She was resting on her stomach, arms splayed across to silken bedsheets with a complete air of laziness. Idly, Minatsuki dragged her nails across the light sheets, creating slight marking patterns along the bedspread which she then proceeded to erase with a swipe of her palm. God, she was bored, and in all honesty her stomach had been acting up for
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"Mixed up the rooms." Not quite the truth, but close enough for comfort. The smoke from his cigarette curled up toward the ceiling. He took another two or three steps inside, against his better judgment. In fact, against all his intentions, period. "How are you, Minatsuki?"
(OOC: Augh, couldn't resist ending up with someone just as unenthusiastic about it as him. >.> How about option b, but he doesn't know? Yet, at any rate, haha.)
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"I'm sick," she responded harshly before forcing a smile. "And you, shit for brains?"
[ooc: i'm glad you couldn't resist~! x3 i look forward to this thread~]
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And much as he didn't take his job seriously, he was far from incompetent, and all-too-practiced at using his abilities for his own gain: the promise of gratitude, and sex.
"You lucked out. I'm a doctor." He crossed over toward her without another word, putting his hand on her forehead. No fever. He almost always healed by touch alone but there was nothing wrong that he could detect yet, and his hand slid down, feeling her cheekbones, jaw, throat. Nothing. "Tell me what hurts."
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Her stomach rumbled and she winced, clenching her jaw. "My...stomach. But I don't want you touching it, got it!"
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He stopped himself. That uncanny feeling hit him again, that he was wrong, that something was badly wrong with this scenario. He looked at her abdomen - what little he could see of it, anyway, that wasn't covered up by her hands. He stared at her, stubbed his lit cigarette out between his finger and thumb, with almost no indication of pain on his face. "Minatsuki, if you're not going to let me touch it, at least let me see."
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She debated demanding he get out - leave her alone to wallow in her misery and pain - but... No. She just couldn't; not really. She wanted help and as much as she would never admit it, the teen cautiously moved her arms stiffly from her stomach. It was swollen, engorged, and her breasts were swollen and tender. Minatsuki was very uncomfortable, but reclined on the bedspread, resting her hands on the sheets behind her and leaning backwards. Her expression was utterly pissed, if not slightly scared and sickly. "There," she scoffed, exposing her belly for his inspection.
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"You're pregnant." What was more, it looked like she was in at least the second trimester. He gnawed his lip, tried to will detachment into his tone. "The last time I saw you, you weren't showing at all. You couldn't have, that fast. It's not possible. Whose is it?"
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"I just woke up like this." That was...well it seemed like a lie. It felt like she had been pregnant for longer than that, but she couldn't put a date to the exact date of conception. As for his other question, she couldn't exactly answer that when she herself didn't know, and the teen had just opened her mouth to say as much with a vehement passion (as if her supposed child being a bastard was a good thing). "I don't kno - it's yours."
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Raphael's tendency to at least act contained and completely, overbearingly in control was starting to fray. Fast. His gaze kept going from the pillow to her face, dread and disgust filling his insides. It couldn't be his. It didn't make a single bit of sense, physically.
Yet there was something in the way she said it that made him know she wasn't lying, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. He rubbed his hand against his forehead in utter agitation, more at himself than her. He hadn't been careful, but he hadn't had to be, either, not with the way the hotel normally acted, and now -
"We need to talk about this." He slumped on top of the bed without so much as asking beforehand.
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"I don't want it," Minatsuki voiced with slight stubborn finality. "Kill it."
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"All right. Trust me when I say that it's a lot better this way." His gene pool was an inhuman mess, but he didn't see the need to elaborate when she already wanted to get rid of it. Only one trouble here that he could already spy, but he admitted it so blandly that it seemed more like a dry statement. "I don't think any of the hospital wings around carry that kind of equipment."
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"You could beat me," she suggested, trying to sound disinterested as she straightened her back, twisting around to blink at him. Minatsuki motioned in the general direction of her stomach. "Across here. That kills...these sort of things, doesn't it?"
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"That's barbaric. Humans have gotten themselves killed pulling stunts like that. Is that what you want?" He could heal her from it, but as far as he was concerned, that was beside the point. What she was suggesting disgusted him professionally. Raphael's words were low, quiet, but the harshness to his tone was unmistakable. "I won't do it."
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In vain, she gestured at her swollen midsection. "You want me to do it myself? Because that won't be the worse thing that I've done, you know. This is - this is -!" Both hands flew to her head and her thin, spindly fingers fisted in her hair. "THIS IS STUPID! AND ALL YOUR FAULT!" And she picked a lamp from the bedside table with a flourish and hurled it at him.
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"Stop acting like such a little girl! We'll take care of this!" Raphael shouted, insisted, turning to her and grabbing both her wrists. In the space of the last few minutes, he'd lost his control, badly, and the worst part was that now he realized it. His attention was shot enough that his focus on the lamp dropped, causing it to fall to the floor, shattering into dozens of ceramic pieces.
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"I don't want a baby! I don't want - I don't want it! Mother's are - mother's are useless little shits who don't love their children and I don't want to have to pretend! AND GET OFF OF ME YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" She was rapidly losing any cool she'd maintained.
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