"Captain's Log, Stardate 46689.7 The Enterprise is currently on route to starbase Deep Space Four at the edge of the Cardassian neutral zone. Due to its overall systems failure we have put in tow the USS Copernicus. Starfleet also has given precise orders not to investigate on the cause of the breakdown. We were able to retrieve the Copernicus' crew on arrival. Six officers turned out dead on arrival, Captain DeCandido among them, and four are in a critical state. Dr Selar has progressed to experimental treatment of the remaining twenty-eight officer's injuries, and informs me that the intervention has potential to become a state-of-the-art procedure."

Picard mustered a considerable effort of his self-discipline not to add any premature judgement or feelings to his entry. Saving them for a later time and his personal records deemed an appropriate placement for them, Picard cut himself familiar sound of the doorbell apparently confirmed his decision.

"Come."

The doors slid apart to reveal the Counselor with an all too familiar facial expression, the one she chose to engage in noncommittal, at first open conversations. She did not speak before the doors had shut behind her, another sign of ulterior motives.

"Do you have a minute, Captain?"

"Yes, Counselor. Please take a seat." His move toward the chair was swift, his mimics friendly. Yet he dealt with an empath, so his reservations must have been clear to her as if he had been yelling.

"I hear you had another brush with the Borg."

"A brush, yes." He forced himself to smile.

"So naturally I wonder", Troi went on, a close look on him, "I wonder if there's something you want to talk about."

"I appreciate your concern", he pulled of his standard phrasing of declining her offer, "But it wasn't more than a brush. Nothing beyond an input to my senses, an expression without words." By now he knew she quickly fell for metaphors, but the image he tried to build failed its purpose. He would have to make her term serve as an anchor for his stirring of the conversations' wheel.

"There's a difference between applying maquillage or encountering a wire brush. One emphasizes your features, the other cuts your skin and leaves you bleeding", she fought for her lost cause.

Is that a tailored approach for a heterosexual man?, he caught himself wondering, or a standard reference to cultural practice?

"Counselor, I am aware that the encounter with Hugh smashed several of my assumptions about the Borg, and certainly I harbour some more and am unconscious of it", he took the wind from her hastily set sails. As much as he appreciated her support at the negotiation table, when she figured out what the unfamiliar expression from the other party's delegate meant, she could be unnerving in times he felt a wish to sort things out for himself. "But applying advanced technology from a foreign species", he mustered considerable self-discipline not to say 'hostile', "Is merely the result of conscientious analytic efforts as part of scientific process. And exploiting their technology to cure one of our officers seems a damn fine integration into my values, believes and identity."

She knew from previous encounters that he would utilize the privileges of his role to govern an intersubjective process, and rose voluntarily this time. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I most certainly will."

"Any time."

"Thank you, Counselor." Dismissing her formally might lead her to think she touched a nerve, so he forced himself to wait patiently for her leave. He wondered if she, as a crewmember, needed a sign of reassurance, some words on him staying in touch via distinctive communication, but quickly tossed his musings overboard.

Starfleet officers at her rank respected his position. After all, I am the Captain of this ship.