I feel the scene only gets better with the reply...
((So’Mior’s Quarters, USS Constitution))
As First Officer he, together with other senior officers, had a certain responsibility for the wellbeing of the crew. As a Counsellor he had a marked responsibility for the mental health of the crew. And as a Vulcan, he had a preference for at least offering to assist one whom, he judged, was facing some of the trials that he himself had faced when he joined Starfleet, along with a few that were uniquely So’Mior’s.
Regrettably he’d had other duties to discharge before he could make a personal call, but having confirmed with the computer that the Ensign was in his quarters, Saveron was finally able to key the door buzzer.
Saveron: Sochya, Ensign So’Mior. May I join you?
He favoured the younger man with the ta’al, the traditional Vulcan gesture of greeting, grey eyes taking in the neat, spare quarters, the calming, meditative set up, and the dishevelled young man crouched over a broken cup.
So’Mior: Commander, greetings. Please, come in. Sit?
Bowing slightly in polite acknowledgement, Saveron stepped inside and let the doors hiss closed behind him, settling cross-legged onto the carpet, Vulcan style, in response to the invitation, making no show of noticing the way in with So’Mior struggled to gather all the pieces of the shattered cup. As a male Vulcan, Saveron didn’t have much of a sense of smell, but he could smell the tang of the calmative Mika from the wet patch on the carpet.
All the subtle signs pointed to a mind ill-at-ease. To the older Vulcan it confirmed the reasons for his visit, and his preference that he might be able to offer some form of assistance.
Saveron: Did I interrupt your meditations? ::He asked, as solicitous as a Vulcan could be.::
So’Mior: I was startled. ::He stated it as honestly as possible. Not ‘you startled me’ – there was no reason to find anger nor fault in a doorchime. No, the fault – and the fault lines – were drawn within him.:: It will mend.
He placed the pieces in the recycler and watched them fade into raw materials. Saveron watched So’Mior watching the reclamation, before cutting straight to the reason for his visit.
Saveron: I am acutely aware of the trauma which you experienced during the last mission. ::He’d touched the young man’s mind, felt it for himself.:: I came to enquire as to your wellbeing, in your current state.
Slowly So’Mior turned towards the first officer, and his expression was lost and searching, oddly vulnerable on features one expected to be expressionless. It emphasised his youth. Saveron would not interfere where he was not welcome, but he recognised the paternal, protective instinct in his own natural response.
So’Mior: I… I don’t know.
Those words were an admission, even a plea for help, if it could be offered in a way that might be acceptable.
Saveron: Then you are not well? ::He asked gently.::
Finally So’Mior moved himself from his lean by the recycler to a chair, which he sank down into with a steady exhausted bonelessness. The observation of the younger man’s use of human furniture was filed away as Saveron focused on the verbal and non-verbal signals he was giving.
So’Mior: I can’t… I can’t process it. I can’t find calm. I try and I feel like I’m drowning.
His voice became hoarse, evidence of emotional control cracking, together with his expression. Saveron was appreciative of his choice to visit.
Saveron: That would be deeply troubling. ::He acknowledged, validating what So’Mior was feeling.:: As a Counsellor, and a Vulcan, oO and a father Oo I would assist as I may, if you would not object.
Despite their disparate levels with their differing choice of furniture, Saveron stayed where he was, sitting on the floor. It was a very non-threatening position, and one associated with the calm of meditation.
Saveron: I have read your file, and am aware of your mixed heritage. As I do not doubt you are aware that my psychology qualification is through Starfleet.
Not Vulcan. Which made a huge difference. Trained in the psychology of multiple species, and multi-species individuals. Which was important. Because So’Mior was, he’d learned, part Human. And he was very young. Too young by Vulcan standards, but that only meant that he needed support. He was here, now, and that was what mattered.
The older Vulcan gave that slow, thoughtful nod again. There were multiple issues here. In some ways Saveron felt that Shael had only had such an effect on So’Mior because the young man already had some significant insecurities, rooted deep beneath his mental discipline. And that wasn’t the strictest either, else he’d have been able to ward her off. But it didn’t have to be.
One of the faults of their kind was being unsympathetic to those who chose paths other than what was upheld as preferable by certain groups. Saveron had little patience for such views.
Saveron: It is not simple. ::He agreed.:: Else you would have resolved it. But I believe that resolution is not impossible.
He said this with the surety of one who had viewed the damage first-hand.