"There, Hrask," Christine began (and she always made a point to pronounce his name as correctly as she was able). "We're all done." Without entirely thinking about it, the nurse bent to kiss the tip of the Gorn's snout. "I told you that the physical wouldn't be so bad, didn't I?"
Unaccustomed to the concept of a physical, Hrask was understandably hesitant about it. The Gorn sought medical attention when they were ill, and preventative medicine existed, but for the most part it was a voluntary thing within their own ranks. Within Starfleet, it was different; humans, with their squishier and more vulnerable bodies, required much more monitoring to stay fit, and they required this monitoring of all crewmen. Thanks to Hrask’s robust health, aside from various injuries, he had limited experiences with human medical care, and he was still a bit shaken from his first encounter. At first, he was merely relieved that Dr. McCoy wasn’t giving him this physical, but it turned out that he was grateful that Christine was the one who was in charge. She was confident in an unusual way. Still soft, still gentle, but she knew her way around medicine and she seemed conscious of everything. It made the entire experience quite close to relaxing. “I-” His dewlap twitched in alarm, the scales of his face shifting as his spiked brows raised up. “It could have been much worse,” he admitted, touching the spot on his muzzle. “The Gorn do not regularly seek medical attention when we do not need it; I was unsure what to expect.”
