Alain drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, tapping out some sort of soft, haphazard rhythm as his eyes danced across the pages of his book. It seemed as if things would never quiet down, what with the commotion earlier. Not thirty minutes ago, his medbay was full of groans and complaints that this or that was hurting or they weren't feeling the best. In his eyes though, if they were going to complain so much about the pain, then they shouldn't have acted like targets on legs. Turning your back on an enemy vessel... How absurd. Luckily, though, local anesthesia had relaxed them enough to where most of them were nodding off, and those who weren't were working on it.<br/><br/>The offhand drumming calm to a subtle stop as one hand slid over a stretch of desk until they were met with the smooth feel of glass. Alain picked up his wine glass, idly twirling it as he propped his arm up on his elbow and turning the page of his book with his other hand. Just as he was raising the glass to his lips, the familiar -<span style="font-style: italic">too</span>familiar, at that - buzz of his comlink sounded, jolting Alain from his thoughts.<br/><br/>"Doc? Doc, you there?"<br/><br/>With an agitated<span style="font-style: italic">tsk</span>, Alain set down his glass and grabbed his comlink from where it sat on the corner of his desk. He took a deep, slow breath before pressing the button. "Yeah, I'm here," he acknowledged, sliding his bookmark into place from where it had been laying abandoned on the desk. "Why? What's up?"<br/><br/>---<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">'Cap'n's got a couple prisoners. Stowaways. Says he wants you to take a look at 'em.'</span><br/><br/>The dull thud of shoes against the cold, drab floor of the<span style="font-style: italic">Scarlet's</span>hallway were even and fast-paced as Alain made his way, unbuttoned lab coat trailing behind him as he moved and that crewman's words replaying in his mind. Prisoners? Nevermind the fact that they actually managed to sneak aboard, but now Captain wanted him to treat them? Not that he had ever doubted the Captain's orders before, but it was so unusual, for lack of a better word. Why treat a stowaway? He'd seen men tossed out through the airlock for less.<br/><br/>The echoing of footsteps slowed and inevitably stopped, and Alain found himself facing the door to his destination. With a deep breath and an even deeper exhale, Alain straightened out his coat and tucked his hair neatly back into place and sorted out his appearance. Tightening his grip on his medical case, the doctor stepped forward and knocked on the door and, after a moment's wait, entered when he heard the sound of acknowledgement on the other side and softly closed it behind him.<br/><br/>The Captain stood to the side, as cold and unmoving as he'd ever been, but something was obviously on his mind. And, if Alain had to render a guess, he'd say it had a lot to do with the woman sitting on the chair.<br/><br/>After nodding his head politely to his boss, Alain fixed on the prisoner and extended his hand. "Dr. Alain Blair," he introduced. "I'm assuming I was called about you. What seems to be the problem?"