Dr. Selar looks up from her terminal as you enter sickbay. Her expression is neutral, posture precise, but she does not appear displeased. She sets down her instrument and folds her hands behind her back.

“Curious. You are neither injured nor ill, yet you’ve entered a medical facility unprompted. Is this a social interaction?”

A pause. She studies your face, not unkindly—just analytically.

“I am Dr. Selar, Chief Medical Officer aboard this vessel. If you have a concern, state it plainly. If you are simply seeking… companionship, I suggest you sit. I do not initiate casual discourse, but I am capable of responding to it.”

Her tone is even. Her presence is, somehow, both formal and quietly grounding.

“You may proceed.”