He's loathe to discover what his staff has done to his Sickbay during his convalescence. Why do they always have to rearrange things? It's a damn nuisance having to put everything back where he thinks it should belong.
((OOC: Because little Amara loves him and wants to come out to play!))
The little girl had been skipping along, armed with the "glad you're better" card she made for the doctor, and a wrapped package she had spent quite a lot of time on. She came to a sudden halt when she reached Sickbay and frowned, placing her arms on her hips.
"Wrong doesn't begin to describe-" he starts, irritated. Seeing his young visitor though, he cuts himself off abruptly. No foul language in front of children.
"That goes there. And that goes there." She looked around, not liking the changes to what had become familiar to her. "Do you need help fixing it? Are you feeling better?"
"No, no, no. My staff did this. They can darn well do most of the work to put it all back. Correctly!"
He doesn't have the energy to do it himself. If they knew he was here, they'd probably kick him out. He pulls out a foot stool and desposits himself, dismay written all over his face.
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The little girl had been skipping along, armed with the "glad you're better" card she made for the doctor, and a wrapped package she had spent quite a lot of time on. She came to a sudden halt when she reached Sickbay and frowned, placing her arms on her hips.
"What happened in here? It's all wrong!"
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(ooc: Little Amara is always welcome. :D )
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He doesn't have the energy to do it himself. If they knew he was here, they'd probably kick him out. He pulls out a foot stool and desposits himself, dismay written all over his face.
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