ext_131572 (
death-n-binky.livejournal.com) wrote in
fandom_clinic2005-12-03 04:25 pm
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Clinic Evening Hours
*DEATH opens the clinic for the evening, taking up position at the reception desk. He appears to be reading a manual on theraputic dance and humming "All That Jazz" in a disturbingly dirge-like manner.
A small sign is posted in the clinic that reads:
FREE DANCE LESSONS. GOOD FOR THE SOUL.
(TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW.)
The Clinic is Now Closed. The doctors are likely on call, but DEATH has left the building.
A small sign is posted in the clinic that reads:
FREE DANCE LESSONS. GOOD FOR THE SOUL.
(TRUST ME, I WOULD KNOW.)
The Clinic is Now Closed. The doctors are likely on call, but DEATH has left the building.
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*DEATH strokes the cat gently, with the air of someone who is very familar with cats.*
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((ooc: S'all right. Kitty happy either way. Alanna has a weird thing with death, she met her world's god of death a few years before so...yeah, weird.))
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*DEATH, holding the cat securely in one arm, does a jazz hand with the free one, forgetting that many people cannot see him.*
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Exam 1, NFB
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Lockheed supplied the block.
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He taps the tip of his scythe lightly on the Tick's head, mimicking the treatment of the hour-glass just a moment ago. He still appears slightly puzzled.*
I BELIEVE I CAN SAY WITH REASONABLE CERTAINTY THAT HE WILL BE FINE. HOWEVER, I DO NEED TO FULLY DOCUMENT THE INCIDENT.
*DEATH removes a thermometer and sticks it into the Tick's mouth and then turns to the small dragon, taking the block of wood.*
*If DEATH had larynx it is possible that, perhaps, his voice might have sounded vaguely fascinated.*
((OOC: I'm assuming the Tick, despite being invulnerable, is mortal. Which means the scythe is going to feel really weird and disconcerting. Or, perhaps in the case of the Tick, kind of ticklish. Its hard to say. Can he know that the wood comes from the disc, provided that the Tick doesn't know its magical?))
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[OOC: Mortal indeed, probably ticklish, and knowing it's from the Disc is fine since he won't have any clue what that means.]
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*DEATH hands the wood back to the dragon*
*DEATH seems vaugely distant, if remembering something. He mutters, which is still quite audible to everyone.*
*DEATH removes thermometer, barely glancing at the readout.*
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Lockheed chimed in. /What do you mean scheduling?/
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Lockheed was really rather unsettled by this... scratching. It was rather strange to him. /Needs spell-check. Yes./
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*DEATH speaks to the dragon, one last time.*
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Lockheed immediately hopped on Tick's shoulder while holding the wood block. /Yes, sir. I'll be sure to stop by,/ he said, leaning away.
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It quacks meaningfully.*
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