature I can do that as well," He added, knowing that not everyone enjoyed the dim lighting or slightly warmer atmosphere. It was cozy to Sei, but the comfort of his guests came first. "This is a safe space for all my guests, you are free to walk around and touch anything you like. I also have some snacks that are free to take as well as extra pillows and blankets," He explained a little about the room to the other. His voice was airy and warm, like a temperate breeze on an autumn day. Light green eyes almost seemed like they were glowing under the orange lights. "How has your day been today, Vara'l?"

Vara'l nodded his thanks before he then settled onto one of the sofa's following the others comment. The Romulan Liberated borg picked up the second cup of tea once he was sure that one was for him, the Romulan watching them carefully as he proceeded to say. "Thank you very much." Their simple thank you as he sat himself down and proceeded to look over to the other as they asked about the lights and the like. "I'm happy with the temperature as it is currently, thank you for asking." He responded calmly, his tone perhaps betraying to a degree the analysis of the situation going on as Vara'l worked to calm himself further, to a degree. "And...thank you, I think I'll help myself to a snack then now.." He then commented, just before the query that followed, Vara'l having just grabbed a snack by the point they asked that. The Liberated Borg Romulan's jaw working a bit as he reacted to the question and briefly toyed with a potential deflection before he plumped on truth, his sons words still firmly entrenched in his thoughts. "...It's been" He began as his jaw twitched again. "Less than agreeable in all honesty" Came the admission, before he expanded upon why. "...I have found myself afflicted by old dreams again and have had enough of a bad day again, my son put his foot down and demanded I come talk to someone." He looked away then, his expression briefly haunted, then pained. "I am not at all fond of being the cause of deep concern like that, my son has enough to deal with, in regards to his own grief." He paused. "So I...chose to come and have a word, even if this is..just another passing discomfort." (edited)

Once Vara'l had picked up his cup, Sei did the same and took a slow sip from it. When the thank you was said he bowed his head out of politeness and then waved a hand towards his little snack bucket. Assortments of colourful hard candies and crackers filled the woven basket, Sei really went all the way with his cottage core office. Upon hearing that the temperature and lighting we're comfortable he nodded his head. He expected as much consideration the two of them were the same species. Sei had already read Vara'l's file and understood his case, but he was glad Vara'l could explain it to him first hand. He looked at Vara'l as he spoke, artificial green eyes blinking slowly as he digested each word. Once he was sure Vara'l had finished his thought he places his cup down and folded his hands on his lap. "I am very sorry to hear that, I can imagine the concern your son must be feeling. He cares a lot for you and I am glad you have someone so positive in your life," As Sei said that a tiny smile crossed his face. He was much more expressive than one would expect from a Romulan, much less a liberated Borg Romulan. "And you seem to care s lot about him in return. You are an excellent father, I am sure Telim is just as proud of you as you are of him," Sei said with a slow nod. "Would you like to talk about these dreams you have been having? There is no pressure to do so, you may tell me whatever you are comfortable with."

Vara'l held the snack he'd acquired for a moment after he'd finished responding to the other, his mind deep in thought as he looked down on it instead of eating it. At least for a moment, the Romulan taking a bite out of the cracker before he looked up and looked at and listened to the counsellor. Their words of sympathy and smile being something that seemed to draw a slight smile of his own from the romulan as he remained silent for a time. Their comment about Telim being someone so positive in his life being something that reminded him about the other Tr'Cora he'd known. It wasn't fair that Telim didn't have Mir, his mom, in his life. Elements damn cancer. His face shadowed with brief but powerful gief at that, tempered only slightly by the talk of Telim and of his pride for his adoptive son. "There's never a day I'm not proud of Telim." He calmly stated quietly as he avoided the comment about..Telim caring like that. That brought up the distressed look that had been plastered on his sons face the'd shaken him out of a night terror. He didn't want to think of that right now. No, instead he forced himself to focus on the dreams themselves.. and on other..things. On the counsellors question. On the promise he'd made to Telim to try and talk to someone about it. "I'll ...talk." He began before he sipped his drink, cleared his throat and spoke once more.. "..Its always of the same ship, occasionally different places upon it sometimes, but ..always ending in my snapping awake in a sweat." The Romulan Liberated borg responded. "...The dreams, I mean" He elaborated as he sipped some more tea and decided he might as well give them more. They'd have his file, he suspected, might as well let them know what part of it to look at. "...First one I served on, the Imperial Romulan Warship Arrenhe, captained by Mhi'Car Tr'Varan."

"Most recent dream's been of... corridor 7, section 12 on deck 4.. I was detailed with a team to hold it against a borg incursion pushing up from deck 5." He fell silent then as his mind briefly recalled memories of that time, of the events leading toward...what had happened. He could almost smell the peculiar disruptor left oddness in the air. At least before he blinked and reminded himself that wasn't possible. "It's....not at all pleasant." He managed as he sipped his tea. "Being back there, even in dreams." Another pause to recover himself concealed, he hoped, as he reached for another snack. "It was the...end result of one of those dreams that got Telim worried, he found me coming out of it and saw how I..Looked."

Sei waited patiently for Vara'l's answer. His gaze not staying on his guest for too long before wandering off to look at the lovely paintings that hung on the wall just past the other's head. Perhaps some Romulans liked the held eye contact, but Sei found that it often made people more uneasy than comforted. The smile on Vara'l's face was a good sign though, followed by the love-filled praise for his son. Not many liberated Borg had family to return to post-liberation, Sei certainly didn't. He nodded slowly as the hearing devices attached to his ears blinked to signify the processing of sounds. Sei gave Vara'l a sympathetic look as he described his dreams, a mix of concern and sadness for the other's reoccurring trauma. It was sadly not uncommon for liberated borg to still have nightmares about their assimilation or the moments that lead up to it. He was unsurprised by the amount of detail Vara'l seemed to remember. He found with Romulans, especially if they grew up within the Star Empire, they often remembered a lot of details about their assimilation. It was that photographic memory that their education system drilled into their minds, which was both a blessing and a curse. "I can imagine what a toll that would take on your body. It sounds incredibly distressing, but I am glad you are able to talk about it with me," Sei said as he picked up his cup of tea from the table again and took a sip. "Would you like to talk about the end result that made your son worried?" Hearing Vara'l talk about his dreams made Sei wonder if he had mentioned any of this to his son. He had a feeling he had not, perhaps that was something that he would suggest they all talk about in the future. Although Telim was young, at the very least, Sei thought being open with emotions would be good for them instead of Vara'l concealing his past entirely.

Eyes betrayed little as Lhi watched him, Vara'ls face while emotional earlier hardening with a carefully schooled mask of control as he finished speaking. The other's sympathy observed and noted dispassionately by a mind that must certainly wanted nothing to do with the emotions more directly addressing something like that might have brought. Vara'l instead focusing as he allowed his mind, trained in Star Empire schools, to call up things as it had once been trained too. A useful skill but a curse also for the many times it had dragged him as he internally screamed through memory after memory he wanted nothing to do with, wanted to forget. If only he could forget. Elements, oh if he could only forget the screams that haunted every dream, every time he was dragged back to that corridor to hell. "Its never been pleasant, I doubt for anyone, memories like that are pleasant." He mused with a unhealthily emotionlessness to his tone. At least for the moment before they asked about Telim again, as their words brought clear into view a pained, haunted look. He'd distressed Telim, he'd hurt him with this, that cut deep. "It's always the same end result, he just saw it again." He softly commented. "I woke up, I think I may have groaned but ah, I was sodden with sweat and my heart rate was..." He winced then smiled awkwardly. "Enough it'd probably have been a cause for concern with some." He'd then looked away for a moment as he reached for another snack. "He's probably as it's occurred a good few times now on and off, Mir and I... didn't want to add to his worries with anything like that, when we talked about it before she passed." Vara'l then paused and Elaborated. "Mir Tr'Cora was his mother, a close friend of mine, she oathed me to look after the lad when it became apparent.. she wasn't going to win her fight against illness." His voice cracked then, ever so slightly, a hint at the depth of grief he felt.

Sei could tell that Vara'l was still holding back, which was to be expected. Although he was fully Romulan, born and raised, he had long made the decision to leave his paranoid past behind once he was liberated. It had not been an easy path, but he hoped that his openness with his own emotions and sympathy would encourage Vara'l to do the same. Even with the drawn out silence, Sei's expression never wavered. He held the same calm and saddened expression as his delicate hands lifted his tea cup up to his lips for occasional sips. He watched as Vara'l continued to take snacks. At the very least, it was a good sign that the other still held an appetite or at least was willing to eat a little. He found it most worrying when his guests were so preoccupied with their own thoughts that the world around them blurred. Hearing about Mir's passing made Sei's heart sink, as if Vara'l hadn't suffered enough losses in his life already. "I am sorry to hear that," He replied, placing his tea cup down one more and leaning a little closer to Vara'l. "It is alright to feel sadness and to embrace your grief. There is no expiration date or limit to how long you can or should mourn," Sei reassured his guest, lips curled into a faint smile. "This is your safe space, Vara'l. You can let it all out, don't worry, I am here to listen," Sei said as he grabbed a box of tissues from one of the side tables and placed it on the table. "I am sure Mir would be so happy to see how you've been raising Telim. I know I am, you seem like a wonderful father and I am so proud of you," Sei's smile grew a little wider, light green eyes flickered with warmed. "Would you like to tell me more about Mir? Or Telim? Whichever you would feel most comfortable talking about."

That haunted grieving look remained firmly on his features as the other responded as they did, talked about expiration dates and called this place a safe place. The grief he felt roiled and smashed against his internal walls he'd reinforced as best as he could have managed, silver-grey eyes clouding with pain as he watched them. As they eventually finished speaking for a moment and placed that box on the table. A box of tissues. "Thank you...for saying that." He responded softly before he fell silent again, let them speak "...I hope she would be, proud I mean... I hope her other half would have been also." *His jaw worked then. "He was a member of my tactical team on the Arrenhe and was ah...liberated shortly after me." He explained softly. "As far as I and Mir worked out, when he...disappeared during service to the State, the Tal'Shiar.. uh..." He trialled off there and coughed. "Yeah....Sorry, getting side tracked." He fell silent for a moment then. "...I'd known Mir for most of my non-borg life on ships even before I knew Telim." Vara'l then continued, getting back on track. "She was an amazing friend, she and her other half Far'aya both were... knew how to make you laugh, always ready to make you smile and there when you needed someone to chat with, my ex-wife sometimes argues that both of them kept us sane during the time of the empire." He chuckled then as he sipped at his tea to conceal a pained noise. "She was a brilliant friend, a good mother and before she couldn't work anymore, was a palliative care nurse appreciated by many." His voice cracked again then as grief writhed to try and break trough his control. "..I and Telim lost her a bit before I transferred onto the station, which was...moderately recently."