|
|
Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Nov 22, 2013 19:04:45 GMT -8
Soft violin music and a deep cello haunted the empty halls and rooms of the infirmary, leeching it’s melody into the surgery theater and the mortuary and the main office. There was only a single person in those sterile, white painted and florescent lit halls and he swayed slowly to the music that he put on himself. His long white coat brushed the floor ever so slightly, just a bit too long but unwilling to get another. This one covered everything, and that was the way he liked it.
It was a long walk down to the infirmary, and really, not many people took that walk unless absolutely necessary. There was a sort of ‘loading dock’ that served as an entry for those who were hurt and had to be wheeled in on various vehicles, but aside from that, there were only two other entrances. The airs of the white halls, though Jacques tried to make it seem friendly, were rather haunted since he’d arrived. It was the silence, or perhaps the constant wail of a downtrodden violin.
Jacques sighed softly to himself, still swaying very softly as he closed the Hippocratic Suggestion on the common cold. He tried to turn it to something relatively harmless every time he finished reading, but things always didn’t work out. Sometimes he got distracted by people bursting in, sirens shrieking over his soft music. Other times, he was simply called away, or just forgot the book open when he went to make himself a cup of tea.
But today, there was something else. Something of a more human matter.
There was no cutting open snarling beasts this afternoon. Something would come later in the evening, most likely, but he had a physical he needed to perform today. There was someone new in the company, having arrived only earlier that month, and according to policy, he needed to perform a physical on everybody who came along.
Physicals tended to get messy. People didn’t like latex gloves and a stranger poking and prodding them. Not many people saw Jacques, despite being the head doctor, unless they were on the cusp of death. Coming down here for a casual hi was inconvenient and simply not worth it.
May 17, 11AM
Notes: LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL
|
|
|
|
Post by LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL on Dec 10, 2013 16:28:03 GMT -8
For his age Lars was said to act like a child sometimes, something he denied often. Though someone must have warned this branch about his common actions because so far he was either escorted everywhere, or told only half truths. Even now, he was told to head down to the medical area, not warned that he was heading into a physical of all things. No, in fact they just gave his a file and was told to bring it down to the head doctor. A task that he thought would only take a few seconds, a walk in, walk out kind of deal. He didn’t know it yet, but soon enough he would be blaming his sister, since she would be the only one smart enough to warn as many people as possible about his disappearing acts.
He knocked on the door and then slowly entered, peeking his head in as he did to make sure he wasn’t disturbing anything. The last time he walked into a doctor’s office he was almost eaten by some weird parasitic creature that came out of someone’s gut. Since then he made a habit of not just waltzing into random rooms without knowing what was on the otherside. Once he was sure that entering was safe he cleared his throat and wandered into the room. ”Are you the head doctor? I was told to give this to you.” He placed the file on the nearest table and took a step back, he wasn’t a fan of doctors and wasn’t about to be one. “Well if thats all, I’ll just be going then..” He made a turn for the door, though his chances of getting away was slim.
|
|
|
|
Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Dec 11, 2013 15:37:34 GMT -8
Jacques happened to be very in tune with his surrounding space. It was just a leftover bit from when he was in the United Nations; not knowing could get you shot dead at any moment. Now that he was in a bit more of a controlled area, he learned every noise by heart. Every machine had its own rhythm, every light its own distinct buzz and every footfall had its own place.
Jacques perked up when he heard the door open, glancing over his shoulder. Ah, there he was. A… Larsaekus Rosendahl. He didn’t look too out of the ordinary, nothing much too distinct about him that would cause him to catch Jacques’ eye just walking down the hall. Just a blond boy that merged in with the rest of them, he supposed. Jacques nodded vaguely in his direction, turning on his heels to face him.
He only cast the vaguest glances down at the file before looking back up. ”Wait… Mr. Rosendahl, it was?” He took a step towards him, a small but friendly grin on his face, as usual. Mould himself into what people wanted to see, and they wouldn’t disturb him too much. They wouldn’t ask if he looked happy, after all. They only asked when he looked sad, so he learned not to.
”Mr. Roendahl, you’re scheduled for a physical today. You didn’t take one when you first arrived.” Simple, was it not? Most people didn’t mind.
May 17, 11AM
Notes: LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL
|
|
|
|
Post by LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL on Dec 13, 2013 12:20:42 GMT -8
He paused at the door after hearing his last name, a sigh escaping his lips. For anyone to call him by his last name only meant trouble in the end. He debated just running out the door, but guessed that he should at least try and get away with some smooth talking and a slow step out the door.
Lars wasn’t a fan of doctors, and he was certainly not a fan of physicals. Now not all physicals were the same, and some were pretty quick while others felt like they went on forever. Lars didn’t like either was was willing to do a lot to get out as quickly as possible.
“physical?” He pretended that the word was unknown to him as if, his English just happened to be forgotten just there.
”Jag förstår inte.” He shook his head, speaking in Swedish and telling Jacques that he did not understand, hoping to the heavens that Jacques did not understand a lick of Swedish. Lars took a few steps back and reached for the door, pulling it open.
”I should go, yes.” His voice was a bit shaky, but he was not willing to stick around without at least trying to get away first.
|
|
|
|
Post by MIRACH DIA on Dec 13, 2013 20:56:56 GMT -8
And of course he pulled the door open and there she was, standing in the way. Mirach tilted her head and patiently waited for Larsaekus to notice her as he spoke nervously to the doctor over his shoulder, a crooked smile carving its way across her face below her mask. Oh yes. She had actually gone out of her way to dress up as Asclepius for this event—just for the sake of shits and giggles. Typical, sane doctors favored white lab coats and neutral colors and had no intention of scaring their patients to death with grotesque and bestial face masks reminiscent of darker times in history, and they certainly never brought baseball bats with them to the office. But there was one such thing planted on the floor in front of her, the butt end of the bat pressed into her open palm, one hand over the other. Her black trench coat was immaculately neat and tidy, yes, but it only added to the malevolence of the entire get up and the suggested purpose. There wasn’t a person in the building that probably didn’t know about this second skin of hers, but few of them had—or wanted—the opportunity to actually see it in person. Larsaekus Rosendahl should consider himself so honored. Mirach’s cinnamon brown eyes almost flashed red in the light; a chuckle pushed up her chest as pretty boy Lars finally took stock of what was waiting in the doorway.
“Buenos días, Mr. Rosendahl,” she said, darkly. Her gaze quickly skipped over his shoulder and toward Jacques and her tone lightened, as if she were speaking amiably with an old friend. He was after all, a colleague. She even smiled genuinely below her mask, amused. “And good morning to you too, Doc. We met the other day. I’m sorry I’m late—I misplaced some of my medical equipment.” Her gaze dropped to the bat poised in her hands and she shrugged helplessly. “But I found a suitable replacement.” She lifted the bat and tapped it against the floor in a clear sign that nope, she wasn’t joking. “I was told Mr. Rosendahl is quite the slippery character and was asked to assist—or at the very least, make sure he stays for his physical.”
She breathed a laugh, her shoulders shaking gently.
“Of course. There is an alternative to the Doc’s methods, Mr. Rosendahl.” She peeled one hand off of the bat and dug into one of her trench coat pockets. A white, latex glove surfaced a second later. She slipped it onto her bare hand and let it snap against her wrist. “I can help you with your physical, if that’s what you’d prefer. It's not usually my thing, it's so boring and dull. But I'm sure we can get creative." Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed; she leaned closer on purpose and her tone dripped with hints of a very palpable threat. Lars wasn't slipping his way out of this one as easily as he thought he was.
Time Stamp: May 17th
Notes: pffft. Poor guy.
|
|
|
|
Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Dec 13, 2013 21:18:21 GMT -8
Jacques, by all intents and purposes, was trying to be kind. Medicine was a vast field that often involved more than a little trauma for both ends, but mostly it was the patients who tended to develop an unhealthy fear of their doctors and all the wonderful things that could or could not be done.
Larsaekus went as pale as a sheet the second he mentioned a physical. Yes, most young males didn’t like physicals, but it was a fact of life and it needed to be done. Just because he wanted to scamper off didn’t mean he’d actually get to do it. Jacques was aware of how… slippery this one patient could be, though. It had actually gotten a mention in his file, which was surprising in itself. No wonder he’d avoided this for so long.
”Oh come now, Mr. Rosendahl, you’re 27 years old. You should have had this done before.” And pulling the language card on him didn’t help. ”You were speaking perfect English not moments ago. Now, if you’ll just step inside my office—“ But of course, nothing was that easy.
The second Larsaekus opened the door, Jacques’ brow shot up. Mirach was standing there in full regalia because yes, he’d been told about her love of Halloween costumes and how she liked to make everyone evacuate their bowels with it. She had a baseball bat to boot. Lucky him.
Jacques sighed. ”Glad to see you today, Ms. Dia.” As far as he was concerned, she wasn’t married. If she was, he would put a prayer in for that poor man. ”Now, mon cher, I’d like you to help me with Mr. Rosendahl here.”
As a member of the Impedio Society, he needed to be prepared and he was obligated to keep these people healthy, crazy or not. That fell into psychology and obviously, he was no psychologist.
May 17, 11AM
Notes: LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL MIRACH DIA
|
|
|
|
Post by LARSAEKUS ROSENDAHL on Feb 18, 2014 18:57:43 GMT -8
Old or not, Lars was not a fan of doctors and there was little that could change his mind, that was until he opened the door. At first he was going to just push pass the women until her words, and the object in her hand stopped him.
Larsaekus paused in the doorway, medical equipment? A bat? Why was it tht all of a sudden Lars was cursing his sister for sending him to America. Even more so, why was it that he was starting to believe his old friends when they used to say that Americans were crazy? Because right now he was agreeing with the notion strongly. The words coming out of Mirach's did let Lars know that next to being crazy, she was there to force her crazy on him.
How was it that his reputation had traveled so far so quickly? Then again he did skip out on.. well his whole first few days of even reporting to this IS branch, so maybe they had reason to worry. Still was that bat really needed? Secondly, was she really allowed to use it? Lars was not sure if he was willing to test her, he wanted to still be able to walk after this, so he did give in. Taking a step back into the room, still unsure of what they were planing on doing to him.
Normally people did not scare Lars, but knowing the type of people that could be found in the Is he decided not to take any chances and dropped the weak English act pretty quickly. He still had and accent, but he knew his English better than he had been letting on at first. "No, its fine you can go back to where ever you ame from, no trouble here, right doc?" Not that he expected much help from the doctor, but he was hoping the guy was more of a safe bet then the chick with the bat. "She puts away the bat and I'll think about playing good." He really did not trust this woman, and probably would have ran far far away if he knew who she was related to. Like most people Lars knew of the Dia family, worse he knew of one in Sweden that drove him up the wall.
|
|
