Trying to Clear the Air

Posted on Sat Sep 5th, 2026 @ 8:19pm by Chief Engineer Michael Burnstein & Evelyn Reynolds

Mission: Veils
Location: Mary Rose Lounge
Timeline: during karaoke
5176 words - 10.4 OF Standard Post Measure

One untouched juice and a series of conveniently-provocative interrogations dressed up as idle chit-chat later, Evelyn was at a loss to know why she was even still there. In the quiet solitude of her own quarters, she had already chastised herself several times over escalating suspicion without adequate cause. It had become a pattern by now, it seemed far easier to convince herself of reasonable coincidence when there was no one physically present to remind her how quickly certainty could evaporate. And though she knew was she tender at the moment due to Starfleet's insistence on dragging out due process, she felt some justification in carrying a degree of tension because, if nothing else, Kaelan was abundantly annoying.

What frustrated her the most, if she set aside concerns that he knew more about her situation than he was letting on, was her inability to determine whether he understood how irritating he was being. Obliviousness by this point would have been a marvel, Evie was pretty sure she hadn't been very subtle near the end of the conversation, but willful ignorance wouldn't have really been any less impressive. The lack of intelligence required to have missed all the cues entirely was about on par with the necessary aptitude to intentionally antagonise a person without missing a cheerful beat. Evelyn had developed some capacity to laugh at herself over the years but, in truth, still took herself a little too seriously to handle mockery with grace and she couldn't shake the feeling that the Denobulan was enjoying himself at her expense. The possibility of malicious motive was just the icing on the cake, really.

And so, after she'd excused herself to the bathroom and found herself trapped enough by her own stubbornness not to make good use of it as an attempt to leave, Evelyn had instead sat herself at the bar and at least rectified one issue by ordering herself a drink. One that she could watch being prepared. She felt the tiniest measure of gratitude for the young Risian bartender, who must surely have noticed the abandoned juice and yet opted not to mention it. Pineapple was a preferred variant otherwise, if for no other reason than it burned slightly on the way down and gave her nervous system something else to focus on whilst she tried to drown out the noise. Surrounded by Betazoids, she felt a pang of envy for the capacity to speak without vocalising; being able to telepathically broadcast the need for a timely rescue would have been handy.

Gunnar leaned back in the booth watching as Burnie sang "You May Be Right (I May Be Crazy)" with T'Ango. He smiled, thinking that before meeting Burnie neither of them had a clue about the old earth artist who performed it, but now they both knew most of his hits. That one in particular, as it fit the engineer. The smile was also for being allowed to sit it out. He'd sung a brief teasing a cappella of 'Soft Kitty' that had earned him a playful swat from T'Ango's tail, but also permission to beg off until he'd had another drink or two. However, he was fairly certain that the real reason had been to allow him a chance to speak to the doctor one on one. For all that she was a warrior by training and profession, at heart T'Ango couldn't help being a peacemaker and looking for ways to ease tension or anxiety in others. It was one of many reasons he loved her.

Seeing Reynolds return and head to the bar, now seemed like an opportune time to retrieve another drink. As he approached the bar, he noted her body language. The doctor gave him the impression of someone who normally kept an almost Romulan level of careful mask in place, but he'd lived with Romulans for awhile now, and he knew a masking slipping under pressure when he saw it. He also had the distinct impression, one he sensed T'Ango shared, that he was somehow a contributing factor, possibly even a major one.

He altered his approach so as to not come from behind, but enough from the side to reduce the chance of startling her. Careful to move slowly, casually, he arrived beside her and lifted a finger catch the bartender's attention. "Gin and tonic, please. An herbal varietal of gin if you have it."

Though the initial tension didn't dissipate entirely, it was worthy of note that Evelyn's shoulders did seem to relax once she'd sized up the new arrival and presumably considered him to be the lesser of all available evils. At the very least, removal from the group seemed to have restored her composure enough to allow a certain clinical curiosity to centre her gaze on Gunnar, which wasn't a bad effort given all her previous attempts to avoid making eye contact at all. Over a sip of juice, one that lingered enough to perhaps make a point of the indulgence, Evie cocked and eyebrow and broke the evening's form by speaking first. "Were there not enough microphones to go around?" She seemed, at least at a surface level, to be amused on his behalf; a typical intensity that sat behind her stare suggested that was just a smokescreen.

It was a better reaction than he'd expected, though as someone with more than a little experience at masking PTSD and/or diverting others from worrying, he spotted the signs. It struck him in fact that it was an even bet that she took his same approach of immersing in professionalism and efficiency on duty and resorting to a best pass at I'm-okay-perfectly-normal-here in social situations where that wouldn't serve. Which meant he had a fair idea of how she might react to someone she'd just met asking about her emotional state (or at least he knew how much counseling he'd needed to reach the point of reacting constructively even with friends). So, he kept his reply to the same level of simple banter, the only token of his observations being in a hint of 'game recognizes game' in his eyes. "Sadly, no. But I was granted a reprieve to gather some liquid courage," he replied offering wry smile as he took the glass placed in front of him and lifted it to his lips. "As soon as I return to the table, I'm sure T'Ango will resume her campaign to get me up there singing."

For all she'd become recently very well-acquainted with the intricacies of losing her mind, Evelyn had far more experience holding her head aloft on the thermal currents of her own pride. It had proven impossible to convince herself entirely that Burnie's friends weren't somewhat problematic; even in a general sense, it felt like only a matter of time before her own involvement with Starfleet would become a glaringly odd exclusion not easily passed off as an oversight and yet there wasn't any obvious way to bring it up without arriving at a point of having to explain why she no-longer-was. Be that as it may, she also had to concede that it was probably a little farfetched to suspect them of any direct intention to interfere. Burnie had been on the ship before she'd arrived, and even her own broken nervous system wasn't enough to override the commonsense of permitting him prior associations that weren't somehow part of a system-wide conspiracy to drive Evelyn Reynolds insane. Evie hated with a passion that her intellect knew exactly how ridiculous all this second-guessing was. The only person she'd ever lost an argument with was herself.

All this to say, it was slightly humiliating to have been forced to handle initial introductions in the midst of also trying to combat Denobulan tenacity. Kaelan was a different matter entirely, having earned his mistrust through one too many well-crafted attempts to provoke her. It certainly didn't earn him any consolation points for being the reason she was failing to hold a simple conversation with a like-minded professional. Her departure from Stafleet was complicated but Evelyn was honest enough to admit she missed aspects of it. Being around people who could think their way in and out of the proverbial paper bag was high on the list of intellectual stimulation she grieved the most.

She managed a faint smile. "Knowing this crew, it won't be too long before there'll be plenty of competition. If you play your cards right, the problem might solve itself."

"Good to know." Gunnar returned the smile with a somewhat larger one showing relief, both at a slight easing of tension from the doctor and the hope of others taking up karaoke slots. "Though honestly, while I don't like being in the spotlight, it's become something of a game between us and eventually she'll win. As much as Tactician vs chess-player should give me an advantage, I'm kind of hopeless at saying no to those eyes for anything short of medical necessity," he admitted. "Though if others join in, I may get to limit to my singing to a duet."

He took another sip of his drink, debating the next move on this particular board. Perhaps he had misread - projection was always a possibility when you were under even low levels of stress related to old triggers - and she could have simply been hacked off enough at Kaelen that trying to contain it had bled through. Or her response had actually been to T'Ango. As much as he personally found it difficult to comprehend a negative reaction to her, intellectually he knew she resembled an earth cougar and carried herself like the combat veteran she was, which could reasonably cause apprehension in others. Or it might simply be that she was a marine. While he'd come to think of her Raider crew as a sort of extended family, and had cared for enough Starfleet marines in various medbays to generally get on well with them, he had had some ...less than positive... interactions with a few of the marines at his current posting, either due to an enthusiasm for using explosive ordinance that would have shocked even Burnie, or the general condescension toward 'fleeties' that so many of them seemed to adopt. Hmm... His last statement and their interactions so far should have provided some opening if Reynolds wanted to ease her mind on that, but if the issue had been Kaelen, it was perhaps worth sacrificing a pawn. If nothing else, it would test if tensions had eased enough for a mild and somewhat jesting personal inquiry. "So, are you back here avoiding karaoke like me, or just for reprieve from an extreme extrovert refusing to believe everyone isn't quite as enthusiastic about socializing as he is?"

A split second later and Evelyn would have had to add 'choking on her drink' to the list of questionable social mishaps she'd accrued in one sitting. As it was, the glass was already on its way to her lips and wound up forcibly halted long enough for her to collect her composure, a mad scramble under the circumstances because she found herself inexplicably inclined to laugh out loud. It didn't take a degree in psychiatry to diagnose the sensation of instant camerarderie, nor was Evelyn the type to be overly swayed by it even if it did turn the tide of disapproval and discomfort somewhat in Gunnar's favour. It was still something, however, a slight mellowing that at least gave the man credit for knowing when to play his cards straight. The valiant purse of her lips did well at controlling a smile, though Evie did concede to lifting her eyebrows as she reapproached her sip with intentional ambiguity. "Yes."

Having some time ago gotten past the need for a controlled public persona (at least in the absence of serious triggers), Gunnar had no problem allowing a chuckle. "I'll take that as yes to both, but particularly the latter," he said, flashing a congenial smile. Fellow-feeling could go a long way. "Obviously I'm familiar with people trying to get me to be more overtly social. Though in my case, it's usually friends who knew me when I was more out-going. Not that," he tipped his head fractionally toward Kaelen, "out-going, but definitely more apt to let loose a bit and join in." If asked about the cause of the change, he'd answer honestly, he judged that it wasn't something to share when ice-breaking hadn't yet progressed to the point of cracks that would worry anyone about an icesheet's load-bearing capacity. "I get the impression though that Kaelen isn't a dear old friend? Or at least Burnie doesn't seem to know him well enough for him to have been with the crew for long."

Though not without her own curiosity, especially under the circumstances, Evelyn was not crass enough to push a point directly unless the situation warranted it. It certainly didn't hinder her restraint to have a certain Denobulan's lack of social graces held up as a stark contrast to be avoided at all cost but even a scientist's zeal for answers rarely prompted the doctor to play all her cards outright. Whatever Gunnar's reasons for reservation, they would remain a mild intrigue whilst there were more pressing matters to monopolise her ire.

"A recent recruit," she confirmed, each word plucked carefully from all available options. Not because of any overt desire to spare Kaelan's feelings, the evening hadn't really given Evie a lot of right to claim that level of concern, but perhaps because it suited her to maneuver her chess pieces thusly. "Gregnol's hiring process seems to have jammed stuck on favouring candidates with expired Starfleet ranks." A hitched eyebrow bought a moment for Gunnar to catch on, which came with some benefit of the doubt regarding his prior knowledge. Evelyn had almost decided these new guests were just a coincidental tangent, which reserved the bulk of her suspicions for their topic of choice. "We're amassing quite a monopoly at this rate."

"Ah. I imagined he was new, and I knew Gregnol was former Starfleet, so hiring fellow veterans isn't surprising. But..." Gunnar took another look at the man, then shook his head, "I would have bet he was an exception. So much for spotting us by bearing," he chuckled. Then looking back at her, lifted brows slightly. "Which goes for you as well if I take that correctly? I wasn't sure if I saw Starfleet bearing or upper class upbringing. Given your accent, would I be right now to guess both?"

And just like that, the conversation reached the natural impasse Evelyn had been anticipating since first taking up a seat at the same table as their visitors. There wasn't really an easy way to navigate personal disclosures, even those she would have preferred to keep to herself. She was an Academy graduate, she had served for multiple years and received several promotions. Even without the additional noise caused by the abrupt end of her career, it wouldn't have taken a curious investigator long to plug her name into the database and find some trace of her prior connections. Evelyn didn't doubt for a minute that her professional dossier was now locked down to a certain degree but she didn't hold out a lot of hope that Starfleet had erased everything. It meant that failing to mention it now would cause more alarm bells than any attempt to downplay her current situation on her own terms ever could.

Feeling suddenly very tired, Evie braced herself for the conversation by graciously accepting the easy lead-in. A dip of her head to confirm was followed by a measured, "Guilty as charged." An eyebrow quirked. "On both counts. At least one of them is responsible for my reputation as a cheesemonger."

Gunnar laughed. "It's not a bad reputation to have." It wasn't that he hadn't picked up on the switch to focusing on her civilian background. He'd served on two colonies now and such worlds tended to attract a decent portion of veterans among the settlers, most of whom on spotting someone in active duty would let their own status be known. Sometimes it was by stories and reminiscences of their own service, other times by grumbles about Starfleet and how glad they were to be out (as if looking for agreement from a current member), and sometimes it was just a bare note - laying down a marker to say they weren't clueless civvies and not to treat them like they were. Reynolds' drop of her status followed by immediately changing topic struck him as somewhat in the category of the latter, though he didn't think he'd given the impression of judging her competence in any way. Possibly she just wanted him to know she was more than a merchant ship doctor, and couldn't know that Divash's mentor had been such so he had nothing but respect for the role. But he decided to keep with the conversational topic she'd set. "The more human branch of T'Ango's family settled in Yorkshire and she's gotten some wonderful cheeses in care packages." He quirked a smile. "And as someone from a place where cows and sheep outnumber people, I think I have a decent palate for assessing the quality of cheese."

"I have no objection to cheese, though I don't share my father's entrepreneurial fascination with it." Decades of holidaying in 'cheese country' had provoked a semi-retirement plan to dabble on his own terms, and for a proficient physician now focused on educating the next generation of doctors rather than holding down his own practice, Evelyn understood her father's desire to do something to keep his mind active. It had been a relatively agreeable distraction given the tendency to result in cheese-laden care packages but the appeal had somewhat dampened now that it had caught the attention of someone arguably more fixated than her father was even capable of. "I ordinarily wouldn't have any cause to complain about the samples he chooses to send me but I'm not sure I signed up to be his brand ambassador."

"A hazard of sharing, I suppose," Gunnar replied. "I haven't had any such issues sharing my own care packages, but Kali's little sisters seem to have picked up my own fascination with horses. So much so that their parents imported some from my grandparents' farm." He smiled, the delivery had included one for him - a stallion he'd helped deliver as foal last time he'd been home. "Which I admit has worked out quite well for me. Other than the fact that my family now knows exactly who to contact if I don't report in regularly."

And just like that, the conversation folded back in on itself. Under ordinary circumstances, Evelyn would have been far more gracious about holding down her end of polite inquiry but probing the topics that intrigued her the most came with the loaded potential to backfire. Jack had often quipped she could have made a name for herself in Intelligence, though his remarks had typically been a veiled attempt to evade her questions by suggesting her interrogation technique was a little too robust. Eloquence wasn't the same as being subtle, apparently; Evelyn couldn't really afford to be too blunt in present company, however.

At least the musical interludes gave a decent excuse to limit spoken response. Evelyn watched with the detached bemusement of one who could not imagine ever being drunk enough to be so cavalier and winced only slightly when a moment of audio feedback added an unnecessary squeal to the soprano section. "The poor ship may be too old for this," she murmured, half concerned she might have wound up with a similar mindset without realising.

Gunnar sensed a hesitation, a cooling, and wondered how his attempt to respond to her reference to her father with something about his own family could have triggered that. But further thought was interrupted by squeal. He glanced at the stage and saw T'Ango's fold back in reaction, though it didn't seem be deterring her from continuing. So no reprieve from being dragged in later due to audio difficulties. He had just enough time to reply "Don't let Burnie hear you say that." before Kaelen somehow translated himself to the bar and launched onto counter, strutting and gyrating along it.

Was it possible to be torn between a horrified cringe and laughing out loud? Yes. Yes, apparently it was. He spread a hand across his face, covering whichever response his mouth might settle on, fingers splayed, allowing one eye to track the spectacle he couldn't quite refuse to see. As it ended, he could hear T'Ango and Burnie both giving in to helpless laughter - that being perhaps the only possible response to having sung back up to that show - but was nearly certain the doctor was leaning in the other direction with respect to reaction. "For whatever part my presence played in causing that, I apologize."

Having exerted a decent amount of effort into trying to mask her discomfort, with varying degrees of success that probably didn't actually qualify, Evelyn had finally reached a point that exposed her breaking point. Gone was the reservation, the carefully controlled composure, the measured choice of words that only served to exacerbate the sheer amount of awkwardness she was cultivating. By some definitions, she might have been accused of finally being impressed by Kaelan's antics, if absolute unmitigated horror counted as a form of high regard. This was what passed as a Starfleet-sanctioned diplomat these days? This self-indulgent, self-congratulatory, attention-seeking egoist who had already earned the distinction of being unable to hold a conversation that didn't involve an exorbitant amount of smug bravado?

This was the guy they'd sent to represent their best interests? This was their idea of a worthy advocate?

Starfleet was falling to pieces faster than Evelyn had realised.

"I'm not sure you're to blame," she murmured, her tone still holding the remnants of recovery from vacant shock. "Some catastrophes are difficult to avoid once they gain enough momentum."

There had to be cultures out there where Kaelen would be a good fit as an ambassador. However, despite extensive study of most Federation and allied cultures, or at least those aspects that could be used to best put patients at ease, Gunnar could not in fact think of any. Still, he was happy to hear the incident had not added to whatever displeasure he'd initially sensed from her. Or thought that he'd sensed; the prospect of the Trial had dredged up enough memory of being subject to captors who'd made him the target for every anger or frustration they had toward Starfleet that perhaps he was the one who'd been triggered by what was in the end a simply broadband foul mood that had been caused by someone else entirely. "Thank you. While that was ...something I'd prefer not to witness again... I'm relieved it's let me know I'm not the problem here," he said as Kaelen jumped off the bar and returned to the stage, then glanced up at her with a half-smile. "I confess, when we first met, I felt as though I'd triggered or offended you somehow, so I came over to try to work out if that was so, and if I had, apologize."

Whilst a direct appeal left fewer options for retreat, Evelyn wasn't immediately inclined to view the observation as an intrusion. There was plenty she wasn't prepared to explain but an opportunity to compartmentalise was right up her alley and, this way, there was some semblance of regained control in being able to determine how others perceived her situation. It probably wouldn't last if Gunnar ever went back and chose to look her up but, by then, Evelyn wouldn't have to sit in the same room as him and his follow-up questions. There was still a pause before she replied, the cautious and measured deliberation she'd shown all night now a lot more front and centre as she studied the man's expression and then dipped her head to the side to quietly concede he wasn't entirely off the mark.

A belted lyric interrupted long enough for the doctor to wince at a point proven before she'd even had a chance to voice it.

"I have an increasingly complicated relationship with Starfleet," she explained, a stray dagger sent towards the current performance indicating at least one of the more obvious culprits behind that struggle. "That's hardly an excuse for poor manners, however, so..." Evie paused to acclimatise herself to humility before succumbing to it. "I apologise. For the time being, I'm choosing to trust that you're as much a unwitting victim of their diplomatic redeployment as the rest of us."

She thought I was some sort of Starfleet spy or provocateur? Years ago the thought would have carried enough surprised incongruity that he might have had to stifle a laugh. Now however it came with a flashed memory of 'Starfleet' growled with anger and contempt as pain stick was applied. Gunnar closed his eyes a moment, taking a deliberate breath as he pushed that aside, taking refuge in analysis. Given the deep mind probe he'd been forced to endure after escaping his captors, largely because of one internal affairs agent's vendetta, he could understand how someone might become paranoid about the organization. "No offense taken. Though I chose to remain in service, my own history with Starfleet is ...not uncomplicated. 'Unwitting victim' may be one of my recurring roles in fact," he added wryly.

In the way that accidental selfishness eventually caught up to the momentarily-unaware, Evelyn's hesitation took a turn for the mildly surprised. It wasn't an overstated epiphany; by now it seemed unlikely the doctor ever wore her emotions close to the surface, but it did involve a shift in posture that became marginally less closed. She was, of course, now part of a crew littered with Starfleet's discarded second-thoughts and it occurred to her, a little later than pride would have preferred, that Burnie was probably more likely to associate with those at least sympathetic to what service could cost a person than anyone inclined to dismiss the potential for disillusionment. It was another aspect of her nervous system's tendency to react without her permission that caused Evelyn grief; too often it felt like she was slower to arrive at perfectly logical explanations than she would have liked.

"Well, I'm sorry we haven't been particularly helpful in providing a better alternative." This time, her wince was slightly more overstated, as emotion was wont to be when relief encouraged exaggeration to make up for previous lost ground. "I never thought I'd be so inclined to crave professional conduct standards."

The shift wasn't lost on Gunnar. For all that he was saddened to think the simple fact of keeping his commission had been the cause of distress, he was relieved to know that it was only that and that perhaps the air had cleared. "I'm told that under certain stressors, I tend to retreat into professionalism and efficiency. To a degree where my shifts 'run like clockwork - Very Tightly Wound clockwork' as my counselor put it," he said by way of sympathy and accepting apology.

"And there's no need to be sorry. I'm not looking for an alternative. I could have taken a medical discharge; indeed, one was nearly forced on me, but I chose to remain. Perhaps it's just that I'm stubborn - any number of my friends would cosign that diagnosis - and I admit there is an aspect of feeling that resigning would be ...letting the bastards win. More than that though, despite the ...issues with certain branches... and the bureaucratic stupidity and political calculations often apparent in upper levels of command, there have been far more experiences of the people I've directly served with exemplifying the ideals that first drew me to Starfleet. One of them saved an entire planet, possibly a whole system," he tipped his head toward Burnie, who was grinning as he hopped to left. Despite the 'dear gods, why?' that came with recognizing the song, he couldn't help but smile at how far his friend had come from that time. "At great personal cost, and I was privileged to be on the medical team that saved him. I'm not ready to give that up." Then, having picked up on the intent underlying the song selection, he swallowed the last of his drink. "Despite that fact that he's singing 'Time Warp' with T'Ango, which means I'm about to get dragged into participation."

Every defensive bone in Evelyn's body coiled with anticipatory rebuttal. Whilst Gunnar lamented the intrusion of his imminent departure, she realised just in time that it was a necessary interruption to preserve what brittle peace remained. Still stinging from the imagined implication that her own decision now classified as defeat and that she had somehow burdened those closest to her with her absence, Evelyn offered a thin-lipped smile and took the invitation to finish her juice in one final swallow. "Given what we've just been subjected to, I should think you'll be owed a hero's bounty for diverting the night's entertainment. I'm going to take the opportunity to head back to work." Setting her glass down, the doctor made good with the assertion and gave her abandoned stool a resolute push with her foot to move it back beneath the bar. Casting a final glance towards the stage, she then offered Gunnar a parting, "Good luck. If you get desperate, there's always Kaelan's imaginary food poisoning conspiracy to lean into."

Gunnar read what was behind that tight smile and cursed himself for not adding some aside to make clear he meant no judgement of her own choices, or anyone else's, in deciding to leave. Normally he might have had thought more carefully on how his words might be received, but he'd been thrown, triggered in fact, by realizing that what he'd sensed from her stemmed from hatred of Starfleet; and so his response had been unconsidered self-disclosure, borderline confession. However, there was nothing to be done for it in his, or if he judged rightly, her, current state of mind. Still, he felt some bit of relief at having cleared the air, if in only clarifying the issue - it had resolved things at least in the sense that he was probably no longer a trigger for her, and any dislike she now felt toward him was owing to his own blunt confession of choices to remain in service. It wasn't ideal, but it was acceptable. He wouldn't be here long, and any future meeting to catch up with Burnie wouldn't require interaction more than a nod or surface pleasantry. Moving beyond that would probably require the kind of working-together-by-necessity that he sincerely hoped neither of them would face. So, he simply nodded, offering a small smile at the joking suggestion. "I'll keep that mind."