Posted by Lieutenant Commander Alex Cross (Chief Counselor) in Reporting in: Counselor’s office

Posted by Lieutenant Hegush Falz (Chief Operations Officer) in Reporting in: Counselor’s office
Lieutenant Hegush stepped out of Sickbay, one check down, one more to go before he could find his room and clean himself up before he checked himself in to the Captain. As he walked he wondered what Captain Becket would be like. He had been told only good things, that the Captain was decisive, disciplined and loyal to Starfleet, that he had earned his title by being able to step up when others could not and act beyond what was expected of him. The description reminded him of someone else he had known.

But of course they were always going to talk the Captain up. Had to justify the position and all that, sell the ship to Hegush just as much as they would have sold Hegush to the Captain. He had to wonder what they possibly had to say about him. Not that it mattered, he knew not to mark what other’s say. He would see for himself what the Captains character was like but for now he had other duties to complete before he got to meet him. He gripped the strap on the his bag resting on his shoulder and made his way to level 11.

With Sickbay only being one floor away from the Counselors office it didn’t take him long to get to where he wanted to go. It helped that the Connie had been Mythology class too and aside from maybe some minor changes once he’d seen one he’d seen them all. It also helped that he had been a frequent visitor to sickbay.

Hegush slung his bag down onto the floor next to the seat, the checked himself in and sat to wait until somebody was ready to see him.

Lt. Hegush, COO

OOC: Since you have titled this post Counselor’s Office , I am going to assume that is what you meant despite you mentioning sickbay in the post.

OOC: Yes it was. Thank you for pointing that out. I’ve gone and made the adjustments now. No more middle of the night posing for me.

The soft chime at the counselor’s office door pulled Cross’ attention from the PADD in his hand. He let the sound settle for a brief moment—long enough to mark the shift from corridor to something more intentional.

“Come in.”

Flaz stood up from where he’d been seated quietly observing the movements of the people around him. Quietly he reached down and picked up his bag slinging it back over his shoulder again and moved forward towards the doors.

The doors parted with a smooth whisper.

Lieutenant Hegush Falz stepped inside—and the difference was immediate.

Cross’ office stood apart from the rest of the Ark Angel in a way that wasn’t loud, but unmistakable. The standard metallic tones of the ship gave way to warmer, earth-toned bulkheads accented by dark wood inlays. Shelving lined the walls behind the desk, holding a curated mix of real books—worn, handled—and a handful of personal pieces: a brass jazz cornet mounted in shadowbox glass, a carved wooden mask from Earth’s Gulf Coast, and a few off-world artifacts placed with quiet intention rather than display.

There was a subtle New Orleans influence woven through the space. Not decorative—lived. The lighting was low and amber, indirect strips casting a soft glow that felt more like evening light than shipboard illumination. A faint trace of chicory coffee and warm spice lingered in the air.

To the left side of the office, the space opened into a recessed conversation area—two steps down, intentionally set apart from the more formal desk space. A curved sectional anchored the area, deep and inviting, paired with two armchairs angled inward to form a natural circle. A low wooden table sat at the center, its surface matte and softly worn. A folded throw rested along the sectional’s edge, casual, unforced.

It was a space designed to lower walls without asking permission.

The first thing that stuck Hegush was how the space wasn’t sterile. He’d been in many Counselling Offices across his lifetime, seen his fair share. Sterile offices that felt like he was on display. Then there were the overdone offices, all fluffed up to appear comfortable but put him on edge instead. If it looked too nice it probably was. He’d even seen an office full of fluffy pillows that he was supposed to cuddle… or something.

This office though had a more personal feel to it, like the Counselor had put something of himself into the space. Made it more than just an office workspace but a place with soul. He could imagine it would be quite effective in allowing someone to let their guard down without realizing they had done so.

And then there was the Counselor himself. Hegush’s eyes drifted over as he took a step into the office.

Cross rose from behind his desk as Hegush entered.

Tall, composed, he carried himself with quiet control. His eyes took in the lieutenant in a single, measured pass—bag over shoulder, posture steady, gaze alert. No hesitation. No performative ease either.

He’s assessing everything, Cross noted internally. Not just the room… the ship.

Good.

“Lieutenant Hegush,” he said, voice low and even. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you Lieutenant Cross,” Hegush nodded his head in acknowledgement no sign of what he was thinking on his face, his eyes watching the Counselor, analyising his movements and his size.

He didn’t gesture to the chair in front of his desk.

Instead, he stepped away from it, angling naturally toward the left side of the office—the recessed seating area.

Hegush’s eyes followed.

“Bring your bag,” he added with a small motion of his hand. “No need to keep it staged for a quick exit.”

It was a simple line, but intentional.

Hegush’s hand tightened just a little bit around the strap of his back and subconsciously hitched it a little higher on his shoulder. “When you are young time never moves fast enough, but when you’re old it moves too fast to catch it,” An image of a young Bajoran male speaking firey words, soundless, lost to time, flicked briefly in Hegush’s mind. A young man who had tried to rush time as if he knew it wouldn’t last. Then as quickly as it appeared it was gone and Hegush focused on the man in front of him.

Focused on the time that was now.

Cross stepped down into the conversation area first, setting the tone without forcing it, and moved toward the sectional. He didn’t take a central or dominant position, instead leaving the space open—allowing Hegush to choose where he sat, whether the sectional or one of the armchairs.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing lightly. “Wherever works for you.”

Hegush followed Cross and slotted himself into the armchair closest to the door, swinging his bag down next to his side.

As the lieutenant settled, Cross crossed to the small replicator console set into the wall just above the steps.

“Can I get you something?” he asked, glancing back. “Coffee, tea… something stronger that insists it’s neither.”

A trace of dry humor—subtle, deliberate.

For most crew a simple question like that was just that, but for Hegush it was different. Was Cross teasing him or was the question simply what it was, innocent. It was probably the former he decided sticking to his philosophy to never assume. “An Irish coffee could be nice, or maybe I could upscale to a Sazerac?” He joked, picking that Cross would almost certainly pick up the second alcoholic beverage he mentioned was commonly associated with New Orleans. “Just a jest of course,” he added quickly so Cross wouldn’t mis interpret his humour.

He’d learnt through past mistakes how seriously some Counselors, generally the ones with the rainbows and puppy dogs rooms, would take such a comment too seriously. It was as if they couldn’t comprehend that he knew what his vices was and was comfortable enough to joke about them. He was already forming the impression that Cross was not that type.

It never hurt to be sure.

“Bajoran tea will be fine,” selecting a common Bajoran vice, not that it really was. Although, given how much his sisters used to drink he believed he had enough of a case to argue his reason.

At the response, Cross keyed it in, retrieved the drink, and returned, offering it before taking his own seat along the sectional. One arm rested along the back, posture open, relaxed without losing presence.

Grabbing the drink Hegush gave a nod of thanks and took a sip, letting its warmth slip through his body as he relaxed back into the armchair.

For a moment, he simply observed.

Not clinically. Not detached.

Grounded. Self-contained. Not here to be impressed.
He’ll decide what this ship is on his own terms.
Good. That kind of officer keeps a crew honest.

Cross felt a quiet approval settle beneath the surface—unspoken, but there.

“This isn’t a formal evaluation,” he said after a beat, voice calm. “You’ve already cleared those hurdles.”

His gaze remained steady, present without pressing.

“This is just a welcome… and a chance to make sure what you walked into matches what you were told.”

A brief pause—space left intentionally open.

“I’ve learnt long ago not to mark what others say.” Hegush replied, “No Admiral wants to admit they’ve backed the wrong horse, no Captain will say their crew are lazy or cowards, traumatized or otherwise when they’re trying to sell you a role, nor do I expect them too.” He took another sip, the tea wasn’t too bad, “The question isn’t if it matches,” he cocked his head slightly looking at Cross, “but how close it matches,”

Cross leaned back slightly, at ease but attentive.

“So,” he continued, tone even, conversational, “first impressions.”

His eyes met Hegush’s.

“Ship. Crew. Atmosphere.”

A faint shift at the corner of his expression—something thoughtful, quietly perceptive.

“Where does it land for you so far, Lieutenant?”

Counselor Alex Cross

Hegush had been anticipating the question coming. Still, he didn’t rush to answer it just left it there and reached forward and lowered the cup of tea placing it on the table. So far is not that far,” he said. He leaned back on his seat and met Cross’s eyes. “It is possible to interpret but not observe, but not to observe without interpreting.”

“I do not presume that I have observed enough yet to have a full idea of the ship yet. I will say my current perception is that if I were to compare it to a place I believe it would be a vineyard.” He thought to the young Vulcan cadet that was there for his physical and the NE’s that greeted the new arrivals to the ship, how fresh and young they were “It’s not wild like jungle or a meadow, it’s not rigidly controlled like a field or an orchard, it doesn’t judge like a mountain, and it doesn’t burn like a desert or freeze like a snowscape,”

“Of course,” He gave a good-natured grin, “I haven’t ruled out Volcano yet.”

He deliberately left out any mention of lakes and oceans, the borders of the two kinds of life.

“I saw in Sickbay how the Cadets were allowed to learn through experience and experience educates the soul. In the same way a good keeper of the vineyard knows that the difference between a good wine and a bad one is more than the grape itself but everything from first seed to the last knot in the barrel. The NE’s I’ve met were all hospitable, as I’d expected them to be, the ones who I observed were relaxed in what they were doing. Good sign for moral I presume, good for a higher stress situation remains to be seen. Nothing reveals more of an officer’s ability than an emergency. Not even they do,”

He quirked an eyebrow, “I’m not the one who has been here the longest, what sort of atmosphere and impression do you have of this vessel?”

Lt. Hegush Falz, COO