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With a bit of time to spare before he was due for his shift in the clinic, Coop decided to make a stop in the rec room to visit the evil bookshelf. Sitting and waiting for an interesting case to fall into his lap got old pretty fast, so books kept him busy while he waited. It was that, or spend the majority of the shift twiddling his thumbs with

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Daisy's not a hugger. Well, she might be, but hugging usually turns to something else, so she never really stops long enough to peruse her stance on hugging. All she knows is that when it's not ending and not turning into anything else, she holds up her arms in defeat. "Honey, you're wrinkling my dress," she says mildly.

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"Oh, Jeez. I'm- I'm sorry," Coop stammered as he finally released her. But he wasn't, not really. Not for being happy, anyway. "Uh, about the dress," he clarified.

"I don't think I hurt it too badly."

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Daisy just smirks and gives him a passing wave of her hand. "There's always new dresses," she assures, because this man she knows vaguely and well heck, it's as much human contact as she's had since she went recluse when suddenly her Max and Jude were gone. "Now what's the occasion for all the grabbing?"

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"I made the top twenty-five list of best doctors back home in Manhattan!" Coop told her, wiggling the magazine in front of himself, bright smile quickly returning. "See? Number twenty-three."

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Daisy just quirks a smile as she leans in to peer at the pages, flicking at them to try and coax him to open it up. "Well, then, if a handsome hotshot like you is number twenty-three, who's number one?" Which is a very fair curiosity, she thinks. After all, it'll help Coop strive for more.

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"Some Agdere, MD guy. Pediatrics. Pffft. Can you believe that?" Coop said, flipping back open to the list.

Pulling pennies out of noses and clearing up diaper-rash? He liked kids as much as anyone, but handing that guy the number one slot stung a little. Maybe if the guy had been a brain surgeon or something, then it might have sat a little better with him. "I'd like to see him take on a Friday night ER shift."

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Daisy wrinkles her nose at that, because of course doctors are needed for everyone and everyone deserves to be treated, but children are just so snotty and dirty. "But I'm sure he's got some very dulled hearing with all that screaming," she says with disdain. "Children," she announces, shuddering her shoulders.

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"I take it you're not a fan?" It wasn't like she was being subtle about it. The only real trouble Coop had ever had with kids was when he was one himself. Kids were just pain mean. Now, though, he was mostly free from the daily bouts of teasing and he was willing to bet that all the kids who used to pick on him for his Tourette's and his lesbian moms had never had their names published in a magazine for anything even remotely important.

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"I just don't think that children and I have a very compatible lifestyle. Their hands constantly emit goo," she says very seriously, holding both palms up and shuddering, as though she can't bear to think about all the jam and paint that comes from them.

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Absently, Coop glanced down to check his own hands. He wasn't a kid, but he had manhandled her dress a bit ago and he would have hated to have left anything on the back of it.

"Nothing wrong with that. And don't let anyone ever attempt to convince you otherwise," he urged. He knew after a certain age society put pressure on women, made them feel like they had to settle down and procreate or The Talking started. Island society was very, very small compared to the real world, but he thought it could have still applied.

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"Trust me, they have tried," Daisy assures with a breezy smirk. She's almost a hundred years old, of course she's thought about kids, but the thought of a child dying before her? Well, that's just the kind of cruel that she doesn't want to go into depth on. "And what about you? Kids in your future?"

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"Hah. Probably not anywhere in the near future. I'm still having issues just taking care of a dog." The dog he tended to lose track of for hours at a time... Like now. If he did that with a baby that would have just been viewed as neglect. "Not sure I like the idea of potentially raising a kid without my moms anywhere nearby, either."

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"That's very sweet," Daisy says and for a moment she's not sure if she ought to be sarcastic or whether it's just fine to allow some sincerity to trickle through. Good god in heaven, has sixty years of being dead fucked her up. "I don't even remember my parents."

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"Because you've been stuck here for so long or did they... you know, when you were younger?" The idea of being stuck on this island to the point of not being able to remember his moms sort of freaked him out. A lot.

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"I haven't seen them in decades," is her all-too-honest response, but given that she's not exactly a spring chicken of a teenager anymore, she's not exactly lying if he wants to presume that she's just as normal as anyone else. "Things fade. Faster than I'd like."

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"I'm sorry," he said quietly and he suddenly misses his moms more than he had since he'd been stuck on that island. As great as the magazine was, it really would have been ten times better with them around to make a fuss the way they always tended to do.