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SD 241910// Joint Log// Talrian/Rahl// Between A Hard Head and a Rock

Posted on 28 Oct 2019 @ 11:33pm by Lieutenant Talrian Bran & Lieutenant Quinle Rahl

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: Security Offices

"Enter," Talrian said to the door chime as he stood from his desk but hit the controls that blanked out the monitors behind him. Whoever was at his office door was a member of the crew, that much had to be obvious, but that didn't mean they were cleared to know what his department was working on at any given time. Or which areas were under more strident surveillance. Or who was being watched. He had plenty of people on that list at the moment.

He was still standing when the door opened, but he was staring at a PaDD in his hand, and not paying attention to his visitor. "Any complaints that need to be filed should start with a security officer," he said, absently. He didn't have the time or inclination to deal with the minor complaints that always came in - especially from those who felt as if they deserved special attention from a department head.

“And if I have no complaint to file?” Rahl asked softly, her refined voice clear in the span that separated them. She was finally starting to show a hint of the exhaustion she was feeling as she worked herself at the same pace she had been warning others against. After she entered the room she clasped her hands behind her back and stood in a relaxed version of attention, her poised nature keeping her comfortable in the moment.

Talrian stopped and looked up for a moment. He knew who she was. How could he not? After their recent return she was going all over the ship wanting to talk about feelings and ought to be's and making a general pain in the ass of herself. "Then you're in the wrong place," he said, his eyes dropping back to the PaDD on the desk. "Someplace where you're definitely not needed."

Quinle had been expecting the resistance and she stood inside the doorway tipping her head to the side, the long line of her neck exposed with her hair pulled to the side. “And yet I am exactly where I believe I should be, even if you do not think so.”

"Belief is useless," Talrian muttered, "especially when that's your entire reason for doing anything. Perhaps you should consider spending your time where it's wanted. There's no need for uselessness in this office." He looked up, meaning to convey the entire security office, not just his. "Go find the weak ones who agonize over nothing at all."

“I have yet to see anyone on the ship doing nothing at all.” The words were said simply, “Everyone is doing what is needed to make sure that we are all functioning at our highest ability. My best service is not always where it is wanted, but where it is needed.” His words caused her no pause in the least as she remained calm in her posture and her expression. “Better to handle my duties before I am ordered to.”

Talrian glared at the uninvited woman, his jaw clenched as he regarded her. "I see being nice isn't going to work so let me be direct. Either under your own power or by force, you will leave this office." His hands moved from the desk. One went to his waist, the other rested on the grip of his sidearm in the drop holster. Now, he'd give her some time to come to her senses and discover the better part of the situation. "I've been more than plain in indicating you're not wanted here."

Quinle raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at the threat. “Not wanted but needed. I suppose I can wait until you end up locked up or forced to see me.” She lowered her head slightly, “Until then.” Turning on a heel she walked away.

"Counselor!" Talrian called, as he moved around the desk to get to her before she was completely out of the office.

He held his breath for a moment, looking away from her. His body was still tight, thrumming, his jaw clenched as he took a few moments. "I have an enlisted man, a Betazoid security officer." Talrian spoke slowly, not wanting to rush this. Hating that he even had to ask. Hating even more that he was the reason he had to ask. "Cindreth is his name. Has he..." He took another breath, it was a stalling manuever, he knew that much at least. "Have you seen him?"

It was only a couple steps, not enough for her to reach the doorway when he called, taking a half step more she was prepared to keep moving but then stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. Her dark eyes looked at him now as he moved from behind the desk, her body followed the turn of her head and she faced him once more, hands folded before her. Not giving much away due to privacy issues, but as Cindreth’s supervisor Talrian could petition her office to know if Cindreth was being seen by her anyway, or he could order the man to, so she decided to just acknowledge the information official channels would have supplied him. “He has been by, and I hope will continue to take the time to see me more in the future.”

There was a lot more he wanted to ask. For one, how Cindreth was doing and if he would be able to recover. What could Talrian do to help assist him in his recovery? But, he knew there were rules and protocols in place to keep privacy and confidentiality. It was designed to help alleviate some of the anxiety over seeing a therapist. Still, he wanted to know. How could he ask her to violate her professional conduct and rules when he would be offended for someone asking him to do the same. Instead, he merely nodded. "Thank you. He..." this part was hard for him because of the role he played in the need. "He has all the time he needs."

Quinle looked to him, a certain softness to her feature as she lowered her head into a gentle acknowledgement of his words. Knowing his struggle to ask of her anything, and his reluctance to even be in her presence or acknowledge her necessity on the ship, she managed to ignore that to take a moment to offer the support he made need in this. “I will be sure he takes what he needs to come back.” She offered a small tip of her head, a warmth in her gaze, “All I want is for everyone to be able to work to the best of their ability, and as easily with one another that I can assist with.”

"Good," he said, starting to turn away. "Make him-" He cut himself off, recognizing the harsh, brusque nature of his tone. The natural tendency to bark it as an order. He lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. He'd been hearing what was being whispered, and in many cases, outright said about him when he wasn't around. The perception of him the rest of the ship had of him because of what he did to save who he could. Cindreth was definitely a prime example of proof justifying their comments about him. He took a deep breath, trying to cast that aside. It didn't matter, it dwell on it. He had a job to do and that job wasn't 'making friends'. But, he did what he did to Cindreth and would do it again if the circumstances were the same. But that didn't mean he liked what he did. Or even himself for doing it.

"Please make him better," Talrian whispered, trying not to view making the request sound like a defeat. There was nothing wrong with making requests. He turned further away from her. "Please fix what I did to him."

Quinle looked to him as he turned away, in a lot of ways they were similar in more than he might imagine, neither of their jobs made them very popular with people, not taking any offense to his tone she nodded her head in acceptance of his request. “I will do all I can for him.” A simple, honest statement, the type she was fond of making as they did not make a lot of promises that she could not keep, usually more observations than assurances, but this differed in that, she was promising to him to help Cindreth in much the same way she had made the same promise to herself the moment her doorway had opened to display the Betazoid within its light. Waiting for a more polite dismissal this time, she just looked over Bran, her hands still clasped before her.

Talrian remained where he stood for several long moments more, taking in her words and the inherent promise in it. Then, he straightened and turned. "I'm sure you have other places to be," he said. "Don't let me detain you." He turned back to his desk, thinking about the work he has stacked up.

Rahl turned and walked from the room, accepting his dismissal without another word. The heels of her boots clicking across the floor as she exited the area.


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