Friday afternoon clinic post
Until a few days ago Harry was perfectly happy to explore his surroundings and spend plenty of time on the beach and in the sea. He'd especially liked the look of the ship called 'Dawn Treader', even if he hadn't yet been able to bring himself to see about boarding her.
But then there was, well, something strange going on. It couldn't be people in other people's bodies because that just wasn't possible. Except something very similar had clearly happened and Harry's world no longer made sense any more.
However, he was happy in the clinic. The advantage of having a shift of his own meant he could spend as much time as he liked poking around to see what was there. There were plenty of patient files to look through, to see what sorts of things he was likely to need to treat, and stock to evaluate too. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised at the amount of things he'd found on a desert island no one could leave (at least, not by choice) or disappointed by the number of things they didn't have. It looked like there were some illnesses and accidents he'd have to hope never happened.
At least doing this job, hanging around in the clinic, reminded him of his last posting in Faslane. When there weren't emergencies to deal with it could be quite quiet, so Harry was used to finding useful things to do with himself.
ooc: This is your Friday afternoon clinic post. Fill in a form at island_medical if you have a pup in need of medical attention, or just come and chat to Harry. He's (permanently) confused, but perfectly friendly.
But then there was, well, something strange going on. It couldn't be people in other people's bodies because that just wasn't possible. Except something very similar had clearly happened and Harry's world no longer made sense any more.
However, he was happy in the clinic. The advantage of having a shift of his own meant he could spend as much time as he liked poking around to see what was there. There were plenty of patient files to look through, to see what sorts of things he was likely to need to treat, and stock to evaluate too. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised at the amount of things he'd found on a desert island no one could leave (at least, not by choice) or disappointed by the number of things they didn't have. It looked like there were some illnesses and accidents he'd have to hope never happened.
At least doing this job, hanging around in the clinic, reminded him of his last posting in Faslane. When there weren't emergencies to deal with it could be quite quiet, so Harry was used to finding useful things to do with himself.
ooc: This is your Friday afternoon clinic post. Fill in a form at island_medical if you have a pup in need of medical attention, or just come and chat to Harry. He's (permanently) confused, but perfectly friendly.