(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7dd1oHkY31rargk6o1_500.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Ilya G. Faustin<br/><strong>Location:</strong>USS Georgetown, outside the Infirmary<br/><strong>Addressing:</strong>Samantha Jamieson<br/><hr/>Ilya scrambled to gather up the papers and stood up. His frown changed to a smile, to a confused raised brow and back to a frown again in a few seconds. She sounded like she was giving a lecture, rather mechanical. That she was giving a lecture on the nature of his medical journal just served to put him a little on edge. Why was she reading up on him? And the comment about the Russian records just served to further narrow his eyes in suspicion. Then he realized it might just be a coincident. He gave an awkward smile when he realized she was waiting for him to hand her the files.<br/><br/>"I... yes, here you go." He handed them over and looked around. No one seemed to take notice of their little scene. "I was heading down to get my routine check-up. I just spent three hours past the recommended flight length in vacuum. Well, in an aeroplane. Clots and all that..."<br/><br/>He stopped and gave a little sigh as he tried to compose himself. He was rambling. That was no good. He might slip up. "Dr Jamieson, was it?" He took her hand in a firm grasp and shook it. He still had his leather gloves on, which was a little rude of him. Perhaps that was just a Russian thing. "I'm just a little exhausted from the flight here, not really making any sense..."