[ as is she. perhaps she would have recognized the gold shirt that command officers used to adorn, but right now she's more focused on the obvious injuries this man has sustained. field medic training kicks in, demanding her attention in a way that's not at all leering. it's concerned observation, noting the bandages and the scent, the way he's carefully pulling that shirt back down over his bruised and bandaged torso.
broken ribs, most likely. she would have commented on that or his casual report of the station's current status, but her gaze catches on that insignia. ]
They did— [ but more importantly: ] That's a Starfleet emblem.
no subject
broken ribs, most likely. she would have commented on that or his casual report of the station's current status, but her gaze catches on that insignia. ]
They did— [ but more importantly: ] That's a Starfleet emblem.