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He'd Have Pointed Ears

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You know, at that point, I wasn't sure Doctor Phlox really had my best interests at heart. That was the third time just in that one day I had to consciously plant my ass back in my command chair. And it wasn't the first day I had to do it, either. I would start off thinking about whatever the ship's situation at hand ones, and the next minute, mind would just start to wander; if I got up, I'd find myself unconsciously gravitating over to the port side of the bridge. Then, when I "became aware of it", in the good doctor's words, I had no idea what to do with myself and couldn't come up with any decent excuse as to why I was there. I was hovering, and awkwardly. Even though I was technically aware of it, I'd kept putting off thinking it through, assuming my problem would eventually recede on its own. But my subconscious didn't agree with that. To be honest, my behavior must have looked at least a little unhinged.

And that's what the whole thing turned out to be: insanity, however well-intentioned at every step. It may have all ended up working out in the end, but not how anyone would have expected it to.