Flight Station Three Three Seven

[Gunner Rodes]

"In the context of your example, I guess he does."

Gunner didn't sound wholly convinced by his answer. He was using Dr. Jsorra's logic, and his parameters of friendship, to arrive at a conclusion. It felt a bit like wish-fulfillment, like he was being told what he wanted to hear. But Dr. Jsorra was not a liar. His job was to help him see the truth, and make sense of things that seem complicated. Friendship was a complicated thing because people were complicated. There should be rules, like, if you go for a beer and don't talk about work, that makes you friends, or, if you give someone a gift when it isn't Life Day, then you're friends. In the thoughtful silence - Dr. Jsorra encouraged thoughtful silences - he imagined what a friendship would be like between Tristan and himself, or if indeed what they already had was friendship.

"I don't know," he concluded with a shrug, "I'll ask him."

And, just as he was about to consider the matter of friendship closed, his expression darkened beneath the shadow of a troubling thought.

"What if Tristan was angry with me as a friend?"

[Arnan Jsorra]

There was something sad about that question, and something sad about Gunner Rodes that made you want to bundle him up like the awkward puppy he was and reassure him that he'd been a good boy, and that everything was going to be okay. The galaxy was a scary, complicated, confusing place, a fact that was easily forgotten by most, and yet Gunner experienced that to the fullest, though not always in the most obvious ways.

Still, Arnan couldn't simply hand him answers, reassurances, or countermeasures to what life threw his way. His task was to help Gunner learn to build those for himself; prepare him to survive a little better in the world beyond the doors of this office.

"If Tristan is your friend, or at least sees you as such from that perspective, then he is interested in your wellbeing. He cares about you, on a personal level. He wants you to be happy."

He arranged his features into a patient frown, once again walking Gunner through the possibilities.

"I am no expert," he lied, "But it seems that Lieutenant Tahmores was trying to support you and assist you in your -" What had Gunner called it? "- unconventional comms with Preita'rrou Taassaurra. In fact, from your description, he did not show any signs of any negative feeling until after the call was terminated. Think back over those final moments. Is there anything that, from the perspective of a friend, might have seemed as if it ran contrary to his investment in your happiness and wellbeing?"

Arnan winced a little, feeling the convoluted path that the logic was taking; a little too much for even Gunner's ambulatory thought processes, perhaps. He offered a faint facial shrug, letting the pretence of guidance fall aside for a moment.

"My hypothesis? Tristan was trying to help you score a date with a girl you seemed attracted to, and then you hung up without making plans, or figuring out how you were going to talk to her again."

[Gunner Rodes]

"He was trying to help me!" Gunner confirmed, in an undertone of vindication.

That part had always been clear to him about Tristan, even against the contrasting light of his reprimand, but now it was starting to make total sense. He sat upright, suddenly, supercharged by this new information, and turned to face Dr. Jsorra. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees - a plea for them to work together to figure it all out. His finger tips tapped together in rapid succession as he drummed up the first of his new thoughts.

"So so so Tristan was upset that I didn't score a date?" He tried to imagine himself in Tristan's place, but that was too difficult. He rubbed his head vigorously in thought. "Ok, so you said he was invested in my happiness. If you make an investment in something, you want to see a return on that investment, and in this case, the return would've been me asking Kiimiti out on a date. But I didn't do that. I ended the call. All of the help he gave me had gone to waste."

He looked up now, searching Dr. Jsorra's face for a clue. His face was usually still, a placid lake of non-emotion, until it wasn't. Dr. Jsorra always knew when to be generous with his expressions. He was a very smart man, Gunner could see it in his eyes, they were sharp, and piercing, but soft, too, and gentle. He recognised that look: his intelligence was tempered with kindness, just like Dr. Kazall. Just like Dad. And there was something else that he recognised, too. It went unspoken, but rang as clear as a bell. A confirmation that lit the way for his thoughts to follow. He smiled, pleased with himself.

"I'm right, aren't I?" He waited for no response, instead he clung to his momentum, and ran with it, "Ok, so I should ask Kiimiti out on a date. We can go eat somewhere that serves Cizerack food, or human food, if she wants to try something different. I don't mind. I could bring her flowers, or a Shyriiwook dictionary. I bet she'd like that."

The afterglow of victory paled for a moment, as he considered something else, "I owe Tristan an apology. He helped me out and I let him down. I don't think he likes flowers. I'll get him beer instead. Yeah. I'll apologise to Tristan, first, then I'll get my dick wet."

[Arnan Jsorra]

There it was: the blossom of realisation across Gunner's face. It was moments like this that made the job worth it. It could be hard at times, brutal even, draining to watch people wrestle with their emotions and struggle with their trauma. Watching thoughts click together, though? Watching someone's face change as a new train of thought rewrote their concept of the world for the better? Of all the fields of medicine, mental healthcare was the one that perhaps offered the least tangible, visible results: you didn't see the satisfaction of watching a patient recover the ability to walk, or regain the ability to hear. You cherished moments like this, small and quiet victories, subtle contributions to a slightly better universe.

"I think that's a good call on the flowers," Arnan agreed with a sage nod. "There are exceptions, oddly sexist ones now I think about it actually, but in most cultures, a gift of flowers tends to convey a sense of romantic interest. Under the circumstances, I think that might be a confusing message to risk sending."

Or perhaps it wasn't. Arnan contemplated the possibility for a moment, regarding today's conversation from a new perspective. Certainly, Tristan Tahmores was someone in whom Gunner displayed a significant level of interest. While he portrayed it as platonic, the way he described his pilot, the way he fixated on details like his voice and mannerisms when he spoke about the man, it was an interpretation that certainly didn't seem to want for supporting evidence. From his own experiences, he knew that such realisations were difficult to understand, even when they occurred inside your own head. When you grew up in a world that raised you with certain expectations, it was all too easy to fall into the trap of classifying your feelings differently purely based on how your life had taught you to regard different genders. If Gunner's feelings towards Tristan really were of that nature, it would certainly explain a few things.

Arnan frowned, tapping his stylus idly against his notes.

"Do you often find yourself harboring romantic or sexual feelings towards your male coworkers?"

[Kiimiti Taassaurra]

"Ssometjimess."

Kiimi held the glass of water in her lap with both hands, drumming her fingertips on its rim. She paused to take a sip, and lowered the glass again to still the bounce of a restless leg.

"Okajy. M-m-morre than ssometjimess. A lot. B-but not that jI'm thjinkjing about, jyou know, d-d-dojing anjythjing. jIt'ss therre jin mjy head, and then jit'ss g-g-gone."

Even now, the way Doctor Jsorra talked to her. The sound of his voice, slightly exotic to her. She quickly looked back at her water before a purr might betray another spontaneous flight of fantasy.

[Arnan Jsorra]

Arnan offered her a small smile, leaning forward encouragingly in his chair.

"And that's okay."

Kiimiti Taassaurra was a tricky patient to assist. Not complicated, but very easy to spook, and very prone to spiralling thoughts that span off at tangents based on her worries and insecurities. Her voice and body language at least made that somewhat easy to spot, once you'd got the hang of how emotions played out across Cizerack physiology. He wondered how much of it she was conscious of, and how much were nervous ticks driven by her subconscious of which she had no real awareness. Such would be something difficult to discover without challenging them directly, however, and provoking some sort of self-conscious reaction from the Preita'rrou.

Arnan let the stylus rest between his fingers, allowing himself to indulge in a nervous mannerism of his own, fingers idly fidgeting the implement. It was not for show, not fraudulent, and not something he drew explicit attention to: more a subtle relaxation of his efforts to curb such tendencies, a deliberate breach in his social defenses that allowed Kiimiti a glimpse of a shared affectation.

"I have helped a lot of the Cizeri -"

He stopped himself, deliberately, adjusting his features into a frown, artificially creating a modest opportunity for Kiimiti to bolster her confidence.

"I'm sorry. Is it Cizerack? Cizeri? Cizeracks? I've never been quite sure, and I'd be a fool to pass up an opportunity to seek an answer from an expert linguist."

[Kiimiti Taassaurra]

Grateful for the spotlight to shine somewhere other than her idle sexual daydreams, Kiimi's smile was almost one of relief, and she instantly calmed a bit.

"Cizeri jiss correct. Cizerack jiss morre forr ssjingularr orr p-p-prroperr usse, ljike a tjitle."

Ahh, I see what you did there. So she was aware of the little trick after the fact, but that was nice of him. Doctor Jsorra, what a nice guy. He probably liked to...

She blinked, then took another drink of water, using the swallow afterward as an opportunity to clear her throat.

"Excusse me."

[Arnan Jsorra]

It hadn't quite achieved the desired effect, but Arnan wasn't deterred.

"Well in that case, I've helped a number of the other Cizeri officers come to an understanding of other Alliance cultures, and how their attitudes towards sex, gender, and courtship function. Having urges and desires is a natural part of your culture. What the Cizeri tend not to realise is that they are absolutely a part of other cultures in the Alliance as well. The difference is usually between how cultures act upon those impulses, and as that is an active behaviour, it is far easier to make concessions there, than to attempt to affect thoughts that are nothing more than a cognitive manifestation of physiological reactions."

He let his features settle back into his usual smile. "In other words, Kiimi, you're already several steps ahead of your peers. Separating the impulse from the intention to act? That is exactly the right thing to do."

He pulled away, no longer feeling the necessity of his reassurance posture, instead settling back into something more overtly comfortable and relaxed, making full use of the lumbar padding in his seat. Interest in his notes was abandoned for now, but his stylus still continued to idly fidget subtly, as much by accident as by intent.

"Before we stumbled down this path, you were telling me about your comm encounter with -" For a split second, his notes were needlessly consulted. "- Flight Officer Roads. What made that different from your normal encounters with Alliance males? What about the exchange invited you to take that step from impulse to action?"

[Kiimiti Taassaurra]

The way he put his reassurance made Kiimi feel a little uneasy, and she shifted her weight on the couch slightly. Of course she shouldn't be going off on every idle deviant thought, but who did that anyway? Of course, there was a lot more to human checks and balances than in Cizeri culture, so maybe the intention was still good. Either way, being several steps ahead of her peers felt exhausting at times. She second-guessed herself enough around Cizeri.

Her ears perked - and her train of thought derailed - immediately when Doctor Jsorra mentioned Gunner.

"Oh. Well, um. He wjisshed me g-good forrtune."

She paused, amending her statement with a raised finger.

"jIn Cizeri, jI mean. He assked jif jit wass Ja irra korra'nai, orr Ja irra korra'rrou, b-b-but the wajy he ssajid jit, he wass pjitch perrfect - beautjiful."

Her raised finger had begun to busy itself twirling into her curly ringlets of blonde hair as she talked.

"He'ss a sself-taught p-p-poljyglot, er, that meanss he sspeakss manjy languagess."

[Arnan Jsorra]

Arnan offered a small but encouraging smile.

"Common interests are often a good foundation for a romantic endeavour," he conceded, words chosen as carefully as ever. "Though from the way you speak about it, it is not his ability to speak many languages that intrigues you, but rather his ability to speak your own. You yourself are fluent in an additional language - Basic - as are most of the non-humans on this station. Fluency in a second language is not in itself remarkable, and yet with this individual, you speak as if it is."

A thoughtful pause interrupted the Doctor's speech.

"Why do you think that is? Do you find it exceptional because he is human? Is it the novelty of him knowing your language, through choice rather than necessity? Does his ability to speak Cizeri imply that he might be receptive to other aspects of Cizeri culture, such as gender roles, making him a more viable candidate for romance than the average patriachy-born Alliance officer?"