doctornota - Tumblr blog

[doctornota]

OH, GOD, if she starts crying Leonard's gonna have to bail out of this conversation real quick. He's not sure why exactly he's 2-for-2 on bumping into lost kids before they've even managed to get their bearings, but he does know he's quite possibly the least qualified person in the city to handle the situation. He closes his eyes briefly so she can't see him roll them skyward. One day he'll learn to mind his own business.

"Just a joke, kid," he offers lightly, though he gets the distinct impression that explaining to her that a whole lot of kids her age seem to have been abducted here as of late would probably not be a great move. Not that he has any real idea of how to assuage her worries, but actively adding to them is most likely not the method to go for here. So the joke in question goes without being elaborated upon. It's been a damn long time since he's had to converse with any kids in general - he's hardly left space for ten years, and it's been around that long since he last saw Jo. How are you even supposed to talk to somebody this short? Crouch? Is that rude?

"Hey, hey, hold on. Take it easy," he holds out his hands, which is how you handle startled horses, not crying teenagers, but he's not about to watch her launch herself into a panic attack. "We're all in the same boat around here. That's how everybody got to this place." Well, not everybody, he's sure, but the vast majority of the folks Leonard has run into all had the same story. Home one minute, here the next, without any rhyme or reason. Least it means they're not alone, though it doesn't paint a pretty picture as far as the motives of their captors are concerned. This is a grand-scale operation of some sort or another. "It's complicated, but you're not the only one."

What an astoundingly unhelpful thing to say. But Leonard hardly knows what he's doing here, let alone what anybody else is doing here. What possible reason is there to kidnap a kid who looks like she was just pulled out of a middle school talent show? And hell if he knows what a puella magi is.

"And yeah, believe me, I get it." Even though he absolutely doesn't. But the sentiment is one they share - one they all share, he's sure. "But I don't think leaving is as easy as getting here. Listen, I'm pretty new to this place, too. I wish I had all the answers." For a moment or two he debates feeding her some horseshit like hey, I'm sure there's a way to get back, but kids can see through that sort of thing pretty easily and Leonard doesn't make a habit out of being a liar. "You said your friend's in danger?" She doesn't seem overly beat up, just generally sort of traumatized, and it's hard to pin that down on the kidnapping or whatever the hell might've happened prior. But in his case, it was much easier to think of back home than it was to plan a future in a place he actively hated. "What's going on?"

a small figure ( characterised by pink, oh god, so much pink ) jumps with a yelp at the remark made by the man near her. it's clear the worry permeating in her thoughts is present enough to allow him to go by fully unnoticed until he speaks. she unnaturally turns, quick, almost tripping over her own feet during the action and proceeding to fumble rapidly with her limbs as to avoid meeting with the floor. after a moment to regather herself, she finally looks upwards with both hands collected in front of her and a panicked yet polite little smile in her expression. the girl is visibly shaken, her lightly red eyes giving away previous crying.

in an uncertain tone, she begins, " um, n - no, i don't think so. i don't take the bus, i .. i walk to school, so i couldn't .. have been on a .. " she slowly grows quiet upon realising it's not really helpful information in a situation like this and stares down at her hands, falling into silence. the frown that blooms within her expression afterwards says her mind, however, is anything but. why can't i just ask him where i am? i have to! the witch is destroying the town - hurting people! if i don't get back soon, homura will have no choice but to ..

her gaze suddenly snaps in mccoy's direction and there are double the reflections within them upon processing his words, the hope she finds herself in an witch's labyrinth - an unfortunate but at least familiar scenario - withering away all at once, as if a winter hit a garden without warning. " w - wait, abducted?! how is that possible .. ? i was right there with my friend! i - i blinked, and suddenly i was here! "

madoka seems, for lack of a better expression, as if she's haunted and has been for years. she shakily wipes her sleeve over her eyes, drying them, but it's no matter. her shoulders are trembling, fingers laced between one another as she tries her best to explain the situation and not start crying in front of someone she doesn't know. " more puella magi will keep crying and . . being in pain if i don't go back, sir! i - i need to go back, my friend's in danger! "

she breathes in, calmly, distress still transparent but more contained. " i'm sorry .. i . . just need to know how to leave, mister. "

[doctornota]

HIS HANDS LIFT APOLOGETICALLY ( that and he's fully prepared to catch that phone if she ends up throwing it ) — yeah, maybe he should've figured that she'd be a little preoccupied with trying to find her way around, but he hadn't meant to startle her. Looking at her more closely now, though, it's pretty clear she's - would it be rude to say not handling this well? Looks halfway on the verge of passing out, and that's professional opinion speaking.

"Think everybody is, when they first show up." He shrugs a shoulder. "You should've seen me. No need to apologize."

Technically he's still a bit of a mess, but he's got no reason to go around announcing that to the general public. Still, it means he's not exactly the best candidate to be giving her the welcome tour. So he owes her an apology in advance for that, he supposes.

"Actually, I've still not got my feet under me just yet," Leonard confesses. Of course he can offer the barebones basics as they walk, but little more than that. "But I can get you over to where you'll be staying, if you want. Maybe you'll find somebody more helpful over there," or at least, you know, a pillow to scream into. That's what Leonard did as soon as he found his way to his apartment. He's sure it set a great impression for his roommates, though nobody's banded together to kick him out just yet so there is that. "That alright by you? You're not hurt, are you?" What he really means is is she naturally that pale or is she about to hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. At least he knows where the hospitals are.

To say she was lost was a vast understatement really. Snow White still wasn't completely convinced all of this wasn't a dream, since, last she checked... She was still lying in that glass coffin in the black forest of her home... So waking up by a deep pit, and immediately stepping into a strange horseless carriage was not on her list things that could realistically happen to her. At least the place she was in was relatively comfortable to look at, which proved good for her panicked state in making it just a bit less.

Once she actually heard someone calling to her, the princess spun around to find the source of the voice, clutching the peculiar device she was given to her chest so she didn't drop it. " Oh ! "

Snow took a second to steady herself, not completely confident in her ability to stand upright. You would be wobbly too if you'd spent the better half of a year in a coma.

" Oh goodness me! I- No, I don't! Frankly I don't know where I am, or how I got here, or- Oh dear... I'm awfully sorry, I'm a mess. "

[doctornota]

MAYBE HE'S FINALLY SNAPPED. It was only a matter of time, if he's honest. Leonard pauses in his writing ( there's no Starfleet here, no constant demand for incident reports and medical journals, but with nothing better to do with his time he's begun documenting the medical equipment in this place for his own sanity all the same ), glances up and then around, tilts his head. He swears to god, no bullshit, he hears quiet music coming from the walls. Highly evolved rats? Sure, man, he's not ruling anything out at this point.

Then there's a clatter from above. Another, then a quiet thump. The apartments are high up - like, more high up than Leonard is comfortable with on most days - so there's no way on god's green earth that anything's up there other than an oversized bird, maybe, but...

Hell, it's more believable than musically-inclined rats in the walls. He's not about to venture outside and climb up the fire escape, so he instead takes a broom and bangs it against the ceiling. Thank god nobody else is home right now, he thinks, as he shouts at the ceiling. "Do you mind!?"

@doctornota asked for a starter !

This roof has a pretty nice view, now that he's taking a second to look out at the skyline from it. He prefers the open outdoors, of course, but it's still pretty solid. Honestly, he might just make this one of his more frequent sit and chill out spots. It's.. a little more annoying to get to, seeing how he can't just run up the side of the building anymore, but fire exits work just as well!

Hopefully the folks inside the building don't mind the possible commotion that comes with bringing a lawn chair, umbrella, and boom box up here. He's got it at a pretty low volume, so it shouldn't really be an issue! He's just sitting here chilling. Vibing. Nourished and in his zone.

[doctornota]

i bet the ex is completely unbothered too that's usually how it goes

leave me the fuck alone

[doctornota]

if you have to tell yourself that you are Not the one who is taking it well

( on his fifth drink ) i took the breakup super well by the way. i bet he's sooo worried about me back home. i bet he is

[doctornota]

"I WOULD NOT BE SAD. I'd be bitter about being proven wrong," McCoy returns. Which isn't necessarily true, but he does imagine he'd feel pretty bitter about being proven wrong by this guy specifically, who is not only wildly inaccurate in all of his assumptions about modern medicine but also comes off as irritatingly smug or at least self-obsessed enough to make Leonard want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him around a little. "And of course I like my job. I wouldn't do my job if I didn't like it. It's not about obligation."

He can help people here just as well as he could help them back home, after all. And Starfleet is full of qualified, capable medical officers. It's not like everyone back on the ship isn't getting helped just because Leonard wound up here. Never mind the fact that any other medical officer might not remember all of Jim's allergies, or put half as much effort into compensating for all the bizarre quirks of Spock's biology when working on vaccines, or...

Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this.

"I don't believe that horseshit for a second, for the record." Or, well, he definitely believes it's not this guy's job ( nor his business in general ) to be speculating about everybody he bumps into. He just also believes that's not going to stop him, because here he is, speculating. "Look, I've had patients eat priceless alien artifacts, medical scanners, and the buttons off the goddamn command console. You're gonna have to try a lot harder if you're trying to make an impression - and no, that's not an invitation to come running into the ER talking about a runny nose again."

He really does wait for the shoe to drop. If his better ideas are anything like the last couple of ideas he got out of the man, morbid curiosity dictates Leonard's got to hear it. But of course he's not that forthcoming - it's all about theatrics with this guy, or at least that's the impression he's gathering, and as much as Leonard wants to be unimpressed by that he has to admit that the other's attitude isn't entirely unjustified: he does have some sort of a charm to him, it just happens to be particularly infuriating. He rolls his eyes.

"Not sure I'm gonna hold out hope that you're the one who's unlocked secret of curing the common cold, either, but you're welcome to prove me wrong one of these days." It's going to be hard to avoid each other entirely and, honestly, he's not sure he would count his feeling towards the other as dislike, really - he just can't say he's counting down the days til their next encounter. His eyes narrow sharply at the unsubtle gesture made in his direction as present company converses briefly with a waiter, turning to watch as they depart.

"McCoy," he offers distractedly. "Leonard McCoy. Didn't really take you for a whiskey guy."

" you joke about it, but if somethin' does happen, i don't wanna see your sad sky blue eyes as you tell me i was right. " as he often is, obviously. preparing for the conversation ahead, will downs his drink in one shot, makes a face, then gets another. turning onto his side, his shoulder now stands between himself and the wall, with the writer facing mccoy directly.

" are you serious? you're the only person ever to complain about a vacation being too long. you must really like your job, " that makes one of them. " or maybe you feel some type of obligation? y'know, the longer you're away, the less people you can help. something like that. hey, not my job to theorise 'bout other people, but .. "

he shrugs. there's no continuation to that sentence nor explanation as to why he tends to gossip about others to their faces. it's a living. " oh? you've heard more concerning things than eating raw meat? damnit, now i wish i said something even more outrageous! i'd have stayed in your mind for longer. what abooouttt .. week old goat milk, cucumber and dandelions? no, no! fish left in the sun, sea water and roses? "

the author's voice breaks into laughter as that last sentence gets out, loud, far too entertained for what he said before to justify it. " i'm kidding! i'm kidding. well, not about the raw meat, i did eat that. but hey, you gotta live a little, right? how do you treat a cold, big guy? wait for it to pass? well, i have a better idea, "

and he takes a big swing from his glass. " i'll tell you someday. gotta build anticipation, right? you gotta have a reason to want to see me. "

before mccoy can even reply, he's waving down a waiter and very quickly ordering two glasses of whiskey. will whispers something into their ear while very clearly pointing at mccoy, to which he receives a nod. " hey, if you don't want 'em, i'll have 'em! i don't mind. so - gonna let me put a name to the face? "

[doctornota]

THAT'S ONE WORD FOR IT. Elegant, if he's being more generous. The sort of thing that makes him feel out of place, certainly, though this entire city in general is pretty good at that.

"Not here, no, but where I'm from that's the only way to get an invite to these things." This is admittedly more casual - in the regard that just about everybody made it onto the invite list, which wasn't much of a list at all to begin with so much as it was merely an open call to come and dance - but the feeling is similar. He's got to admit he's impressed with how much effort everybody put into all this. Not just the hosts, but the guests. Leonard had dithered about getting a mask. It had seemed like a silly concept. If anyone here shared that view, it sure doesn't look at it. Everybody is walking around in masquerade. He shrugs as he scans the room. "Guess I can't fault anybody for taking the chance now that they've got it." 

Just because it's not something he's suited for doesn't mean Leonard's blind to the appeal entirely. Stepping out in a fancy new suit to pick up some stranger at a ball... it's all very fairytale, if that's the sort of fairytale you like to imagine.

This guy's got a worse attitude about the whole affair than he does, and Leonard makes a point of being sour. He's not sure if he's feeling grudging respect or just a vague wariness towards the other, who on top of being thoroughly unimpressed with the sight before them also keeps eyeing around like he's in search of an escape route, which either speaks to how much he doesn't want to be here or how bad at casual small talk McCoy is.

"So why'd you come?" Leonard asks, and to his credit it only sounds a little accusatory - he is curious. "Not that your idea doesn't sound appealing," truth be told he planned to do the same - load up on drinks and then vanish - but at least he's made some small effort in socializing. "But it's not like attendance was mandatory."

He makes no comment on the opera. ( He does not mind the opera. )

In any other circumstance , having eyes scan his face so intently would make him immediately run. There’s only one reason why someone would want to get such a close look at him : they saw his face on a wanted poster and they want the profit. But this isn’t home , and as far as he knows he isn’t wanted here. Yet. The mask covering the top portion of his features does help console him , but he still keeps his head on a swivel. He glances around the two of them for the nearest door. Just in case he does need to make a quick exit.

❛ Well , I can’t say that I blame you. ❜ He says , taking a second full flute of champagne from a passing tray. ❛ It’s quite a stuffy party , isn’t it ? ❜ He didn’t miss occasions like this , himself. And the addition of masks makes it harder to find a pretty man to take his leave with ── his favorite thing to do after a party.

Kai raises his shoulders in a shrug , beginning his second drink. ❛ I don’t think half of the people here are diplomats. They’ve just gotten dressed up for the hell of it. ❜ He knows diplomacy far too intimately for his own liking. And this ? He supposes it could be , but what is there to be negotiated here ? For what he knows they’ve all been brought here for some greater purpose. And if the people who brought them here aren’t at this party , then what the hell is it being thrown for ? He doesn’t hide the frown that curls onto his lips.

❛ I , for one , am going to stay as far away from the crowd as possible. As soon as these drinks kick in I’m calling it a night. ❜ He side eyes the opera singer. ❛ Not to mention how boring the entertainment is. Sure , you’re meant to ballroom dance ── but to opera ? ❜ He scoffs. ❛ I’m surprised the more . . . influenced among us haven’t fallen asleep already. ❜

[doctornota]

"YEAH, PRETTY SURE WE GOT A CURE FOR THAT." The plague was a non-concern long before Leonard's time and, even judging by the state of medical advancement in this place, is more than likely a non-concern here, too. Of course, he wouldn't be surprised if the universe proceeds to go out of its way to prove him wrong. "But if it really makes you feel better I'll go right on ahead and tell the hospital we should be keeping an eye out for plague victims."

Unusual health concerns is an understatement. He's already fully aware the guy's from who knows how far back - even if his approach to healthcare makes Leonard's head spin, he guesses maybe a few hundred years ago or so it might've been considered common sense ( by some stretch of the definition ).

And to think his instructors said his over-fixation on medical history was a distraction.

"Think I'd go crazy on a vacation this long." He personally thinks it's a reflection of some sort of stress-induced tendency to over-worry, the fact that he can't not be practicing medicine even in a place where he's woefully under-prepared to manage the technology, but sure, he'll take the respect the other offers. He's less sure what the handsome thing has to do with anything outside of being a particularly unsubtle attempt at flattery. "And your concerns aren't the strangest I've heard. I'd just be happy if you'd agree to call a doctor before you try to treat any illnesses at home."

Before landing here he could not have imagined he'd have to worry about patients chowing down on raw steak in their efforts to cure the common cold, but now it's a concern that lives quietly in the back of his head. Leonard does love collecting those.

Still, he's put on nothing but an abrasive sort of front in all his run-ins with this guy, so to say he's surprised by his request is an understatement. He glances sideways at him. "You don't have to do that," he informs him reluctantly. "I think you'll find whiskey doesn't actually improve my mood any no matter how much I may claim otherwise, sorry to say. But I think I can entertain a conversation, sure - if my unusual to you health concerns aren't too much."

" the plague is always an honest-to-god problem, " and even under the mask, you can tell will's giving him a sideeye. " people appear here from any place in time and in the universe, you don't know if someone has the plague! "

he's truly not that worried about it - if spirale really is in the year, what, 2024, then they probably have already found a cure for the plague - but the man he's come to identify as mccoy through his ' you have got to be shitting me ' tone alone brings out the worst in him, that being his stubbornness to be proven right. " guess that'd be your problem, then. i'm not a doctor, but you are. "

then, it occurs to him: what if he gets sick and leonard is the only one that can help him? good heavens, he doesn't want to sit in a hospital bed while having this freakin' guy jab at him! that'd be horrid! a sigh echoes, and will leans against the wall. jesus christ, the things he does to have people like him.

" look, we got off on the wrong step, but i think you're a real handsome guy and i respect what you do. you could be usin' this as a vacation from wherever you came from but you're still practicing your job. if i get you a whiskey will you entertain me with some nice conversation and we can actually introduce ourselves, or are my unusual to you health concerns too much? "

[doctornota]

McCOY SPENDS A MOMENT trying to study the other's face, at least what part of it isn't framed by feathers, but comes up short at putting a name to the masked figure. He isn't too surprised by that. He could count the number of people he truly, genuinely knows around here on one hand. There's the slight lift of a shoulder in tentative agreement, humming at he likewise takes a sip of his own drink, makes a face, and then sets it - halfway-full - on the tray of the caterer that bustles by. Nah. Still not a wine guy.

"Been trying to tell myself that. Beggars and choosers," he shakes his head. Shan't. Who the hell says shan't. "Doesn't change the fact that I'll need something stronger to justify stickin' around." Which admittedly is less because he needs to be bribed ( he may not be much of a ball person in general, but it's all very pretty, he won't deny that ) and more because he's going to lose his nerve otherwise. He's not Jim, can't chat up strangers with comfortable ease, can't fall into step with anybody who passes his way with hardly anything more than an outstretched hand.

"I'm not really used to this sort of thing," he explains, after figuring that perhaps his grousing reflects poorly on an otherwise perfectly grand event. "I'm not a diplomat." And it isn't as though the Federation throws this sort of affair for just anybody. A spontaneous occasion just for the sake of it is something relatively novel, in the eyes of a man who's hardly spent a day off the job in over a decade.

He’s not sure if it’s coincidence or a cruel trick played by fate that a ball would be thrown right as he arrived here. Half of him didn’t want to even entertain the idea of attending ─ but the intrigue of being in a room full of perfect strangers outweighed his fear. It wouldn’t be as unsettling if he could see the faces of those around him , but instead he’s left with the added uncertainty that anonymity brings. He’s slightly comforted by the fact that he , too , is anonymous , face adorned with the first mask he could get his hands on. Black feathers frame his face and the mask meets his nose in the shape of a beak. Not what he personally would have chosen , but he wanted to stay true to the dress code. It’s all he could find on such short notice.

A hand reaches out to take the first drink that passes him by. The drink is unfamiliar to him , but he takes a sip anyways. As he does , he looks towards the man next to him. His shoulders tense slightly as he recognizes the outfit ─ the mask he dons worn by doctors who treated the plague. He doesn’t think anyone here would have the plague , but he supposes he can’t be too sure.

Slowly , he allows himself to relax again. ❛ You know , I’m inclined to ask the same. ❜ He then lifts the champagne flute in hand and drains the rest of the glass in one drink. ❛ But I suppose I shan’t be too picky. A free drink is a free drink , after all. ❜

[doctornota]

THERE'S A NONCOMMITTAL HUM IN RESPONSE - does he really want to go out of his way and make it known to the caterers that he's specifically here to drink - but admittedly even a beer sounds like a step up from champagne. He's about to thank the other regardless when the outburst makes him double-take.

Even under the radiant mask he sports, the borderline theatrical outburst ( and how absolutely absurd of a question that is ) makes it all too easy to land on the other's identity. This fuckin guy.

"If the plague was an honest-to-god problem around here we sure as shit wouldn't be having a ball," McCoy points out. "How the hell is this a serious concern for you?"

it's a blessing that someone approached him right as he got to the ball - most seem preoccupied chatting with those they either recognise or already have gotten acquainted with, leaving will to fend for himself before he encounters someone he identifies. something about the stranger's voice is familiar, but not enough for will to be able to put a name to the figure.

still, he places the glass he'd just finished down, reaching for another - " yeah, they do, but i think you have to request it specifically. i saw someone walkin' around with a beer earlier, " - before almost spilling it all over himself when he sees just who had begun conversing with him.

holy shit. " someone here has the plague?! "

[doctornota]

IT'S THE SORT OF AFFAIR LEONARD TENDS TO LOATHE, stiff high collars and slick dress shoes, all those people spinning in dizzying circles. The masks everyone sports are like an echo of a bygone era in Earth's history, sort of charming albeit eccentric. If McCoy was smarter he wouldn't be here at all; but a few dozen crash courses in diplomacy have taught him the importance of making an appearance. He has to find his bearings here eventually, and turning into a hermit won't help in that regard.

Besides, there's supposedly free drinks ( though perhaps he should have selected a mask that's a bit easier to drink with - the hooked beak attached to his won't do him any favors there ).

The benefit of being in a room full of masked strangers is that he doesn't have to feel any associated guilt for being a bother. Not everyone is dancing; there's a fair share of stragglers on the edges of the room, perusing the snacks or admiring the decor. He elbows a couple here and there.

"Think they've got anything stronger, or are we talking just dry wines and fancy champagne?" What? It's an honest question.

[doctornota]

HE CAN SENSE THE SKEPTICISM, or perhaps he's merely anticipating judgment. "Yeah, well, how else are we supposed to take house calls?" Leonard's always had a distaste for the red tape of medical bureaucracy, at least when it bumps up against the often urgent need to just get in there and help somebody, even if he understands the importance of following such strict procedures on paper. In the field things are different.

Getting a worm out of somebody's head surely counts as urgent enough to warrant bypassing a few little technicalities. A temporarily misplaced thermometer won't raise alarms regardless - he's worked in his fair share of hospitals, done his fair share of off-the-record work for patients.

"I keep thinking these things'll be like they are back home," he confesses, lifting a stethoscope from the bag once it's set down, which is one of those things you see in old medical books and not much of anywhere else. His frown is twisted with distaste. "It's a hell of a lot easier to just scan somebody than... I don't know, poke around and listen and guess, no matter how good of a guesser you are. And then people go and wonder why so much of old medicine was trial and error."

Of course there's the larger devices back at the hospital, some of which must be for imaging of some sort or another, but Leonard can't exactly smuggle those out through the front doors. That part may have to be on the record.

He waves a dismissive hand with a shake of his head at the first offer, but the second gets more consideration. "If it gets me on his good side," not that it seems to be all too difficult - Scratch seems perfectly content to soak up the attention. He spares a glance back to the bag of smuggled supplies. "They let you keep anything from back home? Or just, you know... rebuilding." He can only assume that's what most of them have had to do. Try and scrounge together some sort of life here - it's not like there's any way to rebuild what they had before, not when things are so different here.

it's quite tempting to answer the question leonard is clearly asking the dog. if there's one thing fiyero is good at, it's fishing for compliments. but it's undeniably sweet to watch leonard bend down to meet scratch, vying for his attention. it's easy to get it, scratch panting happily and tail wagging with the praise, and fiyero's not about to interrupt when they're both so delighted.

   he's never wanted any pets. has always been bad with animals, really. it would've been a good idea to get a horse at some point throughout his journeying alone, if he ever had the money to afford one, but ... well, they just don't seem to approve of him very much. whether that's some type of curse put on him (he clearly remembers his mother's reprimands when his riding lessons would go awry), or just his own insecurity getting in the way, he doesn't know.

   either way, he couldn't afford to be insecure with scratch. he was all alone when fiyero found him, and he needed somewhere to go to. and now that they're both here, all alone without the rest of their party, he's glad for the company.

   ' loan it out, huh? ' he didn't take the doctor for a thief, but in times of desperation ... ' looks pretty advanced to me. you wanna see my supplies? they're very barebones right now. ' picking up the bag, he walks over to the table to set it down. he's tempted to reach inside, but doesn't want to meddle with leonard's stuff too much.

   ' let me know if you're hungry, too. i could give you a treat to give to scratch, if you'd like. '

[doctornota]

No comment.

[doctornota]

for everyone waiting on replies here i prommy i have not forgotten any! it's a mix of

i'm getting jed situated because he has youngest child privilege atm and

i'll be on vacation starting in a week, for a week - most of bones threads are getting queued up to go out then so my blog isnt entirely empty :')

[doctornota]

Yes, irritation. How was raw steak going to save you from dying?

i'm not dying because of the raw steak, i took the raw steak because i was dying. there's a difference there.

i don't know what that is, but i'm going to say yes! why, am i creating a surge of emotion within you, doctor?

[doctornota]

I— what? I never said that. I said you walked into a hospital claiming you were dying because you ate raw steak to take care of the sniffles.

Do you make a hobby out of pissing off your primary physicians or something?

oh, a god denier, i think that's really hot. i love a man that has no faith in a higher being whatsoever and only believes in himself. just wait until you hear about the time i drank milk that was three days old and dandelions....

[doctornota]

You are definitely exercising my patience, I'll give you that, but last I checked the only thing that put you in my life is your completely unfounded theories about how to treat the common cold.

i think god put us in eachother's lives so i can continue to exercise your.. patience and faith in humanity. and maybe something else. i don't know. anyways i think our meeting was fated. do you understand?