About that boot to the head

Posted on Sun Jun 24th, 2018 @ 5:23pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander T'Pral Jordan

Mission: Curing the Black Blood
Location: USS Hera, Deck 11, Security Office
Timeline: 2395

There was no denying that the lost navigator was avoiding confronting the security chief. Lieutenant Commander T'Pral Jordan was a bit intimidating when chasing one with a shadow sehlat, and Lieutenant Rita Paris suspected that the woman was quite likely formidable when not possessed by the black blood. Which was part of what gave her pause to go have a conversation with the chief of security of the Hera.

The kicks the Vulcan woman would likely forgive, but Jordan had long hair. All that chemical foam... Rita shuddered to think how much work it must have taken to get all that gunk out of her hair and off her skin. But sooner or later she had to face it, and better in her own time than running into one another in a corridor or the officer's mess. Thus what brought her to Deck 11, in front of the security office.

T'Pral looked up from going over security reports at her desk as the door chime sounded. "Enter," she called.

She saw the form of Rita Paris enter. "What may I do for you, lieutenant?" she asked, standing from her desk.

“Uh, hello Chief... we’ve kind of sorta met already, although I’m not sure if you remember it,” Paris began. Extending her hand, the gold minidress clad chrononaut closed the distance to the desk. “I’m Rita Paris, the new chief helmsman... wait, flight control officer, they don’t call us helmsman unless we’re manning the helm. Which seems silly if you think about it, but that’s progress for you, right? Hahaha.”

It was clear that the buxom blonde was nervous, and if it wasn’t, the rambling was definitely a sign. While she could lie with the best of them, Rita Paris quite obviously wore her emotions on the outside.

"I am aware of who you are and your position, Ms. Paris," T'Pral stated and paused for a moment before continuing. "There is no need to be nervous...I am no longer infected by the Black Blood."

Eyeing the unshaken hand, Paris dropped it back to her side. "Ah. So you're traditional Vulcan then? No hard feelings because no emotions?"

"Vulcans have emotions--they simply control them better than other species, myself included. I try to keep my emotions in check but that has not always been the case," T'Pral explained. She realized she was being more standoffish than normal but she was still dealing with her actions while she had been infected--she had killed an officer in her department. Letting out a sigh, she gestured to a nearby chair. "Have a seat if you wish," T'Pral offered.

"I'm very familiar with Vulcans, their emotions and how they deal with them," Paris declared. "I was bonded with a kolinahr for over three years, and we knew one another... very well. Look, I just wanted to offer an apology for my actions while you were possessed- if you are traditional, then I have nothing to apologize for because my actions were logical and offering you one is pointless." This was another case of Paris reaching out to a shipmate to whom apparently she was a nuisance, and she already regretted it. She hadn't taken the offered seat and was ready to conclude this particular encounter as soon as the security chief acquiesced. No sense dragging this out any longer than it needed to be. "So I think we're done here?"

T'Pral nodded. "Yes, I believe so. And your apology is not needed, I would have done the same had I been in your position."

"Eminently logical," Paris replied, turning and departing the security office.