Meanwhile with sugar

A little nurse flipped a pink-filled syringe through his fingers, pausing at intervals to squirt some of the liquid onto his rosy-stained tongue. As he lounged indifferently in a low-backed chair, feet crossed and propped up beside the computer on a desk sticky with reddish syrup, a tall man in a long jacket fluttered into tangibility.  He kept his eyes on the screen, deliberately slung both arms behind his head, twining his fingertips, and jerked his thumb just enough to jet sugary goo onto his arriving guest. A brief, irritated glance saw the stain removed, and the man with brown hair and chilly eyes stood behind him, stared over the nurse's shoulder. On the screen were the captain, the science officer, and the chief medical officer, all female, all too young, all asleep.
The nurse spoke first.
"Not bad, eh?"
 . . . "What are you doing?"
"Just a bit of fun, really."
"Why?"
"Why not? Besides, they were asking for it, believe me."
"Where are those who belong here?"
"Oh, they're fine. Just sent 'em on a little vacation, which they were asking for, too, by the way. I was just setting things straight."
. . . "Put them back."
"Who died and made you God?"
. . . ". . . . . . ." . . .
"Okay, okay, geez. A guy can't have a little fun around here? I'll put them back; just give me a bit to get my mojo back in gear."
"Good."
With a flickering and a whisper, his unexpected guest was gone. The nurse snorted, brought down an arm for another hit of candy.
"I liked him better before we died."