OOC: You do not have to have Ens. Woolley be in this thread, but it is an opportunity for him to be able to help with something; while you’re waiting for a response on your Sickbay threat. :)
Trin
IC:

One would be a fool to be hardly aware of the newly arrived Captain on their ship. Obiah was not a member of that population. The prior days they had found themself busied by the mountain of paperwork they had often been attempting to avoid. Having spent majority of their time shifting between assisting cadets in whatever procedures they needed a little help on, and going through the dangerous pathways of this growing fortress of work, they had discovered little to no windows to make any use of other duties.

After all, what time was there, when you filled your schedule almost completely with two alternating topics?

Situated behind the imprisoning material of their assigned desk, the last of the files brought up upon their PaDD, they graced their fingers along the slick screen, in all efforts to conclude their days of hell. Biting the inside of their lip, in spite of being well aware they could easily tear open the delicate skin, they studied the contents of the task before them. Their body was slightly worn from typing at a PaDD, their back beginning to pester them with the aches and pains of sitting in one spot or standing in a simple position, for longer than happened to be necessary.

It was a vexing cycle they had grown accustomed to over their time as a member of Starfleet. However, that made it no less an annoyance to their body and their psyche.

Setting down the PaDD, their fingers briefly aching in relief to their choice to cease such actions, they leaned back into the chair. Brushing their spine against the support material behind them, they found a sense of comfort. For a moment, they remained in this lazy position, before forcing themself to turn to their monitor and discover what other work needed to be done. There was no rest for the wicked, and in the collective mindset of the population housed upon this ship, a Doctor was no less wicked than a witch, as amusing to Obiah as that happened to be.

Skimming over the officers in need of physical exams, most of them simply overdue for their annual, or in need of a check-in appointment after a recent injury, one stood out to them. Narrowing their eyes, they leaned forwards, picking up the sight of the name (and also realizing they needed another retinax treatment), quirking an eyebrow.

How common it was, what they had come across. The avoidance of a boarding physical. Were they truly that bad? They had never minded them, whenever they were asked to have on completed for whatever purposes. Then again, they were a doctor, and such things were quite common for them to understand. Thus, it was not as if they had much room to speak for others.

Shaking their head, in something that could have easily been described as amusement or even a tad of annoyance, they pressed their hand to the badge upon their chest. =^=Lt. Torrirs to CO. First off, welcome to the ship— second, my files say you are in need of physical, Captain.=^=

Lt. Torrirs
CMO