(Untitled)

[championoftime]

Who: The Seventh Doctor
What: Phantom Death Toll Pains
When: Early Saturday
Where: In the hallway on the second floor
Warnings & Notes: Nothing planned. Mostly I wanted to get him a little new CR.

Comments

[no_fastolfe]

Vasilia didn't like traversing the slowly degrading corridors, full of people. She liked it less when the lights failed, but sometimes it was unavoidable--

-and sometimes she met people who were not simply hostile strangers but people to whom there was a measure of professional (perhaps even emotional) attachment.

One such had just collapsed against the wall.

"Doctor Smith!" she cried, hurrying to his side.

[I am sorry, she's not new CR. :( But she <3s him sort of?]

Is coo'

[championoftime]

"AHHhh... Oh! Vasilia! I- I'm alright, I assure you!" He levelled his voice to the best of his ability, but he didn't sound alright. A quick pat of his chest, his hand resting over his hearts, made him consider it more deeply.

He gave her a quick, darting smile that settled out of the cringe that wanted to crease up his strange little features. "Odd bit of phantom pain occurred there."

[no_fastolfe]

Her hands fluttered, and then hesitantly she reached out with two fingers, protected by her light plasticine gloves, to find the pulse point that Dr. Jones had checked. And then he looked at her, and she pulled her hand back as if she had made an imposition.

"It something in the environment? Perhaps due to this decay, a metal particle, a spore from the deck-- should you go the infirmary?"

Another helpless gesture of her fingers-- a quite specific one that would have called Nadilla or any of her household robots if they had not already hurried to assist a human-looking individual in distress.

Of course, the robot did not come, the gesture merely a tic at that point, and after a moment of indecision she squared her jaw and offered him one of her slim, gloved hands.

[championoftime]

With a loud exhale, he waved her hand away and felt the pain subside. "No, not a spore." Then another laugh. Sad and dry, trailing off into him leaving his eyes shut briefly again and then straightening his hat.

"Recall when I told you how I died? ...That's what I felt. The pain related to it. Nothing quite so alarming as spontaneously having the sensation of perforations that are no longer present."

As if he were trying to jostle water out of his ears, he shook and turned himself back towards the infirmary.

[no_fastolfe]

"Oh-- oh. But what if the event recurs?" she said, turning to follow him. "What if you were hurt? I'm coming with you," she said, rather stubbornly. "Whatever errands you have I can assist with, I'm sure."

[championoftime]

"I'm not hurt. I'm... fairly sure I'm not hurt... Mostly I'm determined to examine myself with a scanning device to be entirely sure that I'm not hurt."

It was throbbing, though. His entire torso. All those gunshot wounds, radiating little pangs of discomfort. But he knew how people were, and he didn't try any harder to shoo at her because if they had a mind to they'd follow anyway.

[no_fastolfe]

"And unless you object to me seeing, I can help with that," she said briskly, falling in beside him with her chin lifted. It wasn't all kindness-- it had startled her, and for another little while she wanted to borrow the Doctor's company, not to be alone.

[championoftime]

"You don't have to help me, I can do perfectly fine on... my... own," he trailed off as he looked at his journal to see if anyone had said anything.

He looked to Vasilia, despite all the hurt, expression bordering on tragic with eyes that rivalled the saddest hound.

"....My brother is gone. His room is still here, though. So that's good."

[no_fastolfe]

"Oh," she said, mired in the horror of her own failure to handle other people's emotions with any aplomb. "Oh. I'm very sorry, Doctor Smith." Her hands flexed again, a dozen un-received ,messages to absent aids.