If there is one thing Douglas Phillips has never had a problem with, it's being pursued by too many girls.
It wasn't so strange in grammar school, of course; he was a lanky, unattractive boy, always hidden behind a book, so much that no one really knew what his face looked like, and besides, all the girls who went after someone went after Frank Lawson.
In high school he slowly came out of his shell, breaking the wall built around himself bit by bit as he became more extroverted, signing up for the swim team and finally hanging out with people his own age. A few girls flirted, and he had fun with them, but it was nothing serious.
In college he excelled in his classes, also participating in a host of extracurricular activities. He met plenty of girls that way, and even dated a few.
But there was one thing during his romantic career that always sent girls fleeing, complaining about his boorish and insensitive cloddishness.
He was no boorish clod, of course. He just lacked and seemed unable to learn one skill, and that was how to comfort a crying woman.
He was of sturdy build, a human pillar, and he supposed that was why girls cried on his shoulder: he couldn't be swayed.
But their tears bewildered him beyond belief; he had no idea how to ask what was wrong, how to stop the tears, whether to push them away. He'd offer them his handkerchief, but other than that he was clueless.
It was this "vice" of his that repelled girls, so that by the end of college he knew no members of the opposite sex and was back in his shell.
###
When Ann comes to Tic Toc, before Tony but after him, she strikes him as aloof, to say the least, and very independent. Sitting beside her, it seems she is almost emotionless, eerily placid. But he has absolutely no problem with that; she's an intelligent woman, an asset to the project, and whether or not she is Vulcan-like or a social beast is of no concern to him.
Still, it catches him off guard when she comes dashing into the control room one day and buries her tear-stained face in his shoulder, sobbing for the life of her.
Neither Ray nor General Kirk seems to know what's wrong, and Doug certainly doesn't. All he knows is that he's become the pillar of his high school and college days once again.
Pulling her into his lap, he digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to her; she accepts it gratefully, using it to plug the tears before they even have a chance to exit their ducts. Finally she blows her nose and lets the corners of her mouth turn up as she places the piece of cloth on the control panel, obviously shy about handing it back to him
"Thank you Dou—Dr. Phillips." She says, carefully controlling her voice as she shakily rises from his lap. "I needed that."
He gives her a rare smile.
"Anytime."
###
Later, when Ann is on a coffee break, Ray approaches the station the younger scientist is manning and puts a hand on his shoulder.
"You handled poor Ann like a real pro, Doug. My hat goes off to you."
He allows another smile—the second today—to creep onto his lips.
"All in a day's work, Dr. Swain."