[Earth, San Francisco, Outside of Starfleet Medical]
It was an overcast day, the sky a flint and fossil grey as the sunlight attempted to pierce through the sky. A Bajoran man in civilian wear stepped out from the grand structure of Starfleet Medical Headquarters, his cherry red duffel bag plush full of his personal effects. He took a few steps and turned to look up at the structure he had spend so long inside, getting to know full well its various facilities, staff, and even some of its patients. He remembered feeling somewhat frightened when he first came by, unsure what answers -if any- dwelled within. Now it was not so scary, only slightly sad. For all the technological marvel and summit of minds that the Federation could offer: the man had only a handful of answers when he wanted a full backpack worth. He finally looked away from the structure and strode away from it; trying to be happy, if not content, that he was able to leave it.
A soft chime drew his attention to his bag, so he stopped at a nearby bench and smiled politely at a passer-by; if nothing else, the city was as friendly as he ever remembered it. Even if, his last mission involved this very city and the Starfleet as a whole.
Drinks at the 602? My treat! said the text on the flat Starfleet-insignia'd PADD he had.
He tapped his own forehead with the device in thought. He remembered the old place, the unofficial pilot's lounge of Starfleet and popular hole-in-the-wall for officers looking for somewhere off the Presidum to drink. Even before his time, the place had a certain legendary aura about it. Claims that this or that famous officer had drunk there -true or not- always kept the place just busy enough to be friendly, but not so busy you had to reserve a chair. The Bajoran sighed and looked at the PADD again, as if he could will the invite away. "Sometimes, you just have to dive in." Arrun Dihsar muttered at his PADD; recalling advice from his therapist.
He tapped at the PADD once more, letting his friend know he was on his way. Arrun did not want to see anyone today, especially after such an exhausting morning of filling out paperwork for his official release. But, he was beyond being a hermit on his mountain, seeking the Truth from the Prophets: he couldn't hide away. Even if he hadn't told anyone, except his Doctor, what his intentions were: he could not pretend the universe and the people in it didn't matter to him any more.
The weight of his decision on him, he strode to a nearby transit stop and made his way to the 602 Club.