Log Date: 8/1/96
Log Cast:
	Tance, Kaylin, Daron, Jolie, Quinn
Log Intro:
	Although the medics have continued to keep him under care in the
Infirmary, Tance Vokrim's memory is catching up with him -- enough for him
to have realized that no, it's not class 1554, and he hasn't just adapted.
And more depressingly, that his life saddens him for a number of reasons
he has only begun to dimly re-grasp. But the medics have noticed this, too,
and have begun work to try to uplift the old Singer -- assuming they
can talk him into it...!

----------
Infirmary(#403RAM)
The main infirmary is a bustling place with medics, orderlies and patients 
  constantly moving about. The floor is covered with a sterile-looking white 
  tile, the walls painted with stripes of various colours. A velvet black 
  stripe leads past several medical offices to Long Term Care, while a dark 
  red stripe leads off in the direction of Short Term facilities. At the 
  nearest end to the lifts, a large administration area has been set up, 
  complete with monitors and computer equipment lining the walls behind the 
  long counter. Towards the other end of the room, several examination tables 
  sit quietly amongst movable privacy screens and sterile cabinets. Since the 
  infirmary is so buried so far underground, only the strongest Passover 
  storms produce any sub-vocal resonances. The ever-present smell of medicines 
  and antispetics hangs in the air. The lighting on this level has been set to 
  a subtle glow for the morning hours, more than enough to see by but soft 
  enough to refrain from straining the vision of patients.
Contents:
Dr. Bear
Catering Unit
Obvious exits:
Private Door Long Term Care Short Term Care Lift

Kaylin has connected.

Tance comes wandering out of the short term care unit, frowning absently, 
  looking about.

Kaylin smiles "Hello, Tance"

Tance looks up instantly, then blinks rapidly. "Who're..."

Kaylin smiles "I'm Kaylin, a doctor here."

Tance stumps nearer, then, bobbing his head. "Good... maybe you can tell 
  me... shouldn't I be doing something...?"
Tance waves a fretful hand around. "This is where sick people stay. I'm not 
  sick... I mean, I don't think I am." He scowls, worriedly.

Kaylin smiles "Yes, as a matter of fact. You will be going to class soon. 
  Learning how to be a crystal singer. learning how to fly a sled.

Tance blinks. "But..." He shoves a hand through his greyed hair, the 
  confused scowl still there. "You people told me I _am_ a crystal singer..."

Kaylin smiles "Well, you are, but you've been sick and we like to send our 
  people thru refresher courses."

Tance mumbles, "Sick?" His gaze goes more absent. "Adapted.. I..."

Kaylin smiles "Yes, you are adapted now."
Kaylin says "But you had a hard adaptation, so we'd like you to go back to 
  class for a while."

Tance rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. "I... I keep dreaming... I 
  can't remember..."
Tance looks up, and says anxiously, "I have to get offworld."

Kaylin shakes her head "No, you don't have to just yet. I promise you."

Tance's brow furrows, and he starts to turn, as if to pace, his movements 
  restless.
You say "I, I, I-I have to be doing something... I can't stay here... the 
  green..!"

Kaylin chuckles "I tell you what, why don't you stay down here with us 
  until the classes start."

Tance(#3209POQce)
This is a man of just under average height, with a build that might be 
  skinny if not augmented by knots of wiry muscle along his shoulders and 
  limbs. He is deeply tanned, with the look of one who spends a lot of time 
  working outdoors, and his roughly planed face and callused hands show signs 
  of regular weathering. His eyes, a dark and sullen shade of brown, are 
  framed by lines in his skin that suggest that far too often, their owner 
  glares at anything in his sight.

His hair, a peppered mix of dark brown, lighter sunstreaks, and myriad 
  strands of grey, has been trimmed to a short but not unattractive style, 
  with even a lock to dangle a little in front and give him a more youthful 
  look. A neat Vandyke beard, closer to grey than his hair, stands out palely 
  against his weathered face, set off by his tan. He is clad only in one of 
  the utilitarian gowns the Infirmary of the Heptite Guild issues to its 
  patients, a thing of servicable grey cloth that grants at least a measure of 
  dignity and privacy to the wearer while allowing a medic to scan him or her 
  with ease.

Kaylin smiles "Hungry< Tance?"

Tance shakes his head, restlessly, shifting back again. "I have to _do_ 
  something," he insists. "Ate already." His hands flex slightly before him, 
  as if grasping a phantom cutter.

Kaylin sighs "Yes, you have to learn how to use a cutter and fly a sled so 
  you can go do your job."
Kaylin smiles "soon we will be having classes that will help you."

Tance begins to pace in earnest, and he protest in a rasp, "Know how to 
  cut. In my bones... I-I know...!"

Kaylin turns and enters something into the computer. "But Tance, yes, you 
  did know, but you've forgotten. You need to relearn."

Tance, looking oddly frightened, suddenly bellows, "I've forgotten more 
  about cutting than those pups'll ever know! I can't! I can't!" He takes a 
  step back, clearly agitated now. "I won't do it!"

Kaylin sighs "If you don't, you won't be able to go do your job."

Tance hugs his skinny arms to himself, and a tautness to his frame suggests 
  that he very well might be trembling. "Not there," he mumbles, disheartened, 
  voice plummeting in volume as quickly as it had risen. "What's the use?"

Daron walks softly from the lift area.
Daron has arrived.
Daron walks in quietly, shrugging on his medical jacket.

Kaylin smiles "Hi there Daron"

Tance mutters dejectedly at the floor, "Won't remember anyhow... already 
  drained me dry, and Meg's gone..."

Daron smiles, "Heya Kaylin. Tance."

Kaylin sighs "Tance, you can remember." She grins at Daron.

Daron slides into a seat at the station and begins working on something.

Tance hugs himself again, and scowls darkly, flicking a glance at Kaylin -- 
  though if either of the medics are closely inspecting him, they might catch 
  a suspiciously wet glimmer in his eyes. "Who says?" he growls, belligerently.

Kaylin says "Tance, what if you can't remember? You need refresher courses. 
  If not, we can't let you out. I don't care how angry you get."

Jolie walks softly from the lift area.
Jolie has arrived.

Tance continues to glower at the floor, and he smirks and barks out, "Which 
  is it, Doc? I can remember, or I can't?" He starts pacing again, fretfully. 
  "Guild that short on new pups that it has to dig up old karkers like me? 
  Nine hells of Nirabay, they can lecture at me all they want, but if my 
  karking sym can't find the karking crystal, what the freg am I supposed to 
  do about it?"

Jolie smiles as she walks in, well-rested from the night."

Tance's voice grows progressively louder again with each lap of his pace. 
  His shoulders quiver, tautly.

Kaylin sighs and shakes her head.

Daron glances at Jolie then at Tance.

Kaylin looks at Jolie and Daron, her eyes a mute plea for help.

Jolie's face loses its quite so happiness.

Daron says "It may be that you just need a little time and some retraining."

Tance reaches a wall, smacks it, then leans against it, back turned to the 
  medics, face pressed against his wiry arm. "No such thing as time for an old 
  Singer," he mutters, roughly. "Don't get it, do you, pup? My head's 
  _broken_. Three hours from now I won't remember any of this. What the freg 
  makes you think I'm going to remember a lecture? Ought to karking well pay 
  the Guild back for the air I'm breathing and go fly into a mach storm just 
  like Meg..." Then, abruptly, he cuts himself off, with a strange strangled 
  croak, and crumples down to huddle at the wall's base.

Kaylin sighs deeply "Tance, all we are trying to do is help you.

The old Singer groans out, "Then don't make me remember...!"

Daron says "I doubt you'll ever remember anything until you really wish to."

Tance does not look up.

Jolie spakes up for the first time, "Would you rather try, or live the rest 
  of your life a veritable vegetable? There are those who have, you know."
Jolie says "Rembil, for example. Have you heard of him? He was once as you 
  are now, resisting help of any kind."

"Got news for you," Tance snaps, "I already am a vegetable. Real easy to 
  remember repeating loops of 'crash my sled, break my cutter, break my head,' 
  when that's all that's ever happened to me!"
Tance adds, turning now, eyes hot, wet, "And you want me to remember that 
  _better_?"

Jolie says "Well, being a vegetable like you say you are now is much better 
  then being a vegetable like Rembil." She brings up a picture of a drooling 
  person, old and wrinkled. "He was in the same boat as you are now, not too 
  long ago, and he just gave up."

Tance smirks, flicking a hollow look at the holo, then off into space. "Why 
  the kark shouldn't I give up, girlie? You think I like the fact that it's 
  the green in my blood, and nobody ever karking wants green?" Back to Jolie, 
  again, as he yells, "You think I like busting every bone in my body in the 
  Ranges over crystal nobody wants?!"

Daron calls up something on the medical screen, "Tell me, Tance. Would you 
  like to look like this?"

It's uncertain how old this man is, but he looks old, his silvered hair 
  shot only with a smattering of what might have been black. Like a swallow's 
  nest, it curls tightly around his head, framing his craggy features, so 
  pale, not having seen the ranges in perhaps centuries. The nearly 
  translucent skin, shows the ravages of time on a once vital singer. His once 
  blue eyes are clouded and focus on the ceiling where a constantly shifting 
  fractal attempts to elicit some response form him. The monitors show no real 
  mental activity, and watching his face, you see a bit of drool collecting at 
  the corners of his mouth. Infrequently, a meditech takes pity on him and 
  wipes his face clean, otherwise he is all but forgotten.

Jolie stays calm, even being yelled at, "People use it, why do you think it 
  gets sold. Every bit of crystal gets used in time."

Daron says "Tance, are you really looking at this and do you plan on 
  becoming like him."

Tance eyes the second holo, then jerks his gaze away, and spits at Daron, 
  "Of course not, pup, I'd rather be tall and handsome like that leg-shaker... 
  what's his name! What do _you_ think?" He surges to his feet. "Fact of the 
  matter is, I'm _gonna_ look like that no matter what I do! Head's gone 
  already, can't find crystal worth a damn, sure, the green gets sold, but 
  does it get sold enough so I can karking _eat_?!"

Jolie looks at you for a moment.

Daron eyes Tance and he says, "Have you considered the fact that you're not 
  the only green singer? How can they be successful ant NOT you?"

Jolie says quietly and calmly, "But the thing is, you don't right /now/. 
  You may be somewhat aged, sure, but everyone ages. You have to get on with 
  your life. YOu /can/ be successful."

Quinn walks softly from the lift area.
Quinn has arrived.
Quinn wanders in, and stops short, his hearing having picked up Jolie's 
  last comment. He looks at the meditechs, Tance, and the images up on the 
  monitors.

Tance, as a fourth medic arrives, jerks... and eyes Quinn and the others 
  with an increasingly frantic look, making him resemble a cornered animal. 
  "That's what it's all about, isn't it?" he snarls. "Milking more and more 
  crystal out of us till we turn into drooling wrecks?"

Quinn steps around Jolie, and settles at his computer. He logs in, and 
  presses a few points on the screen.

Jolie shakes her head, "Tance, I don't give a thing whether or not you 
  bring in more crystal. Just that you improve so that you begin to enjoy life 
  such that it is to some degree."

Tance cackles, brittlely. "Life? What do you know about my life, girlie? 
  What the kark makes you think I want to remember it?"

Quinn silently transfers this last image, the one on his own screen, to a 
  third monitor, glancing up to watch the screen flicker into vividity. This 
  one is a synthesis. Of the man in Long Term Care, superimposed over Tance's 
  own face, taken from his medical file.
Quinn comments, mildly, "Amazing what computer graphics can do, isn't it?"

Jolie says "I did /not/ say remember it. I said enjoy it as it is now. The 
  past doesn't so much matter."

Tance clamps his eyes shut, blocking out the stark pictures on the 
  monitors. Then he smirks again, and retorts, "And what the kark makes you 
  think anything about my life is enjoyable?"

Daron says "Well it seems you took a great pleasure in ice cream."

Jolie shrugs, "I don't. I do know that anything can be enjoyable and that 
  even if it's not, things can change for the better."

Tance continues at Jolie, "Pleasure takes money or memory, girlie, and I 
  don't have either!" He cuts, then, and eyes Daron suspiciously.'

Quinn says, calmly, "Afraid to face what you want to be, Tance? Look at 
  them, Tance. Imagine yourself, trapped that way. Because that is what you 
  are, apparently, asking for."

Tance whirls to face Quinn, and yells, "What I want is _gone_ and not 
  coming back!"

Jolie shakes her head, "Money isn't everything. And you remember some 
  things. YOu must."

Quinn lifts his shoulders, and stands back up, leaving the images up, "You 
  can't always get what you want. But you can keep yourself from *that*...." 
  He hooks his finger at the monitors, "... if you're man enough to do it." Is 
  he *purposely* making the Singer angry?

Tance ignores Jolie, to bellow in Quinn's direction, voice growing ragged 
  with anguish, "She's _GONE_! _DEAD!_ And I can't... I can't remember the 
  color of her eyes! And you tell me I'm supposed to enjoy life? _KARK YOU!_"

Quinn leans against the corner of a desk, though his muscles tense in 
  preparation.
Quinn pushes off, and paces closer to the Singer. He says, quietly, "Then 
  find out. Remember the good time, Tance, not the pain and suffering. You 
  *can* do it. I know you can."
Quinn adds, "All of us know you can. All of us want to help you. But you 
  have to take the first step."

Tance stands there, shuddering now, dark eyes rather more visibly wet. 
  "Dung," he growls, but the vehemence has drained out of his voice along with 
  the volume.

Quinn pulls out a chair, and offers it without a word, "Maybe, Tance, you 
  could tell us about her? Help us understand what's important to you. Because 
  you are important to us."

Tance stares at the medic with the chair, distrustfully - particularly on 
  the phrase 'important to us'. "Yeah, right, cracking an old man's drive," he 
  mumbles. But after a moment he edges to the chair.

Quinn goes back to leaning against the desk, "Tance, we're medics. We could 
  pretty much care less about crystal. I mean, to me, crystal is just a set of 
  rocks with some interesting properties. To medics, people are what's 
  important. You are a person, Tance, and I will be *damned* before I just 
  *let* you become THAT. Hear me?"

Daron says "Want anything Tance?"

Quinn jerks his head towards the monitors again.
Quinn glances towards the other medics, "I'm pretty sure they will agree 
  with me."

Jolie nods, "That's right. Crystal is not the important thing here."

Tance's glower slides from face to face. His scowl is wavering.

Quinn's face is open, honest. Either that or he's done this before and has 
  a real good 'poker' face.

Daron nods to Quinn, then to Tance, "We're in the scinec to help people."

Finally, the Singer's shoulders slump. "Don't remember much to tell," he 
  mumbles.

Quinn nods, "Then tell us what you remember. And we'll see if we can look 
  some things up about her, and remind you of some more things. A lot of 
  memory is association, Tance." He pauses, then asks, "Did you make a 
  journal, Tance?"

Tance doesn't meet anybody's eyes, now; his still-wet gaze is trained on 
  the floor. "Datapad broke. Couldn't afford a new one." Something about that 
  makes him frown, briefly, vaguely.

Quinn says, quietly, "Look up, Tance. Tell us about her, what you remember. 
  But look up. You are a good person, Tance. Be proud of that - because there 
  aren't a lot of people one can say that about."
Quinn reaches over to thumb his computer off - which also turns off his 
  overhead monitor. He glances at the others, then the other medics.

"Doctor talk," barks Tance, lowly, but at least he does lift his gaze 
  somewhat.

Jolie nods, "That's very true."

Quinn replies, humor evident in his voice, "Can't help that. It's what I 
  am, a doctor."

Tance eyes Quinn now under eyebrows drawn together, in an odd kind of 
  fascination, as if the medic were some sort of strange species he'd never 
  run into before, or speaking a completely alien tongue.

Quinn just grins back at Tance.

Daron manages to maintain a straight face.

Tance rolls one shoulder in a shrug, and mutters, "What'm I supposed to do?"

Quinn lifts his shoulders, "Start at the beginning? Where did you meet?"

Jolie says "Good question."

Tance frowns... still looking at Quinn, or at least to him. Karked if he's 
  going to let the pup intimidate him, but... "Don't remember," he mutters 
  plaintively.

Quinn hms, "Well, maybe we can remind you?" He walks up to the computer 
  again, and then pauses, "No. Why don't you call up her records, Tance?"

Tance blinks.

Quinn pulls out his own chair for Tance to sit in, then steps back.

Tance begins, "I..."

Quinn looks at Tance, questioningly.

Jolie says "Tance, go ahead."

Quinn nods, "You can do it."

The Singer looks somewhat frightened again, but after a moment, he lets out 
  an explosive breath and jerkily shifts to the other chair. As if expecting 
  the computer to somehow strike at him, Tance eyes it for a few moments, then 
  hunt-and-pecks the commands to bring up the search engine for the Guild's 
  roster. Slowly, the monitor flashes the results of his efforts, as he feeds 
  it the single word 'Meguey'. The computer responds with a pleasant chirp and 
  'Working...'

The computer eventually responds with three matches -- but the third, 
  Meguey Radmynn, is tagged as 'Crystal Singer, adapted class 1554.'

Quinn smiles. Just that. Smiles. And watches.

Jolie stands back, giving the Senior Singer some time and space to catch up 
  with his memories.
Jolie looks at you for a moment.

Quinn asks, quietly, before the image can be brought up, "What color are 
  her eyes, Tance? Just see it in your mind. You can do it. I know you can."

Hesitantly, Tance punches in the order to bring up the record in question. 
  The screen blanks, then refills with information, with the title 'CS Meguey 
  Radmynn' at the top. But Tance isn't looking -- indeed, the old Singer has 
  jerked his gaze away, mouth twisted, pained. He doesn't see the holo of a 
  young-seeming woman's face come up with the rest of the data: a short shock 
  of yellow hair that sticks up in a brief inverted comma over her left eye, 
  dark golden eyebrows, a slim but down-turning nose dotted with freckles.

Quinn steps forward, and places a hand on the old Singer's shoulder, "You 
  *can* do it, Tance Vokrim." Confident, not a doubt in his voice.

Jolie is nodding, agreeing with Quinn, but not able to say anything, or not 
  wanting to.

The image of Meguey Radmynn stares out from the computer screen, apparently 
  slightly amused, for there's a bit of an upward quirk to her mouth, as 
  though she shares some private joke with whoever snapped the holo. Still not 
  looking at her, Tance mumbles hoarsely, "Can't remember any color but 
  green..."

The face on the screen regards her viewers -- with eyes the pale, delicate 
  shade of fresh spring leaves, at least on worlds with a yellow sun.

Quinn's smile widens, and he squeezes the Singer's shoulder gently, "Look 
  at the screen, Tance."

Jolie smiles, too. Softly smiles, still not speaking.

The old Singer looks up, with an effort. Live brown eyes meet recorded 
  green, and the former well over with tears.

Quinn leaves his hand on the shoulder of the Singer, and says, quietly, 
  "Tance, if you believe in yourself, you can do anything. The proof is right 
  before you. I know it hurts, but ... isn't it better to remember than to 
  forget the good things?"

The shoulder in question is trembling violently, now, as is the rest of 
  Tance Vokrim. "I-I-I couldn't keep her f-f-from karkin' dying!" he mumbles, 
  voice strangled, tears streaming down his weathered face. Near the girl's 
  holo, where the personnel record displays 'Status', text in a pale red reads 
  'Deceased'.

Jolie moves over to Tance, and places a light hand on his other shoulder. 
  Her eyes are slightly wet, too, being somewhat caught up in the moment. She 
  still can;t speak.

Quinn circles around so that he can see Tance's face, "But don't you see, 
  Tance? You *have* prevented her from dying. Our bodies may quit, but so long 
  as we remember - and love - the person never dies. There will come a time 
  when your body will quit on you, and the symbiont won't be able to help 
  anymore. There's no stopping that. It's natural. But even after your body 
  dies, your memory lives on. In me. In Jolie. And now hers does too. Even 
  though the symbiont takes away our ability to bring forth heirs, it doesn't 
  stop us from being infinite."

Tance whimpers, "But I _won't_ remember her..."

Quinn considers, "Tance, do you know how old you are?"

Jolie nods, finally able to speak, "Yes you will. I will let you come up 
  here any time and look her up, as long as I am able to. And you did remember 
  her, today."

Tance blinks again, taken aback by the abrupt change in subject. "Wh...?"

Quinn leans over to another terminal, and calls up Tance's own record, 
  "You're, according to this, almost 190 years old. And you still remember 
  her. You still *hold* the memory to you. Tance, you remembered her eye 
  color, a fairly small detail. What makes you think that you, Tance Vokrim, 
  will *allow* yourself to forget her?"

Jolie clears her throat quietly, "Tance, if you like, we can give you a 
  print out of her file or even get the data screens in your room to show this 
  all the time unless you're doing other things with it.

Tance swallows hard, jerking a little when the screen replaces Meguey 
  Radmynn with his own -- rather notably younger -- image.
Tance winces, then; the Tance on the screen is brown-haired, face unlined, 
  and the current Tance seems almost as pained to see him as he was to see the 
  dead girl. "No," he whispers, starting to shake his head rapidly, 
  desperately. "No... haunt me with ghosts..."

Quinn says, quietly, "We don't want to shock you, Tance. We don't want to 
  hurt you. Sometimes we have to, though, to get people beyond their current 
  state. You're going to have a good long time to heal." He points at the 
  screen, "That's you, Tance. You're older now, yes. And wiser. And been 
  through so much pain. But it's still you, and you can be him again. Tance, 
  you've survived 190 years. I can't even *consider* how long that is, myself."
Quinn adds, after a pause, "It bespeaks a strength that you only need but 
  tap. And you *can* do it."

Jolie nods, "You are to be admired, Tance."

Is that a blush creeping across the skinny Singer's face? He mumbles, 
  gruffly, "Huh, right..." But his words aren't very loud.

Quinn looks towards the screen again, then back at Tance, "What color are 
  her eyes, Tance?"

Jolie smiles, "It's true. I'll go check on the printout, if you'll excuse 
  me :)"

Tance embarrassedly avoids the innocent gaze of his younger self, his own 
  gaze turned inward. "Green," he breathes.

Quinn smiles, "You tapped that strength to remember that, Tance. You can do 
  it again, and again, and again. And we'll help you. That's what we're here 
  for, Tance. To help."

Jolie smiles softly again, and slips out.
Jolie heads toward the lift area.
Jolie has left.

Quinn is crouching next to Tance, who is sitting in his chair, in front of 
  a computer terminal. On the terminal is Tance's own record.

Tance looks up at Quinn again, and blinks a little, looks down, and once 
  more up. "What... do I gotta do?" he mutters.

Quinn smiles at Tance, "All you really have to do, Tance, is believe in 
  yourself. You *are* a Crystal Singer of the mysterious Heptite Guild. You 
  can do whatever you set your mind to. But, well, just to be safe, we'd like 
  you to go through training again. Mostly to retrain your muscles, your eyes, 
  all those things become basic after a while. And that's mostly because we 
  worry about you." He considers, "In fact, would you mind a rather radical 
  suggestion?" He waits until he has permission before going on.

Tance, shrugging a little as if trying to maintain an air of gruff 
  indifference during most of Quinn's words, then stops. Brow furrowed, he 
  barks, "What kind of suggestion?"

Quinn says, after a moment or two, "I think you'd be an excellent Trainer."

Tance double-takes. Then yelps, "What?!"

Daron stifles a chuckles, instead coughing.

Quinn lifts a hand, "Think about it. You are a Crystal Singer, incredibly 
  experienced. During full disclosure, you would be able to answer the 
  question about your age truthfully -- and be an example as to the benefits 
  of the symbiont. You'd also be able to tell them about the deficits of it. 
  You have experience that none of the others do. I mean, Kesya and Shana... 
  are still fairly young. You have an outlook that they won't have for a long 
  time."
Quinn adds, "And, from a meditech's viewpoint, I think maybe doing 
  something new would not be at all bad for you. Onward and forward, as they 
  say."

Tance blinks rapidly, then squints at Quinn, as if the very idea he's 
  proposing is making his head hurt. "But you just said... gotta be 
  retrained," he blurts.
Quinn nods, "Why not do both?"
Quinn says "Tance, do you remember the last time you met me, before this?"
Quinn says "You mentioned feeling like there was something you should be 
  doing. Remember?"

Tance tilts his head a little, uneasily. "Don't remember..."

Quinn nods, "I figured. You were more than a little out-of-it. But, well, 
  you're not now."

"I... gotta think," mumbles Tance. His hands flicker in front of him, as if 
  reaching for that phantom cutter again.

Quinn nods at Tance, "I wouldn't pressure you. But I do offer it as 
  something to, indeed, think about it."

Tance nods uncertainly, and peers at his hands.

Quinn asks, "Are you tired, Tance?"

"I..." Tance looks up, eyeing the Short Term Care ward warily. "Don't wanna 
  go back in there..."

Quinn looks up at Daron, to see if he wants to take over. Or to see if he 
  wants to release Tance back to his rooms.

Daron says "It's not like he's going go anywhere. He can go back to his 
  quaters."

Quinn asks Tance, "Would you like to return to your quarters, Singer Tance?"

Tance shifts in the chair. "I... wanna work," he says at last.

Quinn sighs, "I'm sorry, Tance. We can't allow that yet. But I think not 
  being here would still do wonders for you."

Tance's face falls. "Gimme a recruit job, then," he cries, fidgeting. "I 
  gotta do something..."

Quinn asks, "How about doing some flying?"
Quinn comments, "I asked Shana if she'd like to fly with you. She was 
  willing. I wish I could take you myself, but I'm not qualified for it."

Tance blinkblinks, then says hastily, "Something... anything..." He glances 
  at his personnel record, then scowls and mutters, "Have to earn my keep."

Quinn nods, "You will, Tance. Don't worry. But there's time for that, 
  Tance. Right now, it's time to rest a little, to sit back."

Tance frowns, disgruntled, slightly scatter-gazed, and again he rubs his 
  hand across his eyes. "Not tired," he mutters.

Daron says "Are you hungry?"

Quinn nods over at Daron.

Tance, looking rather similar to a small child who has just insisted he 
  wants to stay up another hour, repeats, "Not tired."

Daron moves from his seat towards the catering unit
Daron says "Tance? You hungry?"
Daron spins the menufax around to display the fruit selections.

Tance looks blankly over at Daron.

Daron peruses the selections of fruits and orders a glass of orange juice.
Daron says "Want anything, Quinn?"

Quinn hms, "Some juice, I wouldn't mind. Orange."

Daron peruses the selections of fruits and orders a glass of orange juice.
Daron turns his attention back to Tance, "Want anything? Juice? Fruit? ice 
  Cream?"

Tance fidgets, muttering to himself, and then says automatically, "Can't 
  afford it."

Daron says "It's on the house."

Jolie walks softly from the lift area.
Jolie has arrived.

Daron nods to Jolie from over by the catering unit, his attention is 
  however focused on Tance.

Jolie walks back in, a slight smile on her face.
Jolie nods back to Daron.

Quinn grins teasingly, "We'll put it on the medical records as a vitamin 
  supplement."

Tance finally mumbles, "Peach?"

Daron spins the menufax around to display the sweet selections.
Daron peruses the selection of sweets, and orders fresh peach icecream.
Daron balances the tray back over towards Tance and Quinn.
Daron sets it down and hands the bowl of ice cream to Tance and the orange 
  juice to Quinn

Quinn takes the orange juice, with a nod to Daron, and stands, leaning 
  against the corner of the desk, "I'm proud of you, Tance." An unsolicited 
  compliment.

The old Singer's face lightens a little, at least a little. He bobs his 
  head to Daron once, then blinks once more at Quinn, spoon with its first 
  glob of peach ice cream already halfway to his mouth. He then quite visibly 
  blushes, jams the spoon into his mouth, and saves himself from having to 
  make any other reply than "Mrmmf."

Daron picks up his cup of orange juice and take a drink tryng not to choke 
  with laughter as Tance makes the Mrmmf sound.

Quinn just grins. He pushes off the desk, and walks around behind the 
  Singer, leaving him to his ice cream in peace.

Daron finishes his orange juice and returns to his files

As the infirmary finally settles down, Tance settles with his dessert, and 
  for the first time seems actually content.

[End log.]