Fresh Eyes

It was very, very late the day after T'Pren's last visit to the infirmary when she finally stopped back in to see if Zima was around, this time with her uniform on but the top of it open to reveal the regulation tank underneath. Her hair was twisted up and out of the way, but she was pulling it down and shaking it out as she entered.

The reinforced silicone doctor had just dismissed an ensign who'd walked into a pair of automatic doors which were faulty.
"Do not expect technology to blindly obey you, Ensign, it too was made by imperfect man," he advised.
"Ah, Lieutenant," he greeted Pren. "How are you feeling?"

"Perfectly fine," T'Pren assured the new doctor, running her hands through her hair a few times to make sure it wasn't just staying in its previous messy bun position. "How are you adjusting so far?"

"I have not yet become sufficiently accustomed to the people I have met to care about them or miss them when they are gone," Zíma answered matter-of-factly.

T'Pren couldn't quite help but laugh at the doctor's blunt response and she nodded her appreciation. "That's understandable. You've only just arrived. It takes time." She crossed her arms under her chest and turned a slow circle to check out the state of the infirmary before asking, "Are you very busy?"

"No, I am not," Zíma responded, approaching her and looking her over instantly. "Do you require assistance?"

"I don't require assistance," T'Pren assured the synthetic being with a smile. "But I would like it, if you have the time and the inclination. I have two requests, actually."

Zíma put his fist against his waist.
"Lieutenant, I am not currently available for sexual interaction." It was completely impossible to tell whether this was one of his jokes. But it definitely could be.

"What?" the lieutenant spluttered in shock, eyes going wide. Her cheeks burned a jungle green. "Why does everyone think I'm after sexual interaction?! Am I accidentally bathing in pheromones or something?!"

"I would not be able to sense pheromones, though I know where they are produced," Zíma said coolly. "What are your requests?"

"What?" T'Pren repeated, baffled this time as to what requests Zima meant. And then it dawned on her and her green cheeks got darker. "Oh. I--" Great. No, this was going to go over really well. "The first thing was...is. The Phylosian, Da-an, is...bringing me a genetic sample. I wanted to make sure you didn't mind if I came in to use some of your equipment?"

Zíma glanced around at the infirmary. "I don't see why not. Barring a medical emergency."

"Oh, of course," the lieutenant agreed, nodding a little more enthusiastically than was necessary. And then she couldn't stand it anymore. "Did you really think I came in here for sexual interaction?"

"It would not be out of the realm of possibility. You did say you did not require it, but would like it, if I had the time and inclination." Zíma reasoned. "And you were self-consciously teasing your hair."

"I was..." T'Pren echoed, trying to figure out what he meant about her hair. She touched it to see if it gave her any clues and then...then it clicked. "Oh! Oh, no, no, no, I just...I had it up and out of the way when I was working on the Hippolyta, but I don't like to..." Oh, this was going to need explaining, wasn't it. T'Pren trailed off awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. "I don't like to show my ears, usually. In public."

She cleared her throat and tugged at her hair uncomfortably. "Anyway, the...the second request. Was. Is." Did she already clear her throat? She cleared it again for good measure. "Well, you seemed...dubious. Of Regan's-- of Doctor Ozan's dealings with my...well, with me. As a patient. I-- did you think you could do better? Or at least come at it from a new perspective?" It was an earnest question, if the robot could pick up on such things.

Zíma stared into a middle distance for a moment before answering. "No. I do not consider myself more capable than Doctor Ozan. My specialties are injury and infection. And she has significantly more hands-on experience with your case. Unfortunately, she also has extensive personal interest which may sometimes effect her judgement."

"And you don't," T'Pren agreed, like she was walking a fussy child toward a conclusion that would benefit them both. But, you know. Less condescending. "So what I would like to propose is...taking what you know from my file and getting whatever other information you might need...that maybe we see if there's a more longterm solution to my neurological damage. So that I don't ever have to get a hypospray refill ever again. If that's possible."

"You could always replace your brain with an artificial one," Zíma said. "That was a joke. But it would certainly remove the problem."

T'Pren's face fell dramatically at Zima's suggestion, at least until he explained himself. But she didn't laugh until she decided she agreed. "It would remove a lot of problems. But it would also remove most of what makes me...me. And I think I would prefer to avoid that."

The lieutenant lifted her brows. "Would you be willing or interested?"

"I will certainly look into it and do what I can. But I may have to work in tandem with Ozan, and that is up to her to permit," Zíma said. "I will certainly have the time."

T'Pren nodded thoughtfully at that, and for a moment looked like she might say something in protest. But in the end, she gave Zima a smile in thanks. "You'll let me know if you need anything from me? Tests or samples or...whatever it might be. I'm used to it, so whatever you think you might need."

Zíma nodded. "I'll give your record a thorough analyzing and let you know."

"Okay." T'Pren nodded with finality and then tried to find a way to exit without being too awkward. "Okay." So far not so good.

She smiled at Zima. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. And hopefully I'll have my sample from Da-an and I'll see you in the next few days. I promise I won't be in your way."

"I can't wait," Zíma smiled without sincerity.