At least Seven-of-Nine was alone, thank the universe for small favors. With her usual disregard for human manners she seemed prepared to ignore him, whether she knew who'd come through the door or not, until he addressed her.
Might as well bite the bullet. "Seven ..." the EMH started.
Seven-of-Nine turned her head. "Doctor," she acknowledged; and turned back to her work.
"I'm sorry," said the EMH, "if I've made you uncomfortable with what I thought was a deathbed confession of my feelings for you -"
"Then you need not be concerned," Seven-of-Nine interrupted him. "I have taken your admission in the spirit in which it was intended."
"Oh?" The EMH was confused, and a little put out at her brusqueness. "What do you consider that to be?"
"As something with which, once expressed, neither of us are expected to have to deal with again."
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