The bobcat looked at the young captain, with a sigh he spoke, "Ah jalouse, th' muckle quaistion is, dae yi'll waant a pleasant untruth, th' bare minimum truth, or th' solid truth?" He looked at thr captain then the first mate, "Ah hell 'n' bugger, th' truth is wee jimmies, wur horribly understocked. We hae th' bare minimum fur a five day trip we micht be able tae stretch that tae seven. Th' ainlie guid thing is, th' emergency help kits ur a' stocked bit main med bay is doon tae mah lest compression bandage. 'n' let's nae stairt in oan gear 'n' medicine. Ahh bugger me bit tis aff tae be ticht."
The crew would be treated to the opening moments of one of Darien's mad Scotsmans tirade. Suddenly he's just growling out what can only be called a near unintelligible string of curses and filth, interspersed with mentioning the bad breeding of various public figures and notaries. All while working up a froth and foam, pulling at his ears and headfur for a good six minutes, until just as suddenly he calms. Takes a deep breathe and looks at everyone, "Pardon me, sorry fur that. A'm gaun back tae medical fur a wee bit."
The old feline would then make his way out.
A short time later, the halls about medical and hibernation are filled with the jolly sound of the missing link between noise and sound. Or some would say. Standing just in the door to the med bay, kilt and tartan on, the doctor blows off some steam, the full stock of the med bay can wait a bit.
The former Corp corpsman is as mortal as anyone really. Everyone needs to relax abit. Not saying the bobcat is stressed out or nothing. But not going to hurt anything. The strident notes of the bagpipe echo through the hibernation bay and back into medical. It's almost psychological warfare one could say.