Listening Skills
Listening Skills
Summary: Even the listener needs listening to.
Date: 3 ACH (16 November 2008)
Related Logs: None
Players:
Eve..Zaharis..

Psychiatry Office Genesis - Deck 13
3 ACH 3735 Souls


This room is decorated in a deep, rich green color. Some plants are in pots here, including one climbing Ivy on a small trellis which stretches up the side of a wooden bookcase set against one wall, filled with textbooks. There is a desk in front of a few file cabinets in the corner of the room farthest from the door, while opposite the bookshelves there is a comfortable looking leather reclining setee with a large leather chair next to it with an unobtrusive table nearby with a box of disposable tissues on it.


The door to Evelyn's office has been propped open, as is the norm for when she's without a client or needing a private moment to catch up on paperwork. She's seemed to have forgotten that fact, however, for her arms are folded atop her desk and her head is pillowed on them. For all intents and purposes, she might just be taking a little nap.

Zaharis is carrying two mugs as he steps into the office, having made sure Eve wasn't seeing a patient or anything first. Quirking his brows at her position, he just sets one down on her desk, the smell of tea wafting up. It doesn't make any sound, and once that's done he turns to start back out.

Eve sits up with a start when she senses someone there, rather than actually hears them. Red rimmed eyes blink a few times, as if trying to clear a heavy fog that clings to them. "Captain.." She finally says at length, her voice sounding a bit raw. A sheepish little smile tilts her lips as she tries to appear like she's back to one hundred percent operational. "Oh. Tea.. lovely. Thank you. You don't..I'm awake, I mean. No sense in running off, if you want to have a seat."

Zaharis smiles, a little. He reaches back to close her door before he sits down, lifting his mug for a sip of the hot liquid in his own. "Not here on official business. You can relax, Lieutenant. Thought your voice could use something to soothe it by now."

Eve gives a bit of a sigh, but its the sort that comes after an honest day's work. She leans back in her chair, dragging the mug with me. "My vocal chords thank you, Captain." Her smile is weary, likely another thing that has been abused the past few days. "How goes the crisis center over on PAS?"

"Still busy, but clearing up." Zaharis nods, setting his cup on his knee. The smell of cigarettes clings to him, probably smoked at light-speed out in the corridor on the way back to the Gen. "How are you doing?"

Eve ponders her answer as she leans over her tea mug, inhaling deeply of the aroma before she lifts her dark gaze to meet his again. "Hanging in there. Which is all any of us can do, I imagine. I'm told I have a very convincing game face." Which she apparently isn't using now. No, it very well looks like she could have been crying just before he came in. "I tell you, its times like these, I wish I still smoked."

Zaharis smiles a touch and sips his coffee, after blowing on the surface. That her eyes may be red, he doesn't call any attention to. "It is all anyone can do. I see a lot of game faces out there. Not like doctors can't recognise them in each other, but. I am proud of this department. Including you. Know that."

Eve raises a hand to rub the back of her neck. Too many hours, too little sleep. Its something they're all suffering from. "Thank you, Sir. That means a lot. Its what a good crew does, in the face of aversion. They pull together. And if they don't? Well. I guess its my job to convince them to, huh?" She smiles, then finally takes a drink of her tea, eyes closing as the warm liquid courses down her throat.

Zaharis half-smiles. "No, that's my job. Yours is to listen to them. And you have the harder task by far."

Eve gives a bit of a laugh, though its lacking a bit of her normal mirth, given the circumstances. "Mmm, but I also get to wield the power of suggestion. Fear me." But even as she says the words, her mind drifts off elsewhere for a moment, her gaze shifting to a potted plant but not really focusing on anything. "How long have you been aboard ships, Captain?"

Zaharis' eyes flicker upwards, briefly. "About six years, give or take a few months."

Her chair squeaks as she rocks it on its axis. "And when is the last time you touched down on soil?" For all intents and purposes, Eve could be starting off on one of her session talks, except for the fact that its Eve, this time, that seems to be seeking some sort of guidance.

Zaharis seems quite comfortable answering. One would never know they had just received word of the nuclear destruction of everything they've known, not from how calm he is. "Eight months ago. They gave me some leave when I was transferred from the Odyssey to the Genesis."

Eve lifts the cup of tea to her waiting lips again, but before she drinks, she murmurs. "Two weeks." Before takes another sip of the herbal concoction. When it lowers, its in slow motion, as if her arm has to slide through molasses to set the mug on her desk once more. "I touched off of Caprica two weeks ago…kissed my mother on the cheek. Gave my father a hug." Who listens to the listener? Looks like Zaharis drew the short straw.

Zaharis only smiles a little. He wraps his hands around the mug on his knee. "You close to them?" He avoids using a verb, something that would highlight so obviously that this subject is now in past tense.

Eve gives a vague sort of nod, though her eyes are pinching shut once again. There aren't any tears, no, its a nod to her training that she can control at least that. Though the words are slipping out of her mouth. "We had iced tea. On their back porch. The mosquitos were awful, but we just slapped them away and kept right on talking. It was the first time my father ever told me he was proud of me. It was always implied, before, sure. But after Pandora…" A swallow. "After Pandora, he felt it was necessary to tell me."

Zaharis nods once, quiet as she talks as she needs to. He smiles very slightly at her description of the mosquitos. "Good," he says, gently. "Was your father a doctor?"

Eve gives a curt shake of her head, her eyes reopening as she pulls herself out of the memory. "My father is what you call…was…" She corrects herself, with a clearing of her throat. "Old money. If he ever had a job, I never knew about it. But he insisted I be educated. Insisted." She sighs again, a common occurrence today. "And that, my friend, is what they call closure." She wipes a hand down her face, trying to break out of her moment of melancholy.

"If you feel it is, then it is." Zaharis replies quietly. "But even those who'd spoken to those they love recently feel cheated. They have a right to. So do you. You don't have to talk yourself into it."

Eve says the words slowly. "So. Much. Loss. Hearing story after story its hard not to become numb to it. Hard to offer the same hollow words of comfort over and over. Every break I get, I spend in the shower so no one can hear me cry. I think the fleet is going to run out of soap before I run out of tears."

"I think the fleet will forgive you," Zaharis replies, gently. "You're as human as the rest of us, and you have the same right to cry in the shower or…throw things, or…scream as anyone else does. Remember that. We're all here together."

Eve gives another sheepish smile, now that she's imparted her secret of coping to someone else. Its likely that the good doctor doesn't open up often, if at all possible. But special times call for special situations. "So which was it for you, Captain?"

Zaharis tilts his head, raising both brows slightly. "Hmm?"

Eve leans back in her chair bringing up a knee to brace it on the edge of her desk. "Did you throw something..or scream?" She asks lightly, leaving out the third and less manly option, though he's free to add that back in if need be.

"Ah." Zaharis hehs softly. "No, I, uh," He pauses, making a 'what can you do?' kind of motion with his hand. "I…work."

Eve reaches once more for the mug of tea Zaharis so kindly brought. "Guess there's that. We'll be a tightly run ship if everyone goes with that mentality. Are you getting any sleep?" She asks, either turning up the doctor, or shifting genuine concern to her superior officer.

"Body can't function without it." Zaharis finishes off his coffee, then sets the cup back down on his leg and looks at her. "Listen, Lieutenant. I wish I could tell you things are going to improve, but you know as well as I that they're going to get worse before they get better. Especially once those who are walking around in shock realise numbness doesn't last forever. I ask for duty to be done in this department, but I don't ask for martyrdom. If you need to lock this door for ten minutes to compose, you do it. If you need an extra shift off, you ask for it. Make sure you take care of yourself. Alright?"

Eve presses her lips together, making them into a severe line of grim reality. She gives a little nod that preceeds her words, "Yes, Captain." Afterall, she'll have to take that as an order, or likely she's just apt to work right past the point of exhaustion much like himself. "And of course if you…need anything too. My door is always open."

[Intercom] All hands. I need every available person who can work, to be working. If you are not on your scheduled shift, you'll need to report to areas for offloading. Until we are prepared, there will be little sleep for any of us, but you will be rotated out for sleep schedules and meals. This includes Civilians. Security needs to make sure they are also helping. The botanical is a wreck, but we can save the foodstores and other items. Clean it out, people. Regas out.

Zaharis glances up at the intercom, that pulling a dry smile onto his face. He looks back at her and stands. "Well, you heard the man. Let's get back to it. I'll see you later, El-Tee." He raises the empty mug towards her and turns to start out.

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