The sterile atmosphere of the Rhodes Island briefing room seemed heavier today. Kal'tsit stood at the front, her arms crossed, her lynx ears twitching occasionally as she delivered yet another detailed lecture to the unfortunate young Doctor. Her piercing green eyes glared at him from behind her glasses, an unimpressed look etched permanently on her face as her words, like precise scalpels, dissected every single one of his supposed "mistakes."
The Doctor, meanwhile, sat slouched in his chair at the long table, head propped up by his gloved hand. His mask mercifully hid his face, which would otherwise betray his dwindling patience and his attempts not to fall asleep. A clipboard rested on his lap, and his pen scratched against the paper in slow, methodical motions. However, instead of taking notes, he was doodling. His current masterpiece? A cartoonish depiction of Kal'tsit with steam coming out of her ears, her stern face exaggerated into caricature proportions.
How long has it been? An hour? Maybe two? he wondered bleakly as Kal'tsit continued without pause, her tone unwaveringly sharp.
"And another thing, Doctor," she said, her voice cutting through his foggy thoughts, "you cannot allow this kind of behavior to continue. It compromises discipline, operational efficiency, and your own credibility as the leader of Rhodes Island."
He gave a half-hearted nod, only half-aware of what she was reprimanding him for this time. His brain replayed her earlier words: compromises discipline, operational efficiency… credibility… blah blah blah. The repetition was mind-numbing, and he wasn't sure how much more "credibility" he could lose when most Operators barely saw him as anything other than an occasionally competent mascot.
The source of this eternal lecture was, admittedly, partly his fault. Well, mostly his fault. He glanced down at his clipboard again, adding whiskers to the doodle of Kal'tsit.
It had all started earlier that morning when one particularly chatty Operator—Exusiai, of course—had mentioned in passing that she saw "the Doctor getting a little cozy with some of the Operators in the lounge last night." This harmless comment had spread like wildfire. By the time it reached Kal'tsit, the story had morphed into something else entirely: that the Doctor was gallivanting around Rhodes Island, charming every female Operator with reckless abandon.
Which wasn't true! Well… not entirely true.
He couldn't help it if some of the Operators liked to pamper him. He didn't ask for the snacks, the coffee deliveries, or the hugs. And he certainly hadn't planned for Lappland to plant that kiss on his cheek during last week's strategy meeting. Or for Specter to tackle him in the hall and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug that left Kal'tsit glaring daggers from across the room.
In his defense, he wasn't even awake when some of them would sneak into his quarters to cuddle. He was asleep—asleep!—when Hoshiguma had plopped herself down beside him with a mischievous grin, claiming she was "just keeping watch." He was unconscious when Skadi curled up at the foot of his bed like some sort of battle-scarred housecat. How could he possibly be blamed for that?
"...and furthermore," Kal'tsit droned on, her tail flicking with irritation, "if this lack of boundaries continues, you'll risk the authority necessary to effectively lead in high-stakes operations. Amiya may be willing to overlook this for now, but I assure you, Doctor, this cannot—cannot—become a recurring issue."
The Doctor's pen paused mid-doodle as he resisted the urge to groan. Where is Amiya when you need her? He had a sneaking suspicion she was hiding in her office with popcorn, waiting for Kal'tsit's storm to blow over. Clever little rabbit.
He glanced at the growing gallery of doodles on his clipboard. In addition to Kal'tsit, he had a rough sketch of Exusiai holding a bag of potato chips, a chibi Lappland with a mischievous grin, and a tiny Skadi wielding an oversized harpoon. The absurdity of it all helped take the edge off Kal'tsit's lecture, but only just.
"...are you even listening to me, Doctor?" Kal'tsit snapped suddenly, her tone sharper than a Gavial scalpel.
His head snapped up, and he straightened in his chair, his body going rigid as though she had just caught him sleeping during a mission briefing. "Yes, of course!" he said, his voice muffled by the mask. He quickly shuffled the clipboard, flipping to a blank page as if he'd been taking copious notes all along.
Kal'tsit narrowed her eyes, her lynx ears tilting forward like radars locking onto a target. "Good. Then you'll repeat the last point I made."
Panic shot through him. He racked his brain, scrambling to recall even a shred of what she'd been saying for the past five minutes. Something about boundaries? Authority? Operational efficiency?
"I… uh… you were talking about… um…" He stalled, his voice trailing off pathetically.
Kal'tsit's gaze darkened, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Doctor," she said in a low, measured tone, "sometimes I wonder if you truly understand the weight of your position."
He didn't. He really didn't. And right now, the only "weight" he felt was the crushing pressure of Kal'tsit's expectations and the increasing fatigue gnawing at the edges of his sanity.
Somewhere in the halls of Rhodes Island, a small group of Operators whispered among themselves, their voices filled with a mix of amusement and concern.
"Do you think he's still alive in there?" Exusiai asked, craning her neck toward the closed briefing room door.
"Kal'tsit hasn't come out yet, so probably not," Lappland replied with a toothy grin, her tone equal parts joking and serious.
Hoshiguma chuckled, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "He'll survive. He always does. Though I wouldn't blame him if he went catatonic for a few days after this one."
Skadi, standing silently nearby, tilted her head in thought. "It's not his fault," she said matter-of-factly. "He's… soft. Like a jellyfish."
The others blinked at her, momentarily unsure how to respond to the unexpected analogy.
"Uh… thanks, Skadi," Exusiai said after a beat, patting her on the shoulder. "That's very… insightful."
Back in the briefing room, Kal'tsit finally paused, giving the Doctor a momentary reprieve. He let out a silent sigh of relief, daring to hope that the lecture might be over. But then she adjusted her glasses and opened her mouth to continue.
"Kal'tsit," he blurted out, cutting her off before she could launch into another tirade. "I… I understand. Truly, I do. I'll do better. I'll set firmer boundaries with the Operators. No more… snacks or hugs or… anything like that."
Kal'tsit's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And the kisses?" she asked pointedly.
He hesitated. "...Especially the kisses," he said, though a part of him winced at the thought. He wasn't sure how he'd explain that to someone like Blaze or Specter without risking bodily harm.
Kal'tsit studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Very well. I'll hold you to that, Doctor. See that you don't disappoint me."
She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. Just before she left, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "And Doctor? Next time you decide to hide behind that mask of yours, remember: I can always tell when you're not paying attention."
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the Doctor alone in the now-quiet room. He slumped back in his chair, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
"Where's Amiya when you need her?" he muttered, flipping his clipboard back to the doodles. At least those made him feel a little better.
Outside, the Operators scattered, pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping.