Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Janna Kingston (Counsellor) in Psychiatry Suite - Psych Eval - Wouldn’t You Want to Peer Into This?

Posted by Civilian Rollin (Lounge Host) in Psychiatry Suite - Psych Eval - Wouldn’t You Want to Peer Into This?
The corridor outside the psychiatry suite was unusually quiet—thick with that sort of anticipatory hush one usually reserved for confessions or curtain calls.

Rollin stood before the entrance to the suite of offices, each housing, he assumed, a stunning vision of a psychiatrist.

His robes today were less sweeping, but no less elegant—ivory with pale gold trim, and a sash that suggested both leisure and intention. His head was bowed slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear. The hush of his own thoughts, perhaps. Or the whispers of past mischief left unresolved.

He drew in a breath and let it bloom into something brighter.

“There we go,” he murmured to no one. “Composed. Disarming. Devastating.”

Then, with a practiced gesture as graceful as a toast or a blessing, he extended one long arm, hand out, ringed finger leading the way…

…and entered the reception area with a magnificent twirl, his robes, dancing and spinning about his ankles.

“At last, I’ve arrived, Darlings!” he exclaimed to the whole room or to no one. To Rollin, there was no difference.

“Point me to the lucky one who gets to peer inside this beautiful, bald head!”

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.

At the desk sat a blond ensign with the telltale mark on her forehead indicating she was Risian. She grinned at his entrance and chuckled a little. “Well, it depends on who you are and what you need exactly, I suppose, but I can take it you don’t have an appointment?”

~Cherry, Receptionist Extraordinaire

Rollin gasped, hands flying to his chest as if physically struck by joy.

“A Risian!” he declared, as if it were a rare orchid blooming in winter. “Oh, what a gift this day has become!”

He crossed to the desk in an elegant glide, all silk and smiles, then bent slightly at the waist in a courtly sort of bow—just enough to show respect without surrendering flair.

“Rollin,” he said, straightening. “Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, darling.”

His eyes sparkled, amused, appraising—not in a leering way, but as if he were admiring the artistry of her presence, the way one might pause to savor a sunset or a particularly well-balanced cocktail.

“If you’re the one seeing me,” he added, tilting his head thoughtfully, “then I am unspeakably grateful I don’t have an appointment.”

He leaned an elbow on the counter and gave her a wink that somehow contained neither expectation nor irony—just warmth.

“Well then, what happens next? A waiting room? A chaise lounge? Or do we skip ahead to childhood trauma and cocktails?”

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.