Who the hell are you
Who the hell are you
Cats? Sure! They’re soft and cuddly animals, what’s not to like? Don’t necessarily trust ‘em though.
I really ain’t much of a fighter.
Well, damn, if I’d known I’d get this many compliments here, I’d’ve come earlier!
Too damn many. You think I can count them all?!
I just don’t see how that is any of your goddamn business.
Hell if I know! Maybe after this five year mission is over, if Jim doesn’t drag me out here again. …maybe never. Dammit.
Bourbon Whiskey Iced Tea of July. Make it.
I don’t have one. Men like us… well, we don’t see them as adventures, like y’all do. We have to live them. We live through the torture, the horror of not knowing if you, your friends, you colleagues are going to make it through. It’s often so romanticized in the media and I don’t think you can really understand it. It’s too damn hard.
But I wouldn’t ever want to do anything else. None of us would. Because even though it’s awful and heart-wrenching to have to proclaim someone dead when I could be back in Georgia diagnosing mild illnesses and not dealing with this crew who more often than not don’t worry about the danger they put themselves into, I am meant to be here, on the Enterprise, helping these fools and the civilizations we encounter.
I actually ain’t much of a traveler. Sure, I travel for a living, but… I travel to help people, not to travel. If I could go anywhere, it’d be a place that nobody was able to help where I could have.