"God-" The "damn it" only finds its way out in a frustrated huff as he pulls his hand back and rubs it, looking over her again, but this time more like she might be a trap he just sprung and less like an attractive woman leaning on the counter.

Ask her? Uh. No. He knows Heather doesn't like Medbay - hell, the entire ship probably does - so he's not sure that he should bother with asking when he knows he's gonna get a laugh and a no in return. Not to mention that he just doesn't want to speak to her, period.

On the other hand, it's not like she knows what he's up to.

"Get your ass off the counter."

It's more nice than yanking her off, right.