Posted by Civilian Rollin (Lounge Host) in Psychiatry Suite - Psych Eval - Wouldn’t You Want to Peer Into This?

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?
Posted by… suppressed (6) by the Post Ghost! 👻
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.”

Her pale brown eyes glittered with amusement. “Oh, of that I have no doubt. I’m Cherry. Just Cherry,” she said with a grin. Cross checking the ship’s manifest, she found their new lounge host and was fascinated. Civilians didn’t usually do a check-in (they were required to), unless they had specific issues they wanted to work on with someone. Some just wanted to get a feel for the services available in case they were needed one day. In Rollin’s case, anything was possible.

Rollin’s eyes sparkled as if she’d handed him a diamond wrapped in silk.

“Cherry,” he breathed, tasting the name like a decadent syllable. “A delicious name for a delicious—surprise.”

He grinned, one brow arching ever so slightly. “How perfectly fitting.”

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.

The ensign laughed. “Ahh, as much fun as that would be, sadly I am not qualified to assess you, but one of our amazing six professionals I’m sure would love to sit down with you. I’ll see who is available.” In fact, Cherry knew their schedules so well and who was with a patient, so it was more of a matter of making sure there was enough of a block available to slip Rollin into their schedules.

She flashed him a grin. “Dr. Kingston is available. I’ll let her know we have a drop in,” Cheery said, rising, giving him a wink and moving over to the red door in the middle of the arc of doors. She was amused to see how Janna handle such a personality as his, but equally, she thought Janna could still surprise him just as equally.

A quick knock on the red door in the middle, and Cherry poked her head in, speaking in a soft voice. She returned a moment later and gestured towards the door. “She said for you to go right on in,” Cherry said.

Through the red door, Janna’s office was a modest space rather fitting the petite woman. She didn’t go to great lengths to decorate, but it was definitely more than the standard grey furniture and carpet. On the wall above the couch was an image of a forest scene that could be almost anywhere and the standard grey slim arm chairs had been replaced with softer larger armchairs in a dark blue that looked inviting to curl up into. On top of the standard carpet, the sitting area was covered in a plush rug in different shades of blue. On the other side of the room where she mostly worked, there was a tall leafy plant near her desk and a single silver photo frame on the corner of the desk where she could easily see it when she worked at the computer terminal. Overall, the place was warm but practical and uncluttered- much like Janna.

The petite psychologist was sitting in one of the arm chairs and set down a PADD. She rose to her feet and smiled, her grass green eyes vivid as she took him in. “Hello, I’m Janna Kingston. So, to what do I owe this unexpected honour? Are you here for business or pleasure,” Janna said lightly as she tucked an errant chin length blond curl behind her ear.

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin stepped through the red door as if entering a theatre mid-performance—quietly, but with presence. His gaze swept the room, and a delighted little hum escaped him.

“Oh, how charming.”

He took in the inviting chairs, the blues and greens, the carefully chosen details that softened the standard Starfleet sterility. His eyes lingered a moment on the forest image—nostalgic, maybe, or simply appreciative.

Then she stood.

And Rollin lit up.

“Janna Kingston.” He said it like a lyric—curious, pleased, already cataloging her posture, her poise, the way her hair curled and her eyes didn’t flinch.

“Business or pleasure?” he echoed, stepping forward with a glint in his eye. “Darling, I was hoping for both—but I’ll settle for a comfortable chair and an open mind.”

“Well, those I most definitely have,” she said matter-of -factly, even as her eyes held amusement.

He extended a hand—not stiffly, not formally, but like someone offering an invitation to dance.

“Rollin,” he said. “Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, don’t you think?”

She grinned. “Somehow I think so.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though weighing the moment.

“I like to know the hearts of the ships I serve on, and yours, my dear, appears to be one of them.”

Then, with a faint smile:

“So tell me—how do you usually begin? With questions, or confessions?”

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

Oh, he was good. And yet she could sense it wasn’t just an affect, a persons he wove. He was just this way and it delighted Janna.

She gestured to the sitting areas for him to go on and take a chair. “Where we begin depends on many things, the first being out desired or required outcome. If this were a standard boarding eval, I have questions I might ask, but it depends on the person’s history. Unlike some therapists, I do believe having the patient’s history matters. It matters that I have an understanding of limitation, expectations, and the requirements of the time I spend with that person. But if we’re talking an ongoing, or as is sometimes the case, an urgent session, then it is about that moment, about what is happening for that person.”

Kingston moved over to her replicator and looked over her shoulder. “In a more social context as this, I start by food and a beverage. May I get you something?”

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin settled into the offered chair as if it had been waiting for him his whole life—one ankle crossed gently over the opposite knee, his posture elegant without being performative.

He listened closely, his expression softening as she spoke—not just smiling, but hearing her. The theatrical sparkle in his eyes didn’t dim, but it took on a quieter quality, as though he’d stepped from spotlight to candlelight.

“Oh, Janna…” he murmured. “You make a compelling case for time well spent.”

A beat.

“I do hope this won’t be a one-act engagement.”

She snorted. “Alas, you are probably one of the few who enjoy visits to my office. My profession tends to have a repulsing effect at times, sadly.” Janna smirked. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Rollin’s smile widened, slow and certain—like a secret revealed.

“Indeed they do not,” he said, with the reverence of someone complimenting fine art.
“But their loss is my indulgence.”

He tilted his head, eyes glinting.

“And I am very good at indulging.”

He glanced toward the replicator, then back to her with a playful raise of the brow.

“And as for food and drink—darling, that is my department.” He tapped his temple lightly. “I know things about cocktails that aren’t technically legal in three sectors.”

He rose just slightly from his seat in a mock half-bow, hand to heart.

“But I’ll graciously accept a beverage here, if only to earn your presence in The Temple, someday soon.”

And then, with that same gentle warmth:

“Something tells me this isn’t the last time we sit across from each other.”

He didn’t mean it as a warning.
He meant it as a wish.

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

A playful smile traipsed across her lips. “Well, I hope not. Because not only do I visit our lounge quite regularly, but I see our jobs as rather complimentary. We both keep a finger on the pulse of the ship, the morale of its crew.”

For a moment something shifted as she gazed at him, as if she might be reading him, rather than the other way around. And it was more than just training and observational skills. Something about her energy and mental focus changed. One might even call it an empathic moemnt, but Jannwas just Human, right? It flared for a brief moment and then faded.

“Do tell me if you have any allergies.” Tapping in an order at the replicator, she smirked again. “I would hate to cause you to go to Sickbay unplanned on your first day.”

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin’s eyes sparkled at her words—complimentary, indeed. He looked positively delighted, as if she’d just invited him to duet at sunset.

“Ah, two stewards of spirit and psyche,” he purred, reclining ever so slightly. “How poetic. Let’s solemnly vow to conspire in grace and mischief—to keep the hearts of this ship tended, tuned, and ever-beating.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said.

But then—that shift. Subtle. Electric. Her focus tilted inward for a heartbeat too long, and Rollin’s head tilted with it, not startled… just curious.

His smile didn’t falter, but something behind his gaze sharpened—recognition without naming it.

“I do hope you’re not peeking,” he murmured, teasing but thoughtful. “That’s terribly unfair. I haven’t even started undressing my metaphors.”

At the mention of allergies, he let out a low, musical laugh.

“None worth mentioning. Unless you count mediocrity… or beige.”

He crossed one leg over the other again and raised his brows with mock seriousness.

“But do take care. If this drink is even half as good as your company, I may fake a reason to stay.”

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

Janna flushed at the gently rebuke of her mental prodding. It hadn’t been intentional other than she was had mentally told herself that she was curious what sort of beverage might be actually interesting to such an exuberant person. Most of the time the people stepping into her office had no idea the levels Janna’s mind was operating on these days, the way everything had bene changing and she was just doing her best to accept and adapt. But psi-positive person most definitely were the exception. She turned back to the replicator, unsure if to address the moment or simply carry on as if nothing happened. It was a sudden and strange moment of indecision and faltering of confidence.

She tapped a couple more keys. “Well, I won’t try too hard to impress you then. I do have other appointments and a plethora of reports to attend to today.”

The replicator hummed and in that beautiful shimmer of light appeared two mugs. Kingston carried them over with care and set them gently on the table. A very particular sweet smell of almond wafted from the foamy milky drink. She took up the other armchair and leaned forward to pick up the mug. “Almond steamed milk. Not too sweet, flavourful, and cozy. Perfect for a lovely little chat, I think.” She sipped from hers, letting the warmth and very specific taste of the almond syrup to absorb her full attention for a moment or two.

~Janna Kingston, CNS