"Can't complain. I'd just joined Star Fleet then, and worked long hours at the hospital. Junior officers tended to get the the worst shifts." A few more moments of rummaging reveals the drying rack, right where he thought it should be. He gives it a dirty look, but sets it up without comment and commences the washing up.

After a long moment of contemplating the sudsy water, he looks over at her.

"So, I'm pig-headed, and rash, and probably suicidal to boot, but... are we going somewhere with this, Olga?"