Nobody's Watching
Nobody's Watching
Summary: Zaharis runs across Melia in a very quiet observation deck.
Date: 115 ACH
Related Logs: Brief reference to Cigars and Scotch

Roosters Nest (Obs Deck) Genesis - Deck 9
115 ACH 23777 Souls

The observation deck is at the fore of the ship. The viewport allows those who come here to relax and enjoy a little quiet time with opposite sex. When the ship is under Alert levels, the viewport has a steel shutter that automatically comes down over the viewport for protection of the glass. The seats here are single and double and set up like a theater. They are cushioned and some recline back for those quick naps.

It's a quiet evening on the Obs. deck. A very quiet evening, actually. There aren't too many people who have the energy to do a whole lot, so people are just sacked out here and there. Mellie's found herself a corner and is curled up, in her seats, bent over a textbook and taking notes.

Zaharis counted on that whole mostly deserted thing. He isn't disappointed. There's no more coffee and no more tea, not even the table where they used to sit. And so, with not even a glance towards the empty side table, the CMO claims a couch with ease. His attention on the viewport and confident nobody's actually looking at him, he scratches a while at his left forearm where two ropes of scarring are hidden and itching away under his sleeve. Ah, the great pleasure in doing what you're not supposed to be.

Mellie's work seems to absorb her for a little while, but then her attention wanders. First, the pen stops moving. Then she's staring at the book for a time. The final nail in the coffin is when she looks up and starts looking around the room. When she spots Zaharis, she seems surprised, briefly. Rather than greeting him, though, she simply studies him in profile - and picks up on the scratching.

The things people do when they think nobody's watching. Zaharis moves the back and forth of his blunt fingernails up over his elbow and then the upper arm, and his fingers really do dig. A shift's worth of itching that he shouldn't be scratching. When he gets up to his shoulder his teeth grit in mild frustration and he finally exhales, rubbing his palm down the length of his arm.

A good doctor knows when to sit back and watch a patient take a step or two back. So does a good medic. Once he's done, she cocks her head slightly to the side and calls, quietly, "I can offer you a notebook or pen to help you get that last spot, Sir?"

"I wasn't doing anything." Zaharis sounds like a teenager whose mother just walked in on him looking at porn. He drops his hand and turns his head, only now seeing the source of the voice. "Oh, Ensign. Well, well."

Melia rolls to her feet - she's just wearing socks, not her boots, and pads over. The notebook is closed and offered out to him without comment. She simply raises a brow, bemused and, apparently, a little sympathetic. "Evening, Major," she says quietly.

Zaharis looks at the notebook before he takes it, resting it down on his knee. "What have you got here?"

Melia laughs softly. "A back scratcher," she tells him. "Otherwise known as my Organic Chem homework. The spine should just about hit that part you were trying to reach." There's a brief hesitation, then she offers, "If you'd like, I can fix you a cream that might help. I still have my stash of herbs, including the ones I'd need."

Zaharis smirks, tapping the notebook against his leg. "Thank you. I should at least try to be good in public though, I guess. Don't use up your herbs on me, Ensign. Seriously. Whacking me with a rolled up newspaper will work just as well."

"Ahh, but whacking you with a rolled up newspaper won't make the itch go away," she tells him with an impish grin. "Though that's something definitely to keep in mind for later. As for the herbs, well, they DO go bad, Major." Her smile turns a little sheepish at that. "I need to use them before that point, or they're wasted. I've set aside seeds for when we have gardens going again."

"Well…" Zaharis can't really argue with the fact that they'll spoil. "If you have the time. I'd appreciate it, thank you."

"I'll have it mixed up this week," she assures him, smile relaxed, comfortable. "You might smell a bit funny for a day or two, but it's just the herbs." Then the impishness sneaks back into her eyes. "I wouldn't recommend being around the Sister, though. Some of Aphrodite's herbs are in the mix. May I join you, Sir, or would you like to go back to scratching in peace?"

"I think the ship is plenty used to doctors smelling funny. We're behind only engineering on strange stenches." Zaharis offers her notebook back to her. "Have a seat."

She takes the notebook and curls herself up on the other end of the sofa, legs tucking beneath her. She doesn't take up much room. "Engineering's ahead of us on strange smells," she asks, quirking a brow. "That will never do. We can't have the snipes beating us. I'll see what I can do to fix that." She seems half-serious.

Zaharis smiles a little. "Thanks. Not so appreciated, but thanks anyway." He nods to her notebook. "How is organic chemistry coming?"

Melia smiles a little wryly. "Slowly. I know I should have waited for you to give me the syllabus, but I had the book and assumed that the first five chapters would be part of it, anyway. So I've started taking my notes. I'll hold off on the experiments until I get the official go-ahead when things have settled down. I still need to track the Captain down so I can tell him what that green goo he was carrying was." Her nose crinkles delicately. "Took me -weeks- of research."

"Nobody ever died from learning more than they needed to," Zaharis makes a 'hey whatcha gonna do?' motion with his hands. "I know every word you've read has just increased your appreciation ten times over for carbon compounds."

Her nose crinkles delicately, but she grins at that. "Oh, most definitely," she tells them. "I've started naming them, too. The left one is Moe. The right one, well, I tried Zoe, but it didn't work out so well. It's when the hydrogen molecules start mixing with the oxygen molecules that things get more fluid."

"Wait until you get to fullerenes," Zaharis says. "Otherwise known as 'buckyballs'." He uses his fingers to airquote that. "Loads of joy."

Melia blinks at him, owlishly. "That sounds vaguely…wrong," she says after a moment. "No, not vaguely, seriously wrong."

Zaharis actually grins, briefly. "Wish you could've seen what it felt like to be in a class of a hundred sophomore level students, hearing that for the first time."

She laughs softly and shakes her head. "How long did it take for the instructor to get control of the class and for everyone to stop laughing," Mellie asks, head cocking to the side.

"About three days." Zaharis shakes his head slowly. "And even then that was the running class joke for months. I suppose you know you've become a science nerd when your favourite 'dirty' joke is only a reference to carbon allotropes."

"I've got a little way to go, then," she says with a grin. "I'm still learning what dirty jokes -are-. Meris Hughes was helping me with that. Of course, I'll never look at sheep the same way again. Ever."

"I've never even seen a sheep in person in my life, so my mind can remain pretty clear," Zaharis says, thankfully.

Melia glances over at him, quirking a brow slightly, and grins. "She described it. In detail. Where she was from, the men were men and the sheep were scared. I can't look at -wool- the same way again. And we won't even get into goats." She shudders delicately. "After O-Chem, what will be my next subject?"

"Core classwork in clinical medicine and microbiology," Zaharis answers, without even having to think about it. "Then pathology and pharmacology. You'll have some room to pick some elective study, depending what specialisation you feel you're interested in."

She mulls that for a time, nodding. "Holistic medicine will have to wait," she muses. "After I'm certified, I think I'd like to do coursework in emergency surgery, but I want to get the basics down FIRST."

"All in time." Zaharis pulls an ankle up over his knee. "Holistic medicine isn't a specialty, per se. It's an approach rather than a method. By specialisation I mean things like pulmonology, cardiology, pediatrics, that sort of thing."

"Not so much pediatrics," Mellie, the natural born pediatrician, says with a shake of her head. "General medicine, certainly, to start. I'll do some research on the other specialties. And, honestly, I've got plenty of time to decide."

"Examples." Zaharis waves it off. "There's no rush at all, and sometimes it just comes after you've had some experience. I didn't know what I wanted to specialise in until I randomly got put on some immunology labwork and discovered I loved it."

Mellie nods slowly, relaxing into the sofa as she considers him. "Why medicine, Sir," she asks quietly. "What drew you to the coursework in the beginning?"

"Absolutely nothing altruistic," Zaharis says, wryly. "Good aptitude scores when I was a medic. The military offered to commission me and pay for school. I wasn't about to say no."

Melia laughs softly and dips her head. "That makes perfect sense," she replies. "I'd ask if you liked your work, but it's obvious that you do."

"I love it," Zaharis replies, in a very simple voice. "This isn't a job you can do if you hate it. It just isn't."

"It shows," she says simply. "It shows in the care you take with your patients and it shows in the way you deal with your staff. Honestly, I can't think of a single person on your staff who wouldn't do anything and everything for you." There's a pause and she cocks her head to the side slightly. "Of course, I had to blink about you making Lieutenant Tais genuflect. I almost asked if she had to kiss your ring."

"Lieutenant…Pomona?" Zaharis lofts a brow. "Cute. It was our CMO at the time who was into forcing random shows of adoration. One thing I didn't learn from him, thank gods."

Mellie laughs quietly. "Ahhhh. I was wondering what was going on there. She and I got to spend a little time talking this afternoon, and I couldn't imagine you asking a staff member to genuflect."

"She's pulling your leg," Zaharis smirks, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Either that or she's losing her memory, and she's too young for that."

She snuggles into the sofa, grinning impishly. "Mmmm," she replies, consideringly. "Means she might be open to practical jokes, then." Yes, she's plotting.

"I'll let you try that and get back to me." Zaharis says. He lets his leg down and glances at his watch. "Alright, Ensign, I need to be getting back. You take care of yourself."

"You too, Sir," she says with her usual bright smile. "Rest well and…try not to scratch tonight, please? Your infection chances are still high." As if she has to remind him. "See you in the morning, Major."

Zaharis makes a 'fffffft' sound with his mouth, even if he knows what she says is true. Rebuttoning his jacket flap, he heads out and back to the grind.

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