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Deli's trip her quarters (or else to find out the measurements of the ship - she'd forgotten which she'd intended to do first) had been forestalled, first by an urgent and frustrating need to remember all of the words from 'One Night In Bangkok', then by the subsequent distraction, in the form of wondering aloud whether she had seen a hot air balloon constellation, which itself was interrupted by a brief stint tracing patterns in the stars, all of which led to reading the Spanish version of 'If You Give a Mouse a Cookie' to her youngest brother, her forehead pressed to the cold rim of his sleeping pod.

She had every intention of making her way up to the bridge (where else could she hope to find all the most useful cozy-making information?), a tattered version of Se Le Das Una Galletita a un Ratón tucked under her arm in place of her father's chess set, when the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies had her making a bee line for the kitchen. The galley. The cantina. Whatever it was called aboard a spaceship-turned-Noah's-Ark.

She saw Dr. Brock duck in just a few moments ahead, and her smile brightened. She hadn't yet gotten to report she would be able to work down with the mining crews, but it was never too early to thank a hero for his good works!

Park beat her to the punch, in a manner of speaking.

He'd taken a quiet tour of the Copernicus in his time since abandoning his office - with a note on the door to page him, should any need, urgent or otherwise - arise. A scholar by trade and necessity, the former pastor had always been keen on exploring new surroundings, particularly when those surroundings were hurtling through otherwise unseen space. That, and it probably wouldn't hurt, or not in the long run, to get his fellow passengers used to his presences. People were never very happy to see him at first, but he found some familiarity often helped to ease that transition. And in any case, he was hungry. To witness the day's briefing, he could assume his waking had been relatively easy, but even so, he'd left off on any sustenance offered earlier, wanting to settle in as soon as possible. It was often people sought him out, but to abandon the few that did could be easily disastrous. Even before the Copernicus, Park had taken to keeping his phone on an accessible to patients, even through many of his Sunday sermons.

Then again, those days were long past.

It was the scent of butter and sugar that ultimately drew him down to the cafeteria, and judging by the muted by echoing voices ringing from the open space, he was not the only one to have visited, even so late after lunch. A good thing, too. He'd been worried he'd missed all the grub.

He was just down the hall when a dark and curly head swung around the corner, ebony ringlets seeming to vibrate with an energy all their own. He recognized the young woman first as she who had been caught unawares by the late after effects of the waking from the pods - or so he quietly chose to believe.

More than that, he recognized young Delilah Beltran from her file. She was the second of the two mandatory visits on his list, and one he had purposely chosen not to reach out to just yet. He'd met her very briefly just before launching. His colleague, Deli's court-ordered psychologist, and the woman who had held his position about the Copernicus until just a few days ago, had introduced him.

His would-be patient had precisely one lime-green tennis shoe in the door when he caught up with her.

"Hello, Deli."

To her credit, her expression didn't change at all, or at least, not in any way he'd have noticed -- if he hadn't been looking for it. Deli turned, beaming, and very intentionally removed herself from the doorway of the galley.

"Oh! Dr. Park. Hi." A pause. A beat.

A challenge.

"What are you doing here?"

Park smiled as graciously as he could manage, thinking to gently usher Deli back toward the cafeteria, though her stance now clearly said she had no intention of going. "Much the same as you, I'd imagine. Grabbing something to eat. I take it this means you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling fine." She was still smiling, but the words had an edge now. Her curls were no longer bouncing. "I was just leaving."

"Of course," Park said, knowing full well they both knew she was lying. "I hope you've left some of those cookies I'm smelling for me?"

"Sure," Deli said errantly, seeming to loose her self from the temporary paralysis as she squeezed past him and started back down the hallway, only to stop again when she realized he was still watching. "Um. Bye."

Park nodded. "Goodbye, Deli. I look forward to seeing you again."

Deli didn't reply to that, and as Park let himself into the cafeteria, she didn't turn away, either.

Park, for his part, found his way to what seemed to be the only occupied table in the cafeteria -- strangely enough occupied by Gavin Brock, another (albeit much younger) colleague of his; and the 'Robert' to whom he'd just sent a yet-unanswered message. And who was just now speculating on his avoidance of doctors in general.

Park smiled as he neared the two men in question.

"I hope that's not a lasting sentiment," he said brightly, smiling first at Hob, and then Gavin. "Is this seat taken?"

Outside, Deli listened with her back pressed up against the wall, the chill of it raising goosebumps down her bare arms.

She had, for once, no interest in eating or sugar or in new friends, or old ones. In fact, the whole cafeteria suddenly seemed too crowded. The latent throb of a drug-induced migraine was beginning behind her eyes, and anyway, her fingers itched.

A faint grin -- grimace? -- passed briefly over her lips as Deli made her way, still half bouncing, half skipping, back down to the pod hangars. She didn't want to eat (though she would probably dig into that staff of gummy bears in her desk anyway).

She wanted to work.

She wanted to play.

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