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She doesn’t even get a moment to acclimate. When she wakes in Sickbay, it’s the first thing the nurse asks. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Tigan,” Ezri forces out through her dry throat. “Ensign Ezri Tigan.”
The nurse gives her a strange smile. “Dax,” he corrects. “You’re Ezri Dax now.”
“Right,” she murmurs as memories of a hasty lecture and skimmed consent forms come back. “I’m Ezri Dax.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
She doesn’t. She learns to respond to it and give it when asked, but she never gets used to it. And it never fits.