(closed RP for Henry Winter and Stephen Maturin)

[estebanmd]

Stephen had rather wanted to talk with Henry Winter at length, if for no other reason than to cement his hopeful deduction that Henry's recent wedding had well and truly laid to rest the remnants of old animosity concerning the woman who was now Mrs. Winter. Unfortunately, there had simply been no time for conversation. Stephen had brought little

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[estebanmd]

Yes, he did want to go look at bugs. That was what he would have argued, had he approached her without invitation or conversational preface. It was not, however, the context in which she had framed the topic, her willingness to share the potion -- her desire, even, to share it. Caught between potential arguments -- for science vs. for you -- he could not offer an answer without somehow being stranded and exposed, high and dry atop a summit of selfishness. He wanted the potion for himself.

For her, though, too, if it made her feel better; why should it not benefit her in that way? That was what she claimed she wanted. He had explained, just now, how the logic of such comfort did not hold, how giving someone else a temporary approximation of her senses would not give her the company she craved, and she still wanted to do it all the same. So why should the proposition turn on him -- turn against him?

He opted to avoid, or defer, the question entirely, tackling instead another thing she had said. "It may be of some interest to discern exactly what it is that has befallen Shaun. Henry tells me Camilla has no desire whatsoever to take that potion again, having taken it once. Were the substance to induce a real physical dependence, that ought not to be possible for her."

[usethepoker]

His evasion of the question did not go unnoticed. It had not occurred to Susan that Stephen might offer to take it so she wouldn't be so lonely for a while, but she wondered now. It would be like him, she thought, to undertake the equivalent of poisoning himself for his friends (though the fact that said poison was attractively packaged as sensory enhancement did make it far from a terrible proposition).

She considered this, cheek still rested against her knee. Her skirt smelled of whatever fabric softener the house elves used--sweet, tumble-dried cotton. "You have a point," she said. "It could well be simply the sensory experience itself, rather than the potion, that is addictive. A psychological addiction." Kind of like marijuana, a drug Liz had had her try, and about which she'd been told quite a bit, too.

[estebanmd]

Modern psychological lingo was quite foreign to Stephen. The concept of psychology as a discipline had not yet come to fruition in his day. Thus he simply nodded at the words Susan had assembled. "If by psychological addiction you mean a dependence that is imagined rather than a dependence with direct anatomical consequence, then I might agree," he said. "That is not to say that such a dependence might not seem extraordinarily real and gripping to the person so dependent. It is only to say that you may not have done the physical harm you fear. I should like to ask Camilla more about her lack of desire to repeat the experience, except that such inquiry might be unwelcome, perhaps even indelicate. I am not her physician, after all."

[usethepoker]

"That's it exactly," she said. "Unfortunately, it would be little less indelicate coming from me, or I'd ask. From what I know of Shaun, though, he's mentally addicted to all sorts of things. After all, he's not actually an alcoholic; he just likes to drink. The fried food and bad kung fu movies are the same thing, I think; he's become so used to having them there that he would miss them if they weren't."

Who knew but that it might help, too, knowing that--help her with easing Shaun off the stuff. "I admit, it would relieve me if it truly isn't an actual physical dependence. Mental craving, while unfortunate, isn't so damaging as physical." Which showed how little Susan knew of physical or mental craving, really. "Maybe I'll send him to Molly," she added, thoughtfully, wholly unaware that Stephen had met Molly and would thus have serious doubts about the woman's effectiveness as a counselor.

Susan actually sat up, then, perching Indian-style in the chair. "You've taken it, or something similar--which would you say?" Rather unfortunately, she'd gotten so into the habit of asking things For Science that it didn't always occur to her that some of them maybe shouldn't actually be asked aloud.

[estebanmd]

Stephen coughed. It was indeed something of an awkward question; yet the conversation was a scientific one, a medical one, and in no way to be taken as touching on matters personal.

"I would say," he chose his words with care, "that you should give serious thought to the question of what you gain by giving people this potion; and that, if you still find you wish to give it to people, you ought to give it only to those people whom you believe capable of staving off such a dependence."

There. That was general enough.

[usethepoker]

Was it terribly selfish of her, to want to give it out? Susan had started the whole idea in the spirit of creating a gift to be given, but was that really what had motivated it? Or did she just want someone else to know what it was she knew, so she wouldn't be so damned alone? That joy it had given her, in watching what it did to Shaun--how amazed he was by it--was probably not a wholly selfless thing: she was happy it was amazing for him, but also that now he knew, in a small way, what it was like to be her. She wanted what she knew she couldn't have--to have other people be what she was, or at least as close an approximation as she could give.

But it didn't just benefit her, did it? It wasn't like she was foisting off an unpleasant lie. It hadn't worked with Henry and Camilla, true, but then she hadn't been there with them; Shaun loved it, and given the chance to explore, Stephen likely would, too. Susan wanted to give it to him--wanted to terribly--and while she was not good at lying to herself, her brain was already trying to cook up compelling rationales and excuses. Stephen was a scientist by nature, and this was definitely something worth studying; he'd very likely find the outside world wholly fascinating with her senses, whether he look at an interesting bug or just the sky. It would be a mutually beneficial thing: she could have his company, knowing he felt as she did, and he could geek out to his heart's content.

It all made sense. If she told herself that enough, she just might believe it.

Psychological addiction, she reminded herself. Psychological, not physical. Yes, this is a bad idea, but it's not as bad as I thought it was. Really.

"I would give it to you again," she said, at last, "if you wanted it. I trust you, and--well, you understand, better than anyone else. You more than anyone can have a sense of what it is to be like me, and stupid as it might be, that makes me feel like I'm not completely alone." It wasn't real, and she knew it wasn't, but that didn't change anything for her.

[estebanmd]

"Good," he said. "We shall document it."

For science. Of course.

[usethepoker]

Susan found herself at once relieved and guilty. "You pack up everything you want to take out and get a coat and gloves--I'll bring along a notebook." The selfish part of her might be selfish, but even it couldn't get in the way of the legitimate For Science portion of the proceedings. She really did want to see what he would make of everything outside, particularly the sunset, which wasn't far away. "It's got to be well below freezing now, so do make sure your coat is quite warm. I think I'll bring along a Thermos of tea, too."

Yes, Susan. Because this is so like going to spend a day in the park.

She summoned a house elf and despatched it to her room, first arming it with a one-time spell to get in through all her wards. It reappeared a minute or so later, bearing her cloak, gloves, scarf, notebook and pen, hot Thermos, and the small neat bottle of potion that had until now been residing at the back of her bookshelf. After blinking at the lot for a moment, she sent it back for a rucksack.

[estebanmd]

Stephen had certain habits and certain biases. Taking a drug -- a medication, a potion -- seemed to him the most natural thing in the world, much more so than the way in which Susan had conferred upon him her unusual senses Halloween night. Therefore, he had fewer qualms than he probably ought, and they were far outweighed by a giddy anticipation.

He would have claimed he needed no reminder concerning cold-weather gear. The truth was, he probably did need a reminder. What he really needed was Preserved Killick to follow him around and make sure he dressed properly for all occasions. In any event, he went off to his room himself to gather the necessary accoutrements, and returned to the office having added to his existing attire a hideously lumpy sweater under a shoddy overcoat.

(Killick would have cursed whatever unfortunate person told Stephen about thrift stores.)

He thought a moment.

"I ought to take the potion here, before we go out of doors. If I have an adverse reaction or a reaction in any way unexpected, better by far that it be here."

[usethepoker]

Susan would be the first to admit she had almost no sense of fashion, but even she had to eyeball the sweater. Warmth was what counted, though, or so she thought as she pulled on her cloak and scarf--besides, her own cloak, though heavy and neatly hemmed by the house elves, had nevertheless seen better days. Her scarf was thick and her gloves were first-rate, however, even if they were, naturally, black--all of it together combined to give a vague impression that someone had taken her grandfather and hacked two feet off his height.

She stowed her own things--notebook, pen, Thermos--in her rucksack, quite grateful that Shaun had told her about Muggle pens, which were much easier to cart around than quill and ink.

"Probably a good idea," she said, uncorking the bottle. "I'm cutting this dose, to start with--Shaun's taller and heavier than you, so I'm going to try you at three-quarters of his usual." The doses were small enough to begin with--a set of measuring spoons was extracted from a pocket, and two teaspoonfuls poured into a small ceramic cup. "You might want to sit down, too," she suggested, handing him the cup. "And let me know if you feel sick, or dizzy--sometimes, if it does that to Shaun, water helps."

It oughtn't make Stephen sick, she thought. What she'd forced in through his skin hadn't, after all, and that was definitely a more traumatic form of delivery. She wanted to make damn sure it didn't throw him for a loop, though, if such a thing were at all possible.

[estebanmd]

At first nothing happened. "You have done well to make the stuff taste horrible," he told her approvingly. Stephen had always liked to make medicine smell and taste as awful as possible; he firmly believed this strengthened the patient's faith in the medicine's efficacy.

He thought the potion might take a little while to affect him. What she had done on Halloween had been so very much more direct. Likely a potion would work more slowly, more gradually --

And then it hit his bloodstream. It was like being rushed by a bull elephant in musth. He was glad Susan warned him to sit down.

Eyes screwed shut, Stephen raised a hand to his temple, unsteadily, as though he needed to check whether his head was still in one piece.

"Sweet Mother of God."

[usethepoker]

Susan had a much more practical reason for making it taste terrible: if it was disgusting, people would be less likely to want to just drink it right off. Having taken very little medicine in her life until she'd come to Hogwarts, it would never have occurred to her to equate taste with potential benefit.

She could practically see it hit him, much as it had always hit Shaun--though Stephen at least didn't fall out of his chair. She let him sit for a moment--let him regather his equillibrium as best he could. It always took Shaun some moments to recover, as it were, so she stood quiet, letting the potion balance out within his senses.

"Are you all right?" she asked at last, when she thought he'd had enough time to sit reeling.

[estebanmd]

"That remains to be seen," he answered honestly. "Give me a moment, if you will," and he grabbed the quill and ink with which he'd been making marginalia earlier, along with a spare sheet of parchment.

He scribbled, unceremoniously and without explanation or polite comment of any kind to Susan, for a minute or two.

Then he stopped, stared out into space, let the quill fall from his fingers, and with the index finger of his left hand, rubbed at a clean corner of the parchment, rapt in its texture.

[usethepoker]

Ah. Susan didn't even have to try to read his writing upside down to know what he was doing--of course Stephen would want to record all the initial sensations that came with the potion. She wondered if he'd let her read it later.

Accordingly she gave him his moment, leaning her shoulder against the tall back of the armchair and smiling faintly as she watched. Parchment really did feel peculiar, though apparently not normally half so peculiar to most people as it did to her. Watching Stephen made her half wish she had an iconograph, to document all this. Ah well, she could take notes. His curiosity was still so very Stephen--just much, much more so, and she actually laughed quietly at his fascination, rather delighted at the sight of it.

[estebanmd]

"This is not real parchment, you know," Stephen told Susan from what seemed like a great distance. "It is not made of the skins of animals. That would in any case be monstrously wasteful. This is a kind of paper made to resemble parchment, quite sensibly. Have you been accustomed to use parchment on the Discworld, honey-lamb? You would recognize the differences at once. The two sides of a parchment sheet are of different color, at times, even, and certainly of different grain: the hair side of the animal's skin, and the flesh side, are discernible one from another. The grain of paper must of necessity be a more regular contrivance ..." He trailed off and chuckled ruefully. "I could stare at this for far too long, I think. Shall we away?"

[usethepoker]

Susan had to cover her mouth, to muffle her quiet laughter. Yes, it was working, all right; working quite well, really. Getting Stephen out into the hallway might be quite a project, let alone getting him outside. She smothered a smile.

"No, we've got something rather like this, actually," she said, swinging her rucksack up over her shoulder. "In Ankh-Morpork and most of the cities on the Sto Plains, at least. I think some of the mountain people still use parchment, because paper can be so expensive to transport."

Her smile returned. "Come on, then," she said. "I promise you, if you think the parchment's fascinating, just wait until you get outside. Shaun says it's absolutely amazing--when I first started giving him the potion, he'd sit for hours and stare at a tree, just to watch the light move." It really was a pity that the potion tended to have no more than a forty-eight hour duration--though actually perhaps it wasn't, because if it went on too long, Stephen might well wind up so enthralled by the world that he'd forget to go to sleep. "Do you need me to carry anything?"