(Untitled)

[jesus_h_cox]

God damn it, Dr. Cox needed his own hut.

As his eyes slid over supply lists and patient's names, this is what he was thinking, over and over. Living college-style was absolutely ridiculous, and he'd hated it in college, so he hated it even more, now. Not to mention his roommate or bunkmate or whatever was a stark raving psycho and not in that

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[shot_my_shoes]

If Harry had thought about it much he might have been worried that when he was bored he went to work. Or to the clinic at least. It didn't mean there was anything to do necessarily, especially given that if he wasn't there it meant someone was doing their shift. But it did give him an opportunity to talk to other doctors.

"Afternoon," he said to the man sat at the table. "Anything interesting in the paper?"

[jesus_h_cox]

"Dr. Sullivan," Dr. Cox greeted without looking up. He had a sixth sense, knowing people were standing there before they even spoke, and he was so rarely wrong, so he just went with it. And he didn't know Dr. Sullivan (as far as he was concerned, his first name was "Doctor"), but he was a doctor in the same almost-lab that Cox now was, so that eliminated any degree of separation enough.

"Let's see... weeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, a whole lot of politics and somebody got traded to Arizona." He tossed the paper away in symbolic disgust. "Sounds like the beginning of football season to me, and all that pesky election crap. Are we done making smalltalk or should I just go ahead and give you that complimentary reach around while we're standing here?" He was sitting. That wasn't the point.

[If any of this is not OK, let me know and I'll happily change it. :)]

[shot_my_shoes]

Harry smiled as the man greeted him, but frowned at his description of the contents of the paper. It was confusing trying to match up the time here to when he was last home - not least because by all appearances he was many years in the future.

In an attempt to be congenial, despite the way the other man acted, he said, "I'm more of a rugby man myself." Not that he'd really followed it much recently, and anything could have happened since the seventies anyway.

ooc: oh, no, this is different and different is good!

[jesus_h_cox]

Huh. Despite the fact that Dr. Cox had been blatantly rude and crude and even slightly unglued, Dr. Sullivan wasn't terribly phased. He came off as sort of oblivious with a touch of above-it-all, and really, that wasn't so bad. Hell, it kind of reminded Dr. Cox of the only person he called 'friend' back home.

"Good violent sport. Not that I've ever met a single America who could understand it, myself included, but it looks violent and manly, verging on homoerotic. Now, if that isn't sports, then I don't know what is." He slapped the paper down on the table and curled his arms behind his head.

[shot_my_shoes]

He had to agree with the assessment of Americans not understanding rugby, but then Harry had never got to grips with American football, so he could hardly complain about that. But he could, and would complain about something else though.

"It is not homoerotic in the slightest." He folded his arms and didn't make a move towards sitting down.

[jesus_h_cox]

"Oh, it's not?" Dr. Cox over-emphasized, sitting forward on the desk in a way that said game on. "Well, by all means, Doc, explain away." A little testosterone never hurt anybody and being uncessarily incendiary was just the way Dr. Cox rolled.

[shot_my_shoes]

Harry raised his eyebrows, but sat down. It wasn't an easy thing to explain without knowing where he was getting the homoerotic idea from. He could guess, though. "I'm not sure what you think goes on in a scrum, but I assure you it isn't an opportunity to touch anyone inappropriately."

[jesus_h_cox]

"Iiiit's called a 'scrum' for one thing," Dr. Cox said. "Which, I hate to say it, Dr. Sullivan, but sounds an awful lot like 'scrotum.'" He nooded somberly, standing to make his point... and be taller than the other. "Now, I know this must be very, very hard for you, but seeing as our resident psych expert has magically disappeared off the face of this very Hellhole, I'm gonna write you a perscription for Cry Me A River."

[shot_my_shoes]

"There are many things that sound like something else, yet have nothing to do with them." Harry wished he had the OED somewhere to hand so he could look up the origins of scrum because he'd love to prove him wrong.

Harry refused to be intimidated. He'd seen more threatening things than a man. "I don't need a prescription, thank you," he said, amiably. "But if you want, I'll leave you to read the paper."