Emerging from the Captain’s ready room with rekindled invigoration, Namid resolved to submit to the rest of their check-ins. Slipping into the turbolift, they mulled over their options. Medical. Counselling. Chief Science Officer. Tempted as they were to beeline from one superior to the next, Namid found restraint in the fact sickbay was closer to the bridge than Lt. Naim’s office. A crying shame, but Argimeau had no quarrel with doctors that were worthy of delay.

Namid had spent a good chunk of their childhood confined to a waiting room. Concussions, fractures, lacerations worthy of a precautionary tetanus booster… Namid had wandered into the neighbourhood clinic for just about every reason under the sun. It’d become a hangout spot for them. So it was strange meandering into sickbay without a gaping wound or contusion the size of their forehead. They were just here for a checkup, and that was far more terrifying than any injury.

Passing through Sickbay’s doors, their PaDD shoved under the crook of their arm, Namid’s gaze wandered in search of someone to bother.

– Namid Argimeau, Scientific Intelligence