fandom_clinic | Clinic Evening Hours

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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.

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Alanna came into the clinic, Faithful in her bag.

*DEATH strokes the cat gently, with the air of someone who is very familar with cats.*

Faithful purred and jumped the full way out of the bag. Alanna glanced around and squinted. "Hello?" Her eyes fell on DEATH, or at least the spot where DEATH was, and she gulped.

((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.))

*DEATH picks the kitty up, stroking him gently and scratching under his chin.*

*DEATH, holding the cat securely in one arm, does a jazz hand with the free one, forgetting that many people cannot see him.*

Alanna stared at DEATH, feeling a certain desire to flee, far, far, away. "Um, yeah, working. Helping people, live, not that, um, yeah working."

Alanna stuttered a bit and sat down.

*DEATH hands Faithful back to Alanna, taking a seat next to her. He places a bony hand on her shoulder, radiating a sense of mortality that, for some reason, might be percieved as calming in its cool efficiency. He has been in The Profession for years, and, while not having the glands required for empathy, he has become quite efficient at listening.*

Alanna absentmindedly petted Faithful. "I'm...I'm sorry." She shifted a bit away from DEATH. "I think I met someone much like you not too long ago. Makes me a bit jumpy."

*DEATH removes a small hourglass from his robe and checks it breifly*

The Tick staggers into the Clinic with

aroseintime trying to help him walk straight. Lockheed trails behind, carrying a block of wood.

*DEATH stands, noticing the stylish super-hero.*

Rose helps Tick over to a bed and releases him. "I found him in the Park. Seemed pretty shook up."

"I got hit in the head." Tick said, sitting down.

Lockheed supplied the block.

*DEATH nods, checking something from his robes. If one were to look at it carefully, it would appear to be an hour-glass. A strange, blue hour-glass. DEATH, if such were possible without having eyes, stares. And then shakes it. Still looking intently at the hour glass, he turns it upside down and flicks it with a bony finger a few times. Its not so much that the sand is not moving as it is that the sand is moving, strangely. DEATH puts the hour-glass back into his robe.

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?))

Lockheed responded, /It fell from the sky/ and shivered. There wasn't something right about this worker, but he had a vague sense that he might understand Dragon.

[OOC: Mortal indeed, probably ticklish, and knowing it's from the Disc is fine since he won't have any clue what that means.]

Rose has seen many things in her travels with the Doctor, but never an examination like this.

Tick giggled at the touch of the scythe. "It's all tickly!"

*DEATH stared at the Tick and then shrugged. A gesture he had picked up from working with mortals. He continued to examine the wood.*

*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.*

Alanna stutters something and nearly runs out of the clinic. Faithful looked at her retreating figure and shook his head. "Silly girl."

"Crafting?" Tick asked. He'd have to keep that in mind.

Lockheed chimed in. /What do you mean scheduling?/

[OOC: Basically, as long as Tick doesn't know the wood will make a certain little boy animate the next time he makes one, and as long as he doesn't fully understand that the disc is another planet, it's all good. And I'm all for neat.]

Creeped out by DEATH and his methods, Rose gives Tick a small smile and says, "Glad you're okay, must be going. Bye!" And she dashes out.

*DEATH nods carefully.*

"Thank you for your assistance, Rose!" Tick called out after her.

"No luggage. Gotcha. I think I'll just hold onto it for now. Just in case it speaks to me in the future." Tick was looking rather better already. He had received some pretty bad knocks on the head before. This one wasn't too bad compared to the time the big clown hit him.

Lockheed was really rather unsettled by this... scratching. It was rather strange to him. /Needs spell-check. Yes./

*DEATH nods, satisfied that his schedule will not be further disrupted by this unforseen event, stands quickly, taking his scythe in hand.*

*DEATH speaks to the dragon, one last time.*

Tick stood up much more quickly than a normal person would have it they had been hit with that same block of wood. "Thank you, DEATH! Have a very nice night! Oh, and I got some sandals for the dancers that I think will work just fine!"

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.

*DEATH watched them go and then pulled a small rubber duck out of his robes.

It quacks meaningfully.*

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Clinic Evening Hours

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