Henry the 8th

Ringo nearly shrieked when he found himself INSIDE Brisk's quarters.  He had stayed in the hall outside, monitoring her with a medical tricorder.  He nearly shrieked again when Eve rolled at him like a storm cloud, full of dark intent.  The question of how he got in here took a backseat as Eve whirled and collapsed shy of reaching him, muttering "No, not now..."

That really got Ringo shaking in his shoes.  If this was it... and he was here... if she picked him out of desperation... and he had to go THREE DAYS nonstop...  No, no, he wasn't ready.  He wasn't ready.  Imagining the raw pain hurt almost as much as the real deal inevitably would.  A ditty popped into Ringo's head unbidden: Henry the 8th I am, I am, Henry the 8th I am...  Henry the Eighth supposedly had that kind of endurance.  He wasn't Henry the 8th.  Henry the 8th I ain't, I ain't, Henry the 8th I ain't...

He slapped his com-badge: "Doctor Brisk come to your quarters!  Now now now!"

His feet wanted to beat carpet like twenty Remans were after him.  But he wouldn't leave Eve.  Hey, 'leave Eve'... it rhymed.  A quantum-flux-facilitated mental emanation from that new ensign, Patty something or other, maybe?  Rann stood nearby, looking on in concern.  Ringo eyed Rann.  Both ensigns, so Ringo really had no place ordering hir around – but if this went down now, it wouldn't be a pretty sight... and he didn't want Eve visible when so vulnerable.  He knew she wouldn't want it either.

"Rann, take a hike.  Go.  Out.  ¡Vámonos.  I'll explain why later."  He hoped the authority of the order would effect compliance.