Early Counseling Hours, Tuesday November 15th

[master-of-fear.livejournal.com]

Jonathan decides to make up for his missed Counseling hours during the week. His nose is almost healed, all of the cuts and almost all of the bruising are gone. He's pleased that he likely won't be scaring any of his patients today.


Jonathan is in, do you have problems?




((Tara-mun? I'll be back at 9:00 am PST, will you still be on?))

Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 15th

[dr-jwilsonmd.livejournal.com]

Wilson wore an pensive expression as he moved around the Clinic opening it up for the day. He had quite a few things on his mind and was rolling them back and forth trying to come up on the right side of just how to approach the matters.

He'd checked on Jack, who seemed to maybe be feeling better today, Wilson was going to hope that this wasn't a lead on to another relapse and made a mental note to try to keep the young man quiet for at least another 24 hours.

The scent of coffee, the Jamacian Blue Mountain today, filled the small reception area and as he sat back down behind the desk, Wilson reviewed the To Do list. At least he'd managed to get some of the required rec forms submitted yesterday and could expect a shipment hopefully tomorrow. For the time being, he knew he should work on charts but his mind was a bit too distracted so instead he sat back behind the desk, feet up on the counter, cradling his coffee mug and staring off into space.

Doctor on Duty, come distract him from his ponderings...or weedle coffee out of him, either works.

Clinic Evening Hours, Nov 15th

[death-n-binky.livejournal.com]

*DEATH takes a seat at the desk, a huge pile of addressed letters behind him. There is a pen and paper, writing itself, next to him. DEATH himself is addressing an envelope.

There is a basket of political buttons on the desk, with a rubber duck on top of them.*

DEATH is in. He's like a doctor, only he can tell you truthfully that you're not going to die. So, come in, bleed on him, chat with him, engage him in riddle or play a joke on him. He's lonely. Or would be, if he had glands.