Max was wired following his shift in sickbay. He should be tired. He should be exhausted. Instead, he had a burst of energy that needed to either be exercised out or channeled into a creative pursuit. He chose the latter, setting up his easel, for the first time since his arrival at Magellan, in Observation Deck 3. His movements in setting up were swift, somewhat rushed. He knew that this burst of energy would fade and the tedium of a proper setup might be the thing to kill the project entirely.

During the day, as a doctor, it was about order and process. As a painter, however, Max was willing to take liberties with those processes. It was as close to chaos as he really allowed himself.

Max noted that retreating to a seldom used observation deck was, perhaps, not as wise as trying to meet new people and maybe even make some friends. That, however, he wanted no part in manufacturing. He would hopefully meet people when it wasn’t to treat their burns or broken bones. For now he was content to go about his ordinary hobbies that he might settle down into the ordinary a bit faster.

He prepared his palette somewhat haphazardly. No matter. He didn’t intend to paint a masterpiece this day. He just wanted to paint.

Dr. Woolley, Medical