fandom_clinic | Clinic Evening Hours, Nov 19

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Clinic Evening Hours, Nov 19

*DEATH strolls into the clinic with a pile of official looking papers in his hands. He seems to be working on something. Periodically you notice what looks like a Victoria's Secret catalog at which DEATH scratches his head. Or skull.

His rubber duck seems to be absent.*

((OOC: DEATH!mun is heading to bed. Feel free to bleed all over the floor, but keep in mind that it will be played out in the late morning tomorrow.))

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[ooc: Hey there! If you're going to set the Clinic up for the evening could you set up the threads, the way the prior two Clinics were laid out? Helps folks keep track of things...or at least helps me keep track of things. Especially with the high traffic this plot is producing.]

((OOC: No problem... I just haven't been doing it lately, since DEATH doesn't get a lot of traffic usually... give me a few moments. Oh, and check your email.))

[ooc: Want me to move Rory into a comment marked as the surgery/her room? So that everything's all neat and pretty?]

[ooc: No worries! I'm going to just go ahead and delete what we have, and move all the text from our comments into one consolidated one, if that's all right.]

DEATH is probably sitting behind the desk. If you don't see anyone, which is quite likely given who is manning the Clinic, please shout.

Janet wandered out from--well, she'd crashed in a chair somewhere in the clinic last night. "Oh," she said, yawning widely. "Hey, is it morning?"

Sam turned around from where she was making another pot of coffee, in anticipation of more visitors. "Janet? When did you get here?"

Janet yawned again. "Actually, I've been here. Since last night, very late. I must've fallen asleep when I sat down."

"Here," Sam said, as she poured some of the old coffee into a cup and handed it to Janet. "It's nighttime. Fresh coffee will be ready in a minute."

"What happened? No one's told me anything."

"Nighttime?" Janet groaned and reached eagerly for the old coffee. "I've got to stop sleeping the day away."

"Crazy Squid Lady attacked Marty. Angelus attacked Rory and, um, Logan too, I think. I heard him brought in while I was asleep." Janet shook her head. "And I heard something on the radio too, but I don't remember exactly what. Something about a soul?"

"You really do. You ready to head back to the dorms, or do you want to take a walk around and check on everyone first?"

"That must have been what Parker was talking about," Sam groaned. "She said that she was involved in some kind of spell on Angelus that she wasn't sure worked."

"I didn't get a chance to check on Rory," said Janet. "So I'd like to see her if she's up."

Janet yawned again and drank some more coffee. "A spell? That matches up with what I remember hearing. Obviously, I'm going to have to pin someone down and get the whole story."

"Okay. Mind if I come with you?" Until they knew what happened with Angelus, there was no way in hell she was letting Janet walk home alone in the dark. "Yeah, that would be nice. I'm not sure even Parker knows the whole story."

"Oh, you know how little I enjoy your company," said Janet, grinning. "Someone's got to know what happened. It's just a matter of figuring out who."

"Good." She set the coffeepot to brew and walked over towards Rory's exam room. "Yeah, that would be the project, wouldn't it?"

*DEATH looks up from a book that appears to be entitled Getting What You Want From Men. His pen is scribbling notes furiously of its own accord.*

Janet raises an eyebrow at the pen, but decides to ignore it. "I try not to, actually," she says ~~the player having decided that she's spent enough time in the clinic visiting Jack that seeing DEATH is an option--and fun~~. "There are logical reasons, I'm sure. I just don't know them."

OOC: NP!

*DEATH has set aside his book for a moment and then pen stills. He seems, if possible, slightly more professional.*

Janet yawned again and sipped at the coffee. Old, yes, but it still had caffeine. "Doesn't logic depend on the premise you're starting out from?" she asked. "Of course, the premise shouldn't be flawed. Maybe that's the problem."

She blinked. "Do they seem unsurprised to be dead?" asked Janet. "It seems to me that, being dead, they'd have no reaction one way or the other."

((OOC: Yay!))

Susan comes into the clinic. She's wearing the blue gown she wore from the festival, but her hair has come out of it's careful knot and writhing like a pile of excited puppies. She looks tense and unhappy. "Grandfather?"

She shrugs. "Not too dreadful, I suppose." She eyes his choice of reading material. "What are you working on there?"

DEATH holds up a copy of Seventeen...

Susan's mouth hangs open for a long, long moment. "Fashion... fascists?" she says weakly. "Lingerie? Cleavage?" She shakes her head sharply and fold her arms. "And just how do you plan to use this information to your advantage?"

[[ooc: *dies and is dead*]]

*DEATH holds up his copy of Getting What You Want From Men*

*DEATH pauses, as if the words are unfamilar or contrived*...

*DEATH, if such a thing were possible, seems very confident and self-assured. Still, he lowers his Voice, which is a disturbing sensation indeed.*

Susan's mouth works as she tries to process this information and come up with a proper response. She sinks into one of the chairs and shakes her head. "Well. Er, good luck with that. The, um, anatomy thing, I mean. I'm sure it will all work out for the best." She nods and kicks her legs out in front of her, boots appearing from under the skirt. "I got a package from Aunt Keli the other day," she remarks casually.

*DEATH, if possible, seems slightly annoyed at the mention of the woman. He taps his fingers quietly against the desk, as if keeping very precise time.*

"You tell me," says Susan with a sly grin. "Shouldn't you know?" Her smile fades. "She sent me a family heirloom - the gift you gave my father on his wedding day?"

*DEATH's voice trails off slightly.*

Susan tilts her head and looks puzzled. Her father had only ever mentioned one gift. "It looks like a jewel, like a very large pearl or something, but it's not. It's something else. Something... much... bigger." She looks thoughful. "Something with a lot of potential. I don't know what to do with it. it makes me nervous, having it around."

[[OMG, I have to go. Can we pick this up later?]]

The Lab is empty, the equipment humming quietly, waiting to be used.

If DEATH takes you here, you probably won't die. Used for walk-ins.

Rory is sitting in her room, humming to herself and staring at the ceiling. She's not moving a lot, though. Mostly because she can't.

*DEATH, making his assistantly rounds, checks in on Rory. If she could see him, she would notice that he is wearing plain, basic black robes and seems to be quite confused. Or as confused as a person with a skull could be.*

HOW ARE YOU RECOVERING?

*DEATH takes a seat next to her bed, checking vitals with cool efficiency. The aura of chilled dread in the air seems vaguely off-kilter.*

"I'm okay," Rory replies, shivering slightly. "Er...better. Talking is more than I was doing yesterday."

THIS IS GOOD TO HEAR. THE SOONER YOU RECOVER, THE SOONER YOU CAN CONTINUE THIS LIVING THING YOU MORTALS ARE SO FOND OF.

IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

“Will do,” Rory replies with a nod. She continues to stare at the ceiling after DEATH leaves, and starts humming again.

[ooc: DEATH not actually being modded. I'm just fixing a comment error from earlier, y'all.]

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Clinic Evening Hours, Nov 19

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The Waiting Room - Broadcast Away

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The Lab - Broadcast Friendly

Exam Room One - NFB

Surgery - Rory Gilmore -NFB