MarinaNova Asylum

[Karev's reclining on his sofa shirtless and in a pair of sweats with a box of cereal in his lap. He's eating it dry with one hand, and he's getting around to commentary on the morning announcements. When he speaks it is with his mouth slightly full, as suave as that is.] Just saying, ladies...

If you wanna get up on those poles and show me a few moves? That I'd be inclined to watch. And it'd be good for your health. Trust me, I'm a doctor.

[...] And I might have a friend who could use a little cheering up too.

[Voice]
A very quick question, if you have a moment to answer: where is the best place to drink and socialize in Marina?

I'm disappointed in myself for being here for twenty-two days without asking for a definitive answer to this.


[Action]
[With Korra gone, an empty Starfleet apartment, and no well-established friends to speak of, Chekov has no idea what to do with himself. There aren't math-heavy projects or engineering conundrums to provide a distraction. There isn't even a star-filled night sky to look at and map and imagine traveling. There's nothing but ocean and a growing dysphoria that is equal parts restlessness, boredom, and loneliness.

A decent bar with decent alcohol and decent company would improve Chekov's mood immensely, even with the wardens' highly prohibitive rules concerning alcohol. Since he has not found such a thing yet, he goes about his day with an uncharacteristic sullenness.

He spends several unhappy hours patrolling sectors three, four, and five. He drops by the sports complex at the warden's suggestion and, when none of the offered programs catch his interest, elects to sit on the sidelines and scribble out impossible ideas in a notepad. (Maybe he will be given rehabilitation points for being in the general vicinity of today's activities?) Chekov is careful not to look too busy, however; he doesn't want to do anything to discourage other inmates from striking up a conversation.]