#i really hope that one reference isn't in bad taste. dude deserved worse. yikes

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 76: Coincide

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 7. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Prescription medication and the reasons for it, smoking, honeymooning type behavior.

“...[H]ow complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” -- Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle

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For the next few days, ‘Choly and Sticks formed a routine. They'd have breakfast, search and research, and then play tourist when their constructive efforts petered out. All kinds of strange things found themselves on the shelves of Ant Lane’s shops, from deteriorated phone books to crystal butter dishes.

Angel sanctioned a temporary renewal of ‘Choly’s Mentats habit, as treatment for the persisting migraine that wouldn’t let up, even after he got his neck and shoulder back in place. Pain on its own could’ve laid him out, but the sensory dysregulation ruined him. If not for the Mentats, he couldn’t have possibly accompanied Sticks and Angel to comb the mall. But he refused to sit out on their mission. Between his aggravated photophobia and their failure to produce any concrete results, he’d become most snippety and cantankerous.

At least they’d put their hands on some toothpastes and mouthwashes. Not that it mattered much without the core ingredient.

Turning in close to closing, they returned downtrodden to the Anchor Inn. Orqueida had not been at the Concierge desk since that first night, but there she was. Sticks steadied ‘Choly while he dismounted from Angel. The trio approached the desk at the ghoul’s suggestion.

“Good evening, milady.” Sticks produced his sack of pulls from his apron. “I believe we should go ahead and pay on our rent for another week.”

She eyed some papers on her desk with detachment.

“One-ten, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What!” ‘Choly nearly slapped off his own glasses in animation, and stewed rubbing at his nose. “--We’re not sticking around past our rent. They’re not here.”

Orqueida complied with the request and set to counting out another week’s pay. Looking between the two men, her curiosity ran amok of her entrepreneurial temperament. The makings of drama brightened her misaligned eyes.

“Just ‘cause you don’t feel well doesn’t mean things are grim on all fronts. I can keep looking even if you’ve got to stay in bed all day. We haven’t even bothered with the Flea Market yet.”

“He’s right, you know,” Angel seconded. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Sir. Please trust that your best interests are ours as well. We know how much these devices stand to improve your quality of life. Have some faith, Sir--in us, as well as in our task.”

“Angel’s right, too. We threw in the towel today without having a little fun. Why don’t you find something in the Gift Shop, Mindy? My treat.”

“The Gift Shop?” Orqueida repeated, squaring her shoulders when their attention remembered she was there. She smiled, eager to attend them. “You’re in luck. I went out scavenging the Nashua ruins this week. I just restocked this morning.”

‘Choly rolled his eyes, but none of them saw it as he resigned.

“Why not?”

Orqueida walked them down a center hall to a space with installed shelves. Stools provided a few small table arrangements of objects. Odd metal and ceramic objects populated the stall. Divorced from their origin, ‘Choly struggled to recognize much of what these things once decorated, but identifying a few things helped his understanding a majority of the Gift Shop’s merchandise was salvaged architectural hardware and ornamentation. One of the three walls displayed metal bas relief faces and scenes, reminiscent of a taxidermy wall. Remnants of large scale bronze sculptures also littered the collection, ranging from broken arms still toting Revolutionary War weapons to a tricorner cap upturned still containing the top half of some man’s head.

“Fascinating.” Angel marveled at everything from a distance. Chuckling to himself, Sticks flapped a large door hinge at the Mister Handy. “Sir... I’m not sure that’s what those are for.”

“You said you’d been to town.” ‘Choly picked up an intricate brass doorknob and inspected it for no other reason but weariness. “You didn’t happen to find any medical gear, did you?”

“I wasn’t going to ask, but...” Orqueida wrung her hands in front of her. “What could you possibly be so desperate to find, that you couldn’t find it here? That you’d stay at Anchor an entire extra week, without looking into leasing?”

Sticks produced the Walden catalogue from his apron pocket and turned it to the page. ‘Choly grabbed it and rolled the booklet back, to hold it out to point. Orqueida eyed the page. Their demeanor invited unease, but she seemed to gain something from regarding the product photos.

“...So that’s what that thing was,” she murmured, holding her chin.

“Wait, what’s what thing!” ‘Choly grabbed her arms with both hands and looked up at her in snapping desperation. “What did you have!”

Orqueida convinced him to let go, but he didn’t apologize. She pulled the catalogue from him, but hesitated to point at the neck brace.

“I had... that part. Brought it back because it’s got good leather. Junk doesn’t sell in the gift shop, though, so I gave it to my boyfriend. He seemed to know what it was, but he didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. It’s medical equipment? You’re more ill than you let on--”

The unlikely breakthrough sheared any civility ‘Choly could’ve mustered.

“Your boyfriend! Who’s your boyfriend? Where did you find it? Please tell me it was in tact.”

“Geez, Mindy.” Sticks put a hand to his lower back, hoping to cool him down. “Let her get a word in, would you?”

The group fell silent while they tried to figure out whose turn it was to speak. Orqueida shook her head slowly.

“There weren’t any other pieces like that where I found it. My beau’s Liam Bledsoe. He runs the Gate City Clinic. You can’t miss it. It’s at the Lantern Intersection between See’s and The Hall. Lower Level.”

‘Choly removed his glasses to massage his nose bridge.

“The Clinic. I asked you the night we got here, if we needed to go there. It could’ve been our first stop.”

“I didn’t find it until yesterday.” Orqueida’s features skewed at him. “Liam wouldn’t have had it. I’m surprised you haven’t found any of the other parts yet. I’ve seen stuff like this before. It’s been a while, but I can confirm it’s been here.”

“So we are on the right track.” Sticks smiled and tapped ‘Choly’s back. “You really are wonderful, Orqueida.”

“Well, hopefully he’s still got it. Don’t praise me just yet.” She sighed, her face long but invested. She walked them back to the lobby. “I’d escort you there, but I need to be here for the last wave of check-ins. You’ve got about half an hour before curfew. Don’t worry if you run over. I can walk you back. See’s will understand.”

“Thank you, madam. Wish us luck!”

Angel warmed her demeanor, and she smiled and nodded.

“Maybe another day, you can consider buying a piece of Nashua history to take with you. But we’ll revisit that. You should get going.”

“See you in a bit,” ‘Choly appreciated, sheepish.

‘Choly didn’t bother mounting Angel to walk the short way to the Lantern Intersection. With how miserable he felt, he would’ve had more trouble getting back down. Across and diagonal from Grey & Gould, the Clinic occupied a large corner store space. When they entered, two older Laners were just leaving. A dozen beds and mismatched patterns and sizes of standing curtains lined up one side of the establishment, while a small seating area and some desks occupied the other. The bite of tobacco smoke and iodine chafed them.

Off to the window side of the Clinic sat an impassive gangling thirtisome man with a slicked pale rattail. He had on a half-unbuttoned banded collar seersucker shirt with rolled sleeves. When he glanced up over his beaklike nose from the folder he’d scrutinized, the cigarette in his mouth went limp.

“You had better need medical attention, to be bothering me so late.”

“...Sort of,” ‘Choly replied. “It’s complicated.”

“We need medical supplies,” Sticks added. “We’ve been referred to you.”

He sucked at his smoke, then held it in one hand to exhale, still skimming the file in his lap.

“Unless you’re looking to unload some, you’re out of luck. I can’t spare anything directly related to patient care.”

Sticks produced the catalogue, and showed their acquisition goal.

“Orqueida said you had a piece of this stuff. ‘Choly here needs it.”

The wood chair clacked to the polished concrete, to rest on all four legs, as Liam stood to approach. His deep-set eyes squinted at the page.

“I just today got that. I’m not interested in selling it.”

‘Choly feared their grasp slipped, and he squirmed. Everything felt hyper-real, too crisp and clear, too sharp for his senses.

“If you need chems,” he blurted out, “I’ve got a few Med-X, Rad-X, and Addictol. I’d even fork up some Mentats, if it’s convincing.”

Liam just kept staring at the catalogue.

“A trade is more my tune.”

“He can practically be a roaming pharmacy.”

“Well, if you know a drugstore or clinic that hasn’t been cleaned out within twenty miles, be my guest to scav. Though I imagine if you’re here, you’ve either already tried, or chems aren’t your fix.”

‘Choly hemmed, weighing the emotional toll and feasibility of what spilled out of him next. The consequences of normal, common drugstore chems were predictable, marginal, compared to what concerned him.

“It’s a shame the Walden Drugs warehouse is leveled. We didn’t just come to Nashua seeking medical equipment. We were hoping its chem lab survived. You haven’t got a chemistry setup, have you? I could help replenish some of your pharmacy stock. I’m a chemist. Was a chemist. Am? ...It’s complicated...”

Liam soured with a sneer and flattened brow.

“You really are a chemist? You’re not yanking me around?”

“Certified and seasoned.”

“I’m the only experienced medic left. It’s been over a decade since we had a chemist. It would be fantastic if you could provide that kind of labor, even if it’s just for a day or two. We could use just about anything you can cook up. For example, without Med-X, I’ve been forced to offer patients Hub petals for pain care lately. One step above chewing bullets, depending on the need.” The medic made eye contact with him. He puffed again at his smoke, careless of the ashes. “You must have expected a large setup from a warehouse. You didn’t intend to set up shop in the Satellites, now, did you?“

“The property’s location would have been its only consequence,” Sticks assuaged. “I’ve always preferred doing business with Ant Lane.”

“It is a shame,” he nodded, quiet. “Lab equipment’s mostly glass. If the building’s leveled, all that’s got to have shattered. ...Would’ve been a hell of a windfall.”

“You didn’t say whether you’ve got a lab here.” ‘Choly doubted the appropriateness of pressing Liam on it, but he had to get traction any way he could.

“A small one, yes.” He sighed, impatient. “You didn’t say why you’d need a surgical brace like that. It’s for post-op recovery. Heavy duty stuff. Are you expecting some kind of major surgery in your future?”

“It’s a gross oversimplification, but I’ve been exposed to lots of untested chemicals. I would demonstrate my joint laxity, but this cervical migraine has me too far gone to even think about loosing something, let alone resetting it. I’m at my limit right now. Please just tell me you’ve got any of the surgical orthotics. And please tell me Orqueida correctly said it was the cervical brace in particular. If I have to go one more day with an otherwise preventable vertebral subluxation, I will no longer be accountable for my behavior.”

“He’s been nigh insufferable,” Sticks whispered to Liam.

Liam took it all in, his understanding building into more agreeable nods. He walked off to a door in the back. He returned with a foot-wide length of canvas, lined and edged in leather, its ends eyelet-laced together. He sat at a stool halfway between the door and where the two men stood, and beckoned that they meet him. Sticks helped ‘Choly sit on the edge of the bed there, a small mattress atop a desk.

“I see a lot of visitors who don’t adjust to the rad-eaters’ glass so well. Migraines are somewhat common. I suppose I may as well examine you.”

‘Choly let Liam place a palm on his forehead, check his blood pressure by the wrist, and grip a few joints without manipulating anything out of place.

“I’ve been taking Mentats for the migraine these past few days,” ‘Choly admitted. “I’ve got awful photophobia on account of the cataracts, and I can’t imagine that the weird gold light helps with that, either.”

Liam motioned in encouragement that ‘Choly list off his symptoms. ‘Choly did so, and tried to show him the vitals page of his Pip-Boy. The medic largely disregarded anything not said aloud, snubbing digital diagnostics.

“I haven’t heard of anything like this before. I do think you’re right to take Mentats. When I have them, that’s what I recommend for migraines caused by the lighting here. But the light sounds like it’s only exacerbating existing issues.”

“I’m hoping we can locate a full set of that style of orthotics. I intend to wear it long-term. At least, until I can determine if my condition’s permanent.”

“If you open your shirt, I’ll help you into it. They’re a bit fussy. Promise it’s been properly sanitized.”

‘Choly’s heart fluttered.

“I already have a lesser orthotic corset on. I don’t need to remove it, right?”

“And it’s not too different from putting that on, is it?” Sticks squeezed over to watch. “I need to watch. Er, ‘cause I’m going to be the one helping.”

“As long as I can get at your shoulders and collarbone for the fitting, that’s all I need. And I’m not the best teacher, but you can watch. Whatever.”

‘Choly complied with the best posture he could, stunned. He tried to observe without being able to watch.

“You weren’t kidding.” Liam identified 'Choly’s errant vertebrae with intuitive, firm presses all along his neck and spine. ‘Choly couldn’t possibly sit still enough, hearing Liam’s detached dislike of the task. “Wicked unprecedented hypermobility. It would take next to nothing for me to manipulate your spine with just my hands. Eh. Hopefully, I helped with the alignment that the collar will hold.”

The medic latched the busks on the side and lined it up, hands feeling either side of ‘Choly’s jawline. He adjusted the lacing accordingly as he tightened it into place. As the collar fit his contours, ‘Choly felt drawn into place, comforted by its rigidity and pressure.

“Not too tight, is it?”

“It’s... perfect.” ‘Choly ran a hand over the boning seams, at a loss for words how much better he already felt. Restricting the amount he could turn his head would do wonders for it staying put. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think me crass, but I’ve got to ask.” Liam bent down a bit to meet ‘Choly’s seated eye level. “I can’t tell your gender.”

‘Choly’s eyes widened as he assessed the best answer. The fact a reflexive response didn’t come, he couldn’t tell if stress tripped him up, or if he suddenly didn’t quite know. He hated that Sticks didn’t chime in, but at the same time, he appreciated it.

“Most people in my life have called me a guy. That’s fine.”

The answer interested Liam. It interested ‘Choly more.

“Hey.” Sticks wagged a finger at Liam. “You didn’t state your price.”

Liam sat back down. He pulled a drawer of the desk, and extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray in it. He then fished his pack of cigarettes from inside his sleeve. Only once he’d lit a fresh one did he glance to Sticks. Leaning forward, he fidgeted with his lighter and the pack.

“I’ll accept the Med-X and Addictol. You guys can keep the Mentats. It’s for his migraine.” He glanced to ‘Choly. “And I’ll accept your agreement to help me turn around my inventory. I’ll pay you for anything you can cook up or otherwise bring me.”

“You don’t want the Rad-X?”

Considering Sticks’s selfish interests in outfitting him with these leather-and-canvas pieces, ‘Choly couldn’t help but regard the medication as prophylactic in their own way. He wondered whether other ghouls in the mall needed such a thing.

“No need for it mostly. We’ve got a stand of maple nearby, sound shelter, and clean water. Rad remedy’s one of the only things we have in surplus.”

“I... I’ll sleep on it.” ‘Choly remembered to button back up. His breath snagged as he turned all this over in his mind. “I don’t see why not, as long as I’ve got the accommodations and the materials. I’ve got to pull together the funds to afford the rest of a full set as we find it, right?”

“I can keep an eye out for those, as well, as long as you’ll recompense me for the trouble. You might certainly do well to consider more contemporary clothing choices, too, if you’re going to wear the collar daily. It doesn’t really look to get along with a prewar dress shirt.”

When ‘Choly got to the top two buttons, he couldn’t help but agree, and forfeit completing the task. Liam leaned in to get a handshake, firm but jerking.

“I wasn’t expecting to take on a new patient tonight, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to find a prospective business partner. How are you feeling about things?”

‘Choly warmed to smile, nodding.

“I’m confident. You wouldn’t believe how much more confident.”

“Good. Hm. Where all have you looked so far? They’re not so rare.”

“We’ve focused on clothing and armory,” Sticks said. “We haven’t managed to look through the entire mall just yet.”

Liam shook his head and sucked at his cigarette, eyes shut. He gestured with a dismissive assertiveness.

“You’re on the wrong track. You need to try junk vendors. Ask people for their scrap leather. Sure, it’ll turn up baseball mitts and wrecked leather jackets and shit, but you’ll eventually turn up other pieces of this set without a doubt. I will tell you a secret about this place: Just about nobody here knows what they’ve actually got, and even fewer know what other people are actually selling.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help,” ‘Choly appreciated. “You and your girl both.”

“It’s less trouble than you think.”

“I do want to make it clear that ‘Choly and I work together.” Sticks imposed his own handshake to cement things. “Sticks and Melancholy. I take care of things for him. Consider me a... an acquisition expert.” He grinned, standing broadly. “I’m even better finding homes for things.”

“I can see what kind of invoices I can draft in the morning, for the two of you to work on filling. In the mean time--”

Liam stood with a big, bright grin. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he waved his open arms to Orqueida, who’d arrived with an armful of food. She motioned for Angel to come inside, so she pulled the rolling door shut and locked it. Then she set down the oiled fabric bag of food to embrace her boyfriend.

“You got ribs tonight,” Liam reveled, his aquiline nose deep in the sack. “Fantastic celebratory meal.”

“Oh, so something to celebrate, then! I didn’t get dinner for you two,” she apologized. “Figured you’d already eaten. You can have a handpie if you want.”

“We have,” ‘Choly waived. “Don’t worry about us. We should get back, so you can enjoy it hot.”

“Speak for yourself. I’d like a handpie.” Orqueida gladly gave Sticks one.

“Angel. Angel, come here. I need your storage.”

“Oh, that thing’s yours. I should’ve known. Orqueida can’t stop talking about it.”

“I’m something of a hot topic, it seems.” Angel let him inside. “I’m glad we could provide you some medically necessary goods, Mister Bledsoe.”

‘Choly set out the requested medication on the exam bed, and Liam flipped cartons open on them to guarantee complete packages.

“Hopefully much more than that,” Liam grinned through this smoke.

“Were you done?” Orqueida asked, brightening. “I don’t want to run you off.”

“Speak for yourself,” Liam chuckled. “The sooner they can scram, the sooner I can sit down to Radstag and Blight. It’s past curfew anyway. You know how much I hate See’s getting nosy, love.”

“I’m starving, really,” she admitted. “Let’s get you gone, then.”

“Come see me sometime before lunch. Say, eleven or so. That’ll give me time for my morning appointments and such.”

“Enjoy your dinner.”

The Concourse became another place altogether, once the visitors emptied out. ‘Choly expected the halls to fall quiet, with people winding down to sleep after long days, but the opposite seemed true: Laners could socialize and unwind after closing shop for the day. During the day, the mall felt like a mall for the most part, but at night, its community ties wove it to life.

“I’m glad Liam was able to help you,” she told them, at a hush. “It sounds like you’re a help to him as well.”

“Don’t praise me just yet,” ‘Choly grinned.

To circumvent the Anchor Inn’s rolling doors, she let them in through the employee access, and led them through the office hall to the lobby inside.

“I’ll praise you all I like, Melancholy. Good night.”

“Good night,” the trio all whispered.

Once they heard the door shut, Sticks pulled ‘Choly in, with a firm grip on the collar’s lacing. He grinned heatedly at him, eyes inviting a passionate kiss. His other hand wandered to the small of ‘Choly’s back. ‘Choly wrapped his arms around him, to draw it out.

“Words fail me,” ‘Choly finally murmured, smiling into Sticks’s chest. “The first step to feeling normal again.”

Sticks swept him up bridal style without warning, spurring laughter in the two which bystanders, had they had any, might easily have mistaken for drunken tomfoolery. The ghoul pecked away at him delightedly, intent do do far more behind closed doors. Angel chuckled a bit once it was certain ‘Choly was okay carried back to the room in this way.

It hoped to itself, “Maybe a bit better than normal.”

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