fandom_clinic | (no subject)

Okay, at the risk of my *own* life, I'm reporting Valentine_tart (Beka). She's acting really weird.

I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd think she started to like me or something. And since I've worked really hard to make sure that never happens... I gotta figure it's this damn bug of yours.

This is a girl who I have fights with in Diplomacy class. Normal behavior for her includes stealing my laptop and inserting random priests into my Sims.

Now she's being... nice to me. It's freaky.

Fix her. Please.

evidence (http://www.livejournal.com/users/wraithbaitjohn/3444.html?thread=31604#t31604)

Beka's walk is so brisk if she was a cat her tail would be slashing the air, scything it even.

"All right. I'm here. Let's do this thing. But I am fine."

She notices Shep and forces a sweetheart of a grin. "Hi, honey. You up for drinks later?"

Sorry, my arsenic tolerance isn't that high.

Tsk. So cranky. I'll forgive you this time.

(OOC: Beka's frelling with you, but Beka-mun is pleased to see you. You've been a bit scarce. Not the dread textually transmitted illness, I hope.)

You forgive me? And you wonder why I turned you in to the clinic???

[OOC: a little of that - fall allergies - a little real life. I teach, and things got interesting the other day, so I've had to do some refining of my lesson plans. And yesterday was getting a story sent out. And when Beka fails to frell with me, I turn her into the proper authorities so... good to see you too! :)]

Of course I forgive you, Shep. Are you feeling all right? *she curls her palm around his cheek* You seem a little warm.

[OOC: Wow. I was working on lesson plans yesterday too. Have two more to finish up so that I can be done with the frelling day job mostly forever and get to writing fulltime. You write too? *blinks* No wonder these two get on like they do. *grin*]

*pulls her hand down in a firm grip and uses some self-defense move to keep her a few feet back*

I'm fine. You're the one acting like the Good Fairy crapped on your head!

[OOC: I'm writing the Human Body series if you read SGA :) You?]

*scowls at him a little sadly*

There you go being mean again. I'm worried about you. You're not usually like this.

[OOC: Is it profic of fanfic? I'll look for it. I write smutty-fic and profic. I just got a revision letter from the agent I want to work with, and now we have to get on the phone and talk about what she's looking for in my changes. *woeangstfear*]

*I'm* not usually like this? Yeah, I'm gonna have death come and get you. I think Ghost dropped you on your head during a recent transport.

[ooc: all my fiction is fanfic. My pro writing has been fannish, but non-fiction. Good luck with the agent!]

OK, now I'm worried. Ghost doesn't carry me. I just step through. You've seen me do it. Are you sure you're all right?

[OOC: Fannish. Funny. I said to my list of readers about a story I'm working on that it was fannish. The main characters are big Sci Fi Friday fans. BSG plays a major role in the resolution of the romance plot. *grin* Thanks. I hope she gets back to me soon.]

"Excuse me? Death? My friend was here for a gunshot wound -- well, it was my fault, but anyhow -- and he's just waking up."

As she stands at the desk, Angela is transfixed by the signs about the plague. She had seen Marty's chicken ... and her head had really hurt the day before.

"Oh and, um, how do you know if you have this plague?"

*DEATH sits up, attentively. If you can't see him, you can suddenly feel that he is interested and paying attention*

Angela -- who is not usually that much of a hypochondriac, but hey, this is Death and she feels she should take him seriously -- listens attentively.

"I guess I haven't really had many symptoms. I mean, I did have a headache yesterday, and my stomach wasn't feeling great over the weekend, but I thought that was because I ate in the cafeteria." She lowers her voice. "And I was a little, like, sad earlier this week, but ... there were reasons."

"I mean, I wouldn't think it was anything, at all, but if you're really this concerned about it..."

*While Angela cannot see Death, she sees a door to the side of the wating room open and senses a chilly breeze moving in that direction*

Worried about leaving Marty, Angela nonetheless follows where Death is leading.

"I hardly ever eat in the cafeteria. Just when I have to," she says.

*DEATH sticks a thermometer in her mouth and pricks her finger, drawing a up a small amount of blood into a capillary tube. He places it in a nearby machine and it beeps ominously*

*Death strides from the room and returns with a small pill.*

Thoroughly spooked, Angela pops the pill into her mouth. It smells vaguely like Tang and dissolves quickly.

"So is this is," she says, with a lisp caused by how precisely she is holding her tongue in place, "Or do I have to come back in a week or something?"

"That's good to know. Um, thank you ... Death."

Angela smiles. "I'll do that. I liked him."

She collects Marty and leaves the clinic.

*DEATH hears Jack's signature bedside manner*

Archie steps into the clinic with a small wooden keg under one arm. Muffled squeaks and scratching noises can be heard inside.

"Er. Hello?" he begins tentatively. Placing the keg on the desk, he says, "I thought this could possibly be of some use to you -- several of these 'gremlin' creatures are inside. I thought perhaps you might be able to study their venom, or whatever it is that causes strange reactions to their bites."

[OOC: Gah, I meant to post this the other day and got sidetracked. Sorry!]