PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION - MITCHELL
 

 :: The just-completed USS Chronos sits in drydock at a Federation facility for several days as the crew for her maiden voyage slowly arrives from their prior billets at various far-flung points all across the vast expanse of the starlit night sky. ::

 :: Lieutenant Junior Grade John 'Shakespeare' Mitchell, one of two mission specialists newly assigned to the Chronos, sits at a computer console in his temporary quarters at the drydock facility, poring over records on a certain Starfleet Officer named Sito Jaxa.  The two-toned door chimes sound to announce someone outside. ::

 [Mitchell]  "Come."

 :: The hatchway slides aside and in strides a tall, imposing man with the collar pips of a full Commander and a red inner collar beneath his generic grey-and-black uniform.  His weathered face is grim and lacks smile lines, and his jet-black hair is lightly streaked with grey.  He looks over Mitchell sternly as Mitchell rises from his seat. ::

 [Deling]  "Lieutenant Mitchell, I'm Commander Deling; I'll be First Officer on the Chronos.  I trust your research is going well.  I just wanted to stop by and impress upon you the vital need for utter secrecy in this matter.  Until the Chronos leaves drydock, you are not to discuss your work with ANYONE other than Mr. North -- not even other members of the Chronos crew!”

 ::Having concluded the 'business' part of his visit, Deling relaxes a couple of millimetres... which in his case is like going from executioner to drill sergeant.::

 [Deling]  "I understand that you're quite a pilot!  Mr. Anastoff and I could've used you for the 'Flying Tigers' fighter squadron he and I put together and ran on our last ship.  I'm headed down right now to try out the Officers' Mess on this place; you could join me and tell me all your fighter-jock stories..."

 [Lt.JG Mitchell] :: turns slightly away from the Commander, and taps a few controls on his console, locking up the information he has been studying, and turns back to the Commander. ::

 "I'd love to get out of these quarters for awhile, Commander," Mitchell said, "Lead the way."

 :: As the two officers walked out into the hallway, Mitchell's comm badge toned at him. ::

 :: He looked at the Commander, and tapped his comm badge ::

 "Mitchell here, Go Ahead."

 [Talt] %Communicator% "Hello, Lt. Mitchell.  This is Lt. Talt.  I've been assigned as the ship's counselor for the Chronos.  An-nd, I was wondering if I could schedule an appointment with you . . . at your convenience, of course."

 *Talt' voice is a smooth alto with no detectable accent. She also sounds a bit distracted.*

 [Lt.JG Mitchell]  :: Mitchell raised a suprised eyebrow. ::  ~ Psych evaluation ~ he thought ~This could be interesting.~  :: A mischeivious smile crept onto his face. ::

 "Doctor," he replied, "I was about to head to the officers' mess with Commander Deling, so I see no reason I can't stop by and see you first."

[Talt] %Communicator%"Oh, if you're with Commander Deling, don't let me interrupt anything important.  If you could just squeeze me into your schedule sometime in the future, I'd appreciate it."

::Deling stands close enough to Mitchell that his voice will go over Mitchell's badge and will be heard by Talt.::

[Deling] "Not important at all, Lieutenant; Mr. Mitchell and I were just about to grab some dinner.  You're welcome to join us, or if you need Mr. Mitchell now, you're welcome to him.  I have a PADD full of files with me and my original plan was to have dinner with them anyway, so I'll sign off on any plan the two of you for late."

::Deling makes a quick, empty smile as he awaits a response.::

[Talt]%Communicator%"That's very considerate of you, Commander.  If you and Mr. Mitchell don't mind, it would be rather nice to see him now.  It won't take long.  I'll be sure to send him on down to the Officer's Lounge right afterward."

::Once again, Deling stands close enough to Mitchell that his voice will go over Mitchell's badge and will be heard by Talt.::

[Deling]%COM%"Fine with me, Lieutenant.  Whenever you're through putting him through the wringer, I'm sure the boy could use a meal."

::Deling addresses Mitchell.::

[Deling]"So, Mr. Mitchell, it looks like you get to go see the Lady Headshrinker.  Don't get so emotionally worked up that you lose your appetite!"

[Mitchell]:: Gives Deling a 'Gee Thanks' look. ::

%Comm% "Alright, Doc," Mitchell says, "I'll be right there.  Mitchell Out."  John looked at the Commander. "You obviously have no idea about the age old tradition of putting off medical Check-ups and Psych Evals as long as possible, do you Commander?"

::Deling stares at Mitchell humourlessly, the wisp of a smile tugging at his mouth.::

[Deling]  "Why of course I do, Lieutenant; I'm a skilled practitioner of the art myself.  On the other hand, I'm not about to get MYSELF in hot water with the lovely doctor by helping someone ELSE to put off HIS psych eval!"

[Mitchell] Mitchell shook his head, and in all good humour smiled at the Commander.  "I'll catch up to you in the mess hall."

:: With that, Mitchell walked off. ::

::Grinning wickedly, Deling strides off down the corridor towards the Officers' Club.::

:: A very short time later, Mitchell arrived at the Counselor's Office and chimed, before walking right in, and plopping onto the first couch he sees, and lying down.  Before the Doc had a chance to speak, Mitchell had sized her up, and started in ...::

[Mitchell]"It's all my parent's fault, Doc," he started, looking to her with eyes that crept over every inch of her uniformed form.

::  Talt will meet his gaze and return the favor by allowing her eyes to trail the length of Mitchell’s body as he lays on the couch.  There will be nothing remote or clinical about gaze.  In fact, it will be almost sultry.  Mirifice will lean back against the wall next to the replicator where she was standing when Lt. Mitchell entered the room.  Then she will speak in a languid southern drawl to which her alto voice is perfectly suited. ::

[Talt] “Why, Lieutenahnt, I do believe that you’ve torn mah dress.”

::  Mirifice will glance pointedly at Lt. Mitchell’s feet.  The couch on which Lt. Mitchell so precipitously jumped is covered in various brightly colored fabrics and clothes.  His feet are resting on a gold lamee dress patterned with large roses.  ::

:: A quick survey of Mirifice’s office paints quite a picture.  There are a number of various sized packing crates stacked up in the corner of the office.  Some of them are half-open and spilling out a wide variety of items.  Datapads, antiques, holo-cubes and a large number of brightly colored fabric somethings drape over the crates.::

:: Lt. Talt's desk is likewise cluttered and jumbled with things teetering dangerously near the desk edge.  Among the datapads and scarfs on her desk, Lieutenant Mitchell can spot a Klingon D'K Tahg, a small metal flute, a stuffed doll, a miniture of an Excalibur class starship, two silver enameled plates, a copper and silver necklace with a large tear-dropped shaped pendant, a small fern in clay pot, three small books, and a small statue of a wooden horse.  There are a number of other items too obscured by the general clutter to make out. ::

:: Mitchell slowly took in the gravity of his faux pas, and quickly stood up. ::  "Aww geez, Lieutenant," :: he said, looking back and forth from the dress to her, :: "I am terribly sorry. I really wasn'y kidding though about it all being my parents fault."

:: He smiled a hopeful and sincere smile, knowing that it sounded evasive. ::

[Mitchell] "Look Doc," he continued,"When I think about this evaluation, I think two things. First, you’re a Betazed, so what's the point of trying to hide anything right?  And Second, I've spent time under A rather inventive Cardassian Gul having my soul stripped bare, so what harm can there be in bearing it to a crewmate who very likely is going to be there to save my life one day."

:: Mitchell paused, and turned around to the couch, and cleared himself a space to sit down, and as he took his seat, he smiled, and said, "I'm sure I can find some way to make it up to you," while placing the dress gently to the side.

:: Talt looses the sultry look and looks at Mitchell with sympathy in her eyes.  She crosses the office and sits next to Mitchell on the couch, close by but not touching him.  She also sits directly on the dress. ::

[Talt] * there is be no trace of the affected Southern accent. *  “Don’t worry about the dress, Lieutenant.  As you can see,”  :: Talt will smile and make an airy wave to the cluttered and colorful room. :: “I’ve got plenty of them.  I just wanted to slow you down a little.  I’m sorry if my attempt at humor has misfired.  And while I can’t change what’s happenend to you, Lieutenant, I can at least offer my help.  And . . .”

:: Lieutenant Talt will stand up with a little twinkle in her eye.  She will cross the office to her immensely jumbled desk and begin to root around among the clutter. ::

[Talt] “Where are they?  Where are they?”

:: Lieutenant Talt mutters to herself as she searches through the clutter.  Her actions disturb the jumble and several items drop off her desk onto the grey carpeted floor.  Mirifice glances briefly at the fallen junk, shrugs, and continues with her search.  After a few seconds, she finds what she’s looking for and turns back to Lieutenant Mitchell.  Proudly displayed in her hands is a medium blue sized plate holding 6 large cookies. ::

[Talt] “Would you like a cookie, Lieutenant?  I replicated them from my own recipe.  They’re not the cure for all ills, but they’re not too darn bad, if I say so myself.”

:: Lieutenant Talt smiles at Mitchell cheerfully. ::

[Mitchell]  :: John Mitchell smiled widely at the adorable young betzoid woman in front of him. ::  "Gosh, Doc," he said, "I was just trying to throw you off a bit.  Personally, I hate Psych Evals, because I always get told the same thing.  'It's all my parents fault'."

:: John took a cookie, and took a bite. ::

"Thanks for the cookie, though."

:: He paused, and finished the cookie, before looking at the Counselor again. ::
 
"So, can we get this over with? How does your couch work? You want me to just lay down and babble at yah, or did you have specific questions in mind?"

:: The Lieutenant was projecting a man without fear attitude, and Miriface could tell that he was something of a risk taker, with unresolved issues he didn't like to talk about. ::

[Talt] :: smiles at Lt. Mitchell:: "Well, my couch works like most other people's - four legs hold it up off of the ground.  And you are certainly welcome to babble, if it will make you feel better."
 
:: Talt stands up from where she is sitting beside Mitchell and walk back over toward her desk.  When she turns around to face the Lieutenant again - her eyes will be fairly serious. ::

[Mitchell] ~~Uh Oh,~~ Mitchell thought, as he studied the Doc. "Honestly, I can't say that babbling ever makes me feel better, so why not ask your questions Doc, so I can find my way back to duty."
 
::It is obvious he is uncomfortable, now that he doesn't have her off balance.::

[Talt] "How would you like the session to go, Lieutenant?"

[Mitchell] "Honestly, Doc, I'd prefer it to be over, but I doubt that's gonna happen.  I'd rather not have a lady as pretty as you looking at me with a critical Doctor's eye."

::Talt's expression is somewhat serious but her eyes are sparkling. ::

:: Mitchell definitely is still measuring the Doctor, and trying to see what gets to her, so he can try and fumble his way back to an even keel, and not feel like he's in her office, and she's evaluating him ::

[Talt] "You're a pilot, right, Lt. Mitchell?  When you listen to an engine, hear the sound of the ship's thrusters, what expression is on your face?  Are you judging the engine?  Or just HEARING it?

:: John sat up, and stared at the Doctor .... she actually had the beginnings of a clue about things.  That suprised him. :: ~~She actually gets it, kind of ~~ Mitchell thought.

[Talt] :: Talt smiles at Lt. Mitchell.::  "And I'm afraid that you're laboring under a bit of a misconception, Lieutenant."

[Mitchell] "It's more than that, doc" he said, "When you're flying a ship.... There's no way to describe the feeling."  He paused.  "It's like the ship is an extension of you."

:: He ignored her comment, and kept talking. This was a subject he felt deeply about, he was bordering on obsessive. ::

[Mitchell] "You don't hear the engines , so much as ... you feel them.  If something goes wrong with he ship, you know it. It hits you in your gut."

[Talt] * very interested, not clinical *  "Alright, now.  Do all the ships' engines you have ever felt, feel the same?  Isn't there little differences that make each engine run uniquely?  And are ALL of those differences BAD or WRONG?  Or are they just the way that ship flies?"

[Mitchell] "... And what misconception am I laboring under, Doc," he suddenly snapped his attention back to her , and the comment.

"Every ship flies differently," he said, "Forgive me for being so blunt about this, but finding the right touch for each ship you touch, is kinda like.... Finding the right way to make love to a woman, Doc. The differences aren't neccesarily good or bad they're just .. well differences. " He smiled broadly. "And I appreciate diversity."

[Talt] :: Talt looks startled and gets back on line.::   "Exactly, why should sentient minds be less than a ship or a woman, Lieutenant?  Not good, not bad, just different.  And the misconception is that I asked for a meeting.  I'm a little underprepared to do the actual Psych Evaluations at this time."
 
:: Talt gives an airy wave to the disordered room around her.::

[Mitchell] * He had her backpeddling away from the clinical demeanor again... Good *

[Talt] "Chief Anastoff is working on some Holoprograms that will aid in those."

[Mitchell] "Well then," he said, "I don't understand exactly why I'm here, doc."
 
[Talt] "Because I wanted to MEET you.  And I couldn't get away from my office.  I'm sorry if I lead you to some conclusions.  Really.  You came in with so much on your mind, I'm afraid I just didn't know what else to do but talk about what you wanted to talk about."

[Mitchell]"You shoulda just told me that this wasn't my Psych Eval, Doc."  :: He smiled at her ::  "Because I assure you I wouldn't have tried to avoid it then,"  he smiled, and glanced her up and down. "I guess this means I can go join the Chronos men's club for dinner then , huh?"

[Talt] * laughing quietly * "Certainly, and maybe sometime after you are done with the men.  We could talk again about ships and minds and women."

:: Talt blushes furiously, her eyes get comically large and she presses a hand against one cheek.

[Mitchell] :: Mitchell stood up, and grabbed the dress he ripped.  ::   "You mind if I take this with me, Doc.   I have to admit ... I am one helluva seamstress, and fixing ths is the least I can do."

:: He smiled at her, as he moved to the door. ::

[Talt] "Oh, Lt. I did not mean that to sound that way at all.  I guess even Counselors are subject to Freudian slips.  And by all means, if you want to repair the dress, please do.  I'm afraid I'd just have to replicate it whole.  I'm just all thumbs when  it comes to needlework."

:: Talt smiles and escorts Mitchell to the door. ::

[Mitchell] "Of course, you didn't mean it that way, Counsellor," he said, as the door hissed open.  He smiled at her and stepped out of the room. A quick look back, and the doors hissed shut.

:: The Lieutenant went right to his temporary quarters,and put the dress down.  ~~ Helluva way to show up to dinner with the guys, carrying a dress.~~ He smiled, and wondered what the future would bring, and leaving the dress on his bed, he headed off to meet Cmdr Deling.