Preoccupations

[rpondicus]

WHO Rory Williams and you.
WHAT Open Post
WHERE The Hostel (Particularly the Clinic and the 6th floor), around town, the library, and the hospital. Or anywhere in between.
WHEN Tuesday-Saturday
NOTES Put where and/or when you're running into him in your header, s'il vous plait.
WARNINGS None yet?

It wasn't right, being stuck here. It wasn't right,

Comments

Hostel Clinic, any day before Saturday

[probingtime]

Getting ready for the beach party wasn't as simple as throwing a few coolers together and calling it a day. This was going to be a big thing; hell, Paul'd practically invited the whole city. Of course, the fact that it was BYOB and BYOS - bring your own snacks - helped, but Paul took care of his friends. Even those who hadn't met him yet. So he'd been stocking up on booze and other party essentials - hot dogs for the bonfires, chips, a couple card tables to lay things out - and then, of course, there was the baking.

He'd been baking more or less nonstop for a couple days, making a massive batch of brownies for the party. Special brownies, naturally. And it was impossible to avoid injury, working around a hot oven for that long, and unfortunately, Paul's ability to heal didn't include healing himself. So he meandered down to the clinic, reeking of weed and sporting a burned hand that was going to need some looking at.

Thursday, then?

[rpondicus]

Rory was alone in the clinic for a bit, reading a procedures manual. They're as dull as he remembered them being, but he was out of practice, and needed to get out of the habit of thinking of which herbs and poultices he'd need to replicate the 21st century medical supplies that... were actually available here. He was quick to look up when someone entered, and quick to stare.

"... Hi."

works for me!

[probingtime]

"Hey." Staring was, at least, way better than fainting. "Let's get this out of the way, alright? Hi, I'm Paul, yes I'm an alien." He held his hand up then, the gray skin a bit darker in patches. "Couldn't find a first aid kit in the apartment. You got anything for minor burns?" He'd have to make a note to actually remember to grab some bandaids and things next time he was out.

[rpondicus]

"You don't look like... sorry. yeah. Yes, of course." He closed the binder and stood, reaching automatically for a pair of gloves. "Let me get a look at it?"

[probingtime]

He didn't look like what? An alien? That was a new one. Alright, so he knew there were multiple universes and different realities and all that sort of thing, but he was pretty used to being The Alien. There was a reason alien head bumper stickers and pencil erasers and notebooks and who only knew what else looked a lot like him, after all.

"I don't think it's anything too major," he said, holding his out. "And I'd fix it myself, but unfortunately it's kind of a one-way street, you know?" That probably didn't make sense, he realized, after a moment. "I can heal things," he clarified. "Just not myself."

[rpondicus]

"Really?" He glanced up from the hand, interested, but his attention was already on the mild burn. "No, this isn't bad... I think." You're not exactly the usual patient, Paul. He scooted his rolly chair back, opening the cupboard with the ointment, and paused. "... You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

[probingtime]

"You think?" Paul asked, his tone gently teasing. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the clinic guy had probably never seen anyone like him before. "If you give me the wrong stuff, man, my head could swell up and explode." A pause, and he added, "I'm kidding. I'm not allergic to anything."

[rpondicus]

"Hey, I'm just a nurse. And the last really alien alien I met - well, she wasn't an alien, she was from Earth, just not human." He shook his head, back on topic. "Bad reaction to a stun gun. Really bad. So, you know, you never know." Awkwardly, he gestured with the burn ointment, and then uncapped it to spread a bit on the burn.

[probingtime]

That explained why the guy hadn't fainted, anyway. There seemed to be an awful lot of people around here who'd had some previous experience with extraterrestrial life. Not that Paul was complaining about that. It definitely made things a lot easier for him, anyway. "Hey, I appreciate it, man." His hand would be sore for a couple days, but burn ointment was definitely better than nothing. "Met a lot of aliens?"

[rpondicus]

"Best to leave this uncovered, unless you need to use that hand." He offered him the rest of the small tube, once he'd recapped it. "And yeah, a few. Not recently, though. Unless dragons count."

[probingtime]

"I've still got some baking to do, actually, so if you wouldn't mind tossing a bandage on it, that'd be great." He did take the tube of ointment, though, and slipped it in the pocket of his shorts. "So are you from the future, or did your Earth just happen to be friendly with the neighbors?"

[rpondicus]

"Ah, neither." He had to look to find the bandages, opening the cupboard by the clinic's little sink. "Have you met the Doctor?"

[probingtime]

"I didn't think the burn was that bad," Paul replied, before adding, "Can't say I have. Is that a title or a name?"

[rpondicus]

"Title. I think. He's just the Doctor. He's an alien, too. Just... doesn't really look like it. I used to travel with him, a long time ago."

[probingtime]

"Doesn't look like it to you," Paul corrected, still grinning. "He's humanoid, huh?"

[rpondicus]

"Yeah, that." He shrugged. "Oh, here they are... Plain or do you want the one with... little alien heads on it. Really?" he asked the inanimate cupboard.