"What's that you're eating?"
A pause.
"Oh, this? It's a sandwich."
"... sand. Which. What's it got to do with sand?"
"Nothing."
"Where does the sand factor in?"
"Nowhere."
"Is it crunchy like sand?"
"... not really."
"Is it... is it a part of the food?"
"No, it's... flour."
"That's kind of a sand, right?"
"... no, not really."
"Well, it was worth a shot."
Dr. Hennessey let out a laugh through her nose as she shook her head. "Very funny," she drawled back brightly, rolling her eyes upward as she leaned back straight up from the open doorframe, turning around to walk to the small clean counter inside the kitchenette unit. With a quick roll of a nearby vibroknife, she easily sliced the little rectangle of bread in half and stuck part back into the food storage unit before rubbing her hands together and striding back out into the main room.
The doctor had made it a point to keep things light in the clinic during her shifts. Dr. Valova took care to run a smooth operation in the Armando Bailey's medical bay, but if he was displeased with her relatively soft-handed approach at receiving intakes, then he would have vocalized his disapproval long, long ago. Besides, it was often difficult for other medical officers on shift to find someone to give quick breaks to do simple things, like eat something, or watch the desk for five minutes to catch up on filing post-treatment reports on the designated terminal... and, of course it was the one in the second chamber inside the facility. And if there was one thing that Dr. Valova was surely firm about, it was that eyes were on the front desk at all times when not treating a patient.
The small brunette offered the quarter section of the sandwich to the turian sergeant who'd volunteered to give her a ten-minute break. "Here. If it contained anything deadly to you, I wouldn't have it here in the clinic. Want to try it?"
The gray avian beak-like mouth turned up with a laugh. "Oh. Well, fine." He stood, towering over Dr. Hennessey as he accepted the "new" food. "Why do you make this when there are perfectly good rations out there?"
"Sometimes I like doing things the old way," she sighed quietly with a grin and a shrug. The truth was, she rather liked them. Rations sometimes made her sick to her stomach, anyhow. "Besides. Maybe you'll like it."
The turian laughed a little before stepping respectably around the side of the desk and toward the front entrance of the clinic, pulling his clutched hand up to his mouth to chew exploratively. Dr. Hennessey smiled as she smoothed the front of her white tunic and settled down in her chair, then cupped her hands beneath a sanitizing dispenser before settling down in her light ergonomic chair. "Hmm," the sergeant grumbled through his closed mandibles as they mulled over the small bite. "It's... what is this? Pudding?"
"Turkey, actually," Dr. Hennessey corrected gently.
The turian laughed again. "I don't know a thing about human food," he scoffed self-deprecatively.
"Well, the two aren't often confused," she answered sweetly. She smiled, then nodded gratefully. "Thank you for your assistance, Sergeant," she politely acknowledged. "It's helpful to have breaks."
The alien saluted respectfully. "Of course, Ma'am," he responded before he turned about on his heels to exit.
... until the intercom toned out a warning.
"ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP! ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP! FALL BACK TO THE FRIGATE."
The tones and bells continued to ring out jarringly. "Dammit," the turian zapped out bitterly before nodding his head at the doctor. "Ma'am, you'll have to grab your kit. Follow me," he ordered politely, making a mad dash to continue toward the doorway.
Dr. Hennessey promptly stood and grabbed her pack, cringing as she thought of the scant personal belongings left in her cabin, but felt a moment's relief when she remembered--her most valuable item was always in her bag. She couldn't think of that now, anyhow.
"Come on!" the marine barked, prompting her to give the desk one last look-over before she reached down to clutch her worn leather surgeon's pack, slinging it over her white-sleeved arm and taking off toward the door. Before disappearing through it, she took one last look at the row of metal beds behind the semi-opaque partition behind the desk, eyeing what had been a first good clinic to work in during her career. Fighting back a tear of nostalgia--despite the fact that she was trained to understand that moments like this could happen anytime--she slapped the illuminary panel and let the room go dark before bolting after the turian.