Rollin never ‘strolled’ anywhere. They pranced, skipped, twirled, glided, occasionally they flitted, but they never merely ‘strolled.’ Today, they glided down the corridors toward the sickbay. The doors parted and as if on a cloud, Rollin floated into the room. Their white chiffon robes gently floated down and settled at their feet. “Who has the honor of inspecting all of this?” They asked the room, their hands indicating their body. “Who’s the lucky doctor, today?” They asked, smiling naughtily, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

-Rollin, CoP