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Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Nov 17, 2013 20:41:21 GMT -8
He swore he was going slack-jawed over the sheer amount of text he had to read through. It was like being in medical school all over again. Realistically, if he didn’t want to, he didn’t have to. Reading through the tome was going to take… well, it could’ve taken forever. He’d already been picking through it for the better part of a year and he still hadn’t made a dent. Diagnosing humans was one thing, but diagnosing completely foreign beasts was another. The book had a literal endless number of pages and it was like following links on a website, going deeper and deeper until you got to that really weird part about lung-on-forehead disease or whatever that was.
For the time being, he was ‘on break’. The IS was at least making an attempt at keeping him from collapsing, though he was working against that quite fine. Whenever he was put on break, he’d make himself busy reading through the Hippocratic Suggestion or performing autopsies on whatever happened to be wheeled into the infirmary that day. Because there was nothing put over ice last he checked, it was the Hippocratic Suggestion that got his attention today.
”Lung-on-forehead disease, I just don’t…” He sighed, trailing off into his own tangent as he pored over countless old, scrawled drawings of creatures with a lung growing out of their faces. Something about bodily displacement, or spiritual possession. Either way, it was fatal and he had no idea when he’d encounter this to make reading the entry on it practical.
The office he sat in had been decorated more or less by himself during his time here. He didn’t want it so cold and impersonal that people felt unwelcome, but when the door was locked, it meant nobody should come in no matter what noises were coming out. There were a couple wooden lizards on the wall, a plant here and there, some old books on the shelf in different languages, among other things. It made the place look halfway cozy.
His desk was a bit more cluttered than he would’ve liked; a mostly unused laptop sat in one corner and the box he kept the Hippocratic Suggestion in was kept next to that. He rarely let anybody but himself touch it, half out of concern that it would bond to them and dire consequences would befall whoever it was. Last time it had been rabies. Drooling and foaming at the mouth while twitching on the floor for 24 hours wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his day.
May 16th, 11AM
Notes: NOPE
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Nov 17, 2013 21:48:41 GMT -8
So the good ol’ Doc was in this afternoon. Lovely. Mirach smirked and slipped into the office after quietly easing the door open, taking care not to make any noise. Stealth was something of a specialty of hers, so it wasn’t that hard, and she supposed her latest victim, coworker was too preoccupied with his whatever-the-hell-he-was-doing to notice her as she pressed her back to the door and muffled the soft click it made as it slid closed. It was her first visit, actually, and her eyes quickly scanned the area for telltale signs of personality. He was organized and open, it seemed. Or at least he wanted to portray as much—she supposed the lizard knickknacks said something about him, and the plants maybe gave the space a little more life and possibly a reserved, professional feel. Books gave the impression of comfort and knowledge. But otherwise he wasn’t as exciting as she hoped he’d be. If anything, it was an inviting space, but ordinary. She’d heard about the guy of course—could have broken in a number of times if she deemed it necessary, but hadn’t bothered. Honestly, there’d been too much going on in her life lately to get to know the Head Doctor as much as she would have liked.
But we’re fixing that now, she thought slyly before finally flicking her gaze back to him. At least she wasn’t in her Asclepius getup. That might have given the poor guy a heart attack. But she was in dark jeans, a shirt and a black hoodie, with the hood pulled purposely up, and she snuck up behind him wearing the meanest grin, folding her arms behind her back and threading her gloved hands together. She even held her breath until the last possible moment, her eyes dropping to the book laid out in front of him, skimming a few words and amused at the images it portrayed until at last, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lung-on-forehead disease,” she mused openly. “Sounds grotesque. I’d love to see it.” She smirked and quickly stepped back, throwing up her arms in mock surrender, just in case the good doctor jumped from his chair or threatened to throw something at her. Her grin widened. “Evening Doctor Bon-French-Word,” she added, still wearing a cattish smirk. “I’m sorry. Bonheur, was it? I didn’t want to butcher it,” she explained, while simultaneously doing so anyway.
Time Stamp: May 16th 11:00a.m.
Notes: Heh.
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Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Nov 18, 2013 6:42:48 GMT -8
Jacques squinted, grumbling something as he turned to page to investigate the causes of this oddball disease. He’d never see this, so why was he reading it? For the sake of knowledge? Perhaps, but he was more or less doing it just to keep himself distracted. He didn’t need his old thoughts creeping up on him at work. Hell, he didn’t want them creeping up on him either way. That’s why he tried to keep busy until he fell asleep, practically dead of exhaustion.
He paused for a second to rub at his face with his open palms, trying to snub the exhaustion from the creases and yawning softly. Of course, momentarily distracted and making noise himself, he didn’t notice someone had crept in. Being unable to see it definitely didn’t mean anything good. In retrospect, having the door on his right side when he was blind in his right eye probably wasn’t a good thing to do in a building full of crazies.
Yes, he sincerely thought the IS building was full of crazies. He was employed by a company of insane people who wanted to hunt monsters all day, but realistically, he couldn’t blame them. He worked with the UN for a while; he’d seen worse monsters than what he got on an autopsy table. He didn’t go hunting them, though he received introductory training in that when he was a teenager. No, his job was to cut them open.
The air was still. His office was always so quiet, and he thought of grabbing the radio and playing some concertos. Anything to keep the quiet at bay.
Well, was quiet. That was until he heard a voice from behind him, and his mind immediately clicked back into what training he received in the field. Female, slightly to the right behind him and likely standing way, way too close. Jacques immediately turned to his left; it would’ve probably brought her into his line of sight quicker if he turned to his right… that was, if he could see out of that side.
She’d backed off, and he squinted at her ever so slightly, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. ”Dr. Bonheur.” He corrected quickly, raising a brow at her. Huh, he’d never seen her before, though he wouldn’t guess her a doctor for miles.
”And you are?”
May 16th, 11AM
Notes: NOPE
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Post by MIRACH DIA on Nov 19, 2013 17:16:32 GMT -8
“The local psychopath,” Mirach said automatically, dropping her arms to her sides again. He was remarkably levelheaded and calm about her presence—and it was great. Her gaze settled on one of the wooden lizard trinkets hiding out on the top of his bookshelf and her grin widened as she glanced back at him, half turned to walk over there. Eventually, she plucked it up and examined it in her hands. “Well. That’s what the mean kids call me anyway. But you can call me Mirach, if it floats your boat. Maybe you’ve heard of the Dias—I’m one of them—or maybe you haven’t. It doesn’t matter, Doc. We’re pretty much all the same under the surface: eccentric.” The point was she’d been looking into him, but she had no idea whether or not her reputation preceded her. She had not failed to notice that when he had turned instantly to look at her, he had done so on his left side, not his right. Mirach had no clue what it ultimately meant, but it meant something. Given how coolly he seemed to reacted—at least on the surface—it might be some time before she dug up any really interesting things about this man.
But to hell if she wouldn’t try. She loved a good challenge.
“Dr. Bonheur,” she said, this time daring to drop his name as correctly as possible, her eyes roving the wooden lizard in her hands, “I’m just dropping by to give my regards. Y’see I’ve been too busy to really bother as of late, and I really regret it. You and I—we’re colleagues. Of a sort,” she admitted, shrugging, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. Her gaze skipped to him again. “I thought it might be fun to discuss the trade, so to speak. I know, I know Doc. I don’t look like I work in the medical field.” She smiled. “I don’t do the whole…white coat thing.”
Or the license thing. Or the warm and fuzzy and helpful feelings thing. She set the lizard back down on the bookshelf.
“I guess,” she said thoughtfully, “you could say I’m still learning. But you’re an accomplished man. Tell me, Doc, what was your most baffling, stress-inducing case? Mine involved an airboat in the middle of the night, an alligator, a bobby pin, a switchblade and one screaming guy that wanted his arm back.”
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Post by JACQUES BONHEUR on Nov 19, 2013 20:32:58 GMT -8
The local psychopath. The local psychopath. Dear god, did everybody in this company give themselves odd nicknames? They gave him the title of ‘head IS doctor’ which was an unfortunate shortening in an unfortunate place, if nothing else. Technically, his head was a doctor, but that wasn’t the point. The rest of him was also a doctor, damn it.
Jacques didn’t react outwardly save for a slight cocking of his eyebrow, which quickly fell again. If nothing else, he was good at keeping a straight face. He just watched her in silence, waiting for her to explain herself as she seemed to suddenly grow fascinated by the wooden lizard he kept on his bookshelf. Yes, he’d always held a certain interest when it came to reptiles. He had a snake at home, and had considered getting a lizard at some point. They took so little to maintain, they weren’t needy, and they were such curious creatures.
Eccentric, indeed. ”Yes, I’ve heard of the Dias.” And she was Mirach Dia, which meant she was… Important? Was she? He’d have no idea of knowing immediately, anyways, but she was from the Dia line so he supposed she was expecting a certain degree of respect. Fine, he could pretend that. He could mock respect as much as he could mock a smile. In fact, as she was looking over the little lizard, he attempted to bring one up, only to quickly snub it from his face after realizing he was much too exhausted to bother. If she wanted a friendlier side of him, she wouldn’t have snuck up on him, then called herself a psychopath.
But colleagues. Colleagues. Were they trying to give him a heart attack? Jacques was often too busy to even get to know all the people under him but this was ridiculous. Most of the other doctors and nurses he’d kept up some respectable manner, but this woman was in a hoodie and jeans and maybe on the job.
”Oh.” He said simply; it was a noise of acknowledgement and little more. On top of everything, she certainly seemed a bit young to be a doctor. Well, still learning. Alright, that cleared up a thing or two. Or three. Maybe all of it.
”Well, glad to meet you then, Mirach Dia.” No title, not yet. As for his most stress inducing case, he let out a little snort at that. ”Well, that’s a little forward, I’d say. I’d rather have a little talk before jumping elbow deep into the blood and guts of it all.”
Even if he were to give her a case, he’d be lying anyways. His most stressful case was the one he kept most private. It had involved scarring on close to sixty percent of his body and the loss of his right eye. He wasn’t going to hand it out freely.
May 16th, 11AM
Notes: NOPE
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