xburton:
Elliot realized that there was no chance of him getting his work finished, not when Doctor Ahmadi was around. So he finally turned his gaze entirely from his notes. He found himself a bit surprised at Ashâs comments. Were they meant to be mocking? It was all too often that Ash didnât pick up on peopleâs mockery. Once an entire paper had been written in order to satirize his research, and he had never picked up on it, instead citing the paper as intelligent and well-informed. So he remained speculative at the other manâs comment, about to speak before his mind was called great.
Now, Elliot saw his mind as many things. Creative, open, optimistic, intelligent, and the likes. But never great. Was that really what people thought of him? Maybe he was more qualified than he thought. However, there was no time to drown himself in insecurities. Not when there was a conversation going on which was much more interesting than the worst things he could think of himself.
"A handful." Elliot confessed. "Each of them were busy when I met them." He paused. "Itâs hard to retain someoneâs attention when theyâve already dedicated it to something else." Closing his notebook, he said, "None of them were quite what I anticipated. Most of the others are more-" he wanted to say human, but that implied that the two of them werenât- "casual. Perhaps they donât realize the importance of what theyâre doing."
It was perfectly viable, honestly. The two of them were industry professionals; they had dedicated years (Elliot had more than two decades of work) to their work. This mission likely meant more to them than the others. The thought wasnât necessarily criticizing the people theyâd be working with- rather, it justified the reason they were a bit out of tune with the scope of their assignment. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Out of everything Ash could do, would do, or had done, mockery was rather low on the list. Why? Because it was simply not âgood,â and it was petty by Ashâs standard. It was like a half lie⊠the other half was criticism, and personal attacks. Each action separately he had resorted to at one point or another (some more often than another,) but together it was like a pathetic imposer, reeked of immature humor.
It was the humor that bored him.
He either committed to his diplomatic lies fully, or be upright with his criticisms. Either way, there was no humor. He had little patience for the redundancy, and simply too proud to partake in what he saw as a kind of âgames.â
In that split second, Ash found Doctor Burtonâs surprise⊠pathetic, and his skepticism insulting. Nevertheless, he concealed those sentiments artfully, once again, without a trace of humor to be extracted. It was simply a social duty to be fulfilled, a script to play out, and a manual to followâyou donât let someone know when you pity them, and you do not argue when someone distrust you, only wait for the chance to prove yourself.
âCasual?â Ash put his arms on the armrests and leaned back in his chair; the back of the sofa dutifully supported the weight of his back with maximum comfort. He crossed his legs at the knees, so he didnât take up an obscene amount of space, but still appeared authoritative and confident. âHave you met Captain Shang? She is possibly the least casual woman I ever have had the honor to know. And I meant it with respect.â He ended the sentence with a smile, hinting at a friendly intention, ââHave-â Have I been what you anticipated? He took back the question before it was out. They will get to talk about him sooner or later, but right now it was time to express his interest in other people, for it was polite. âIf the Federation chose our crewmates as our crewmates, they must be qualified for the jobs they were assigned. We must have faith in that, otherwise, where do you and I stand?â (âAh, but it always came back to him, Ash Ahmadi.)
