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“Alright, I think that’s enough for today,” Archer said as he removed his hands from Shran’s head. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Shran said, not bothering to lift his head from Archer’s lap. “Your technique has improved.”
“Well, I’ve had plenty of time to practice,” Archer replied with a smile. “Speaking of which, has Phlox said how much longer you’ll need me to keep doing these massages? You seem fully healed to me.”
“Well, Andorian antennae are complex organs,” Shran replied. “I wouldn’t want to stop these sessions prematurely.” His eyes shifted to look at Archer. “As long as you’re still willing, of course.”
“Of course. I don’t mind helping out.” He absently caressed the antenna with his fingertips. “It’s just that I thought Phlox said you should be recovered by now. I just want to make sure you’re healing well.”
“I’m sure I am,” Shran assured him. “Thanks to your care. I believe your doctor may have simply underestimated my recovery time.”
“Maybe,” Archer said carefully. He looked at Shran. “You know, I actually asked Phlox when I ran into him in the mess hall earlier today.” Every muscle in Shran’s body suddenly drew tense. “And the funniest thing happened. I thought he said that he gave you a clean bill of health a week ago.”
“He what?!” Shran sat up abruptly. “The Denobulan told me no such thing.” His eyes flashed angrily. “Is it a pinkskin custom for your doctors to gossip about their patients’ health to others?” he accused.
“Hey, relax,” Archer said. He bit back a smile as he gently pulled the Andorian back into his lap. “It’s okay. I must’ve misunderstood what he was saying.”
“You must’ve,” Shran growled. “I will speak to him myself and see if I can…clear things up between us.”