burning through the rainbow ☄ flames fell into orbitworksmartNovember 8 2009, 19:00:20 UTC
The nurses in radiology are wearing 3-D specs to prevent accidental soul exposure; it's turning an ordinary PET scan into quite a trip. Chase has just stepped out of the department, aviators still neatly tucked into the top pocket of his labcoat and photographic slices of some poor cancerous bastard's chest cavity tucked into the file he needs to drop off at reception. There was a time when the last thing he ever wanted to do was set foot through hospital doors, too. Instead he let himself be packed off to med school.
Call it aversion therapy.
Anyway, back to that file. He hands it over Amory's shoulder, apparently taking no notice of his presence first in the line.
"Doctor House," he begins, eyeline not straying from the receptionist, though his tone hints at what he might have overheard, "will be in to yell about these not being done in about five minutes. Tell him he doesn't pay me to be a porter."
Then he steps back, no further comment. If he's surprised to see Amory here (and he is, stupidity and stubbornness often producing the same result) he doesn't show it. The only real indication that he's even noticed the second person in reception being that he hasn't left yet. He's not planning on it, either, standing somewhere between Amory and the glass reception wall, waiting to hear who he plans on getting referred to.
burning through the rainbow ☄ flames fell into orbitfatespokenNovember 9 2009, 02:40:29 UTC
Of course, Chase would appear right then and there, as dictated by some natural law which said Amory would be plagued perpetually by the doctor. Or at least that's what he told himself. To Amory it was also ill luck, just as it had been ill luck to have ever dropped that glass on a public stage.
He's noticed the extra emphasis tacked onto the name, but prefers to match Chase, paying no attention to the hand above his shoulder or the presence behind his back. It's his usual mode of action anyway, and certainly was better than telling him to fuck off in front of the receptionist. (Even if it would have shown exactly why they should be kept apart.) Maybe he could get that pretty Indian doctor. He was pretty sure they hadn't met before.
The receptionist takes the file with a nod, replying with some standard acknowledgment before sticking a pink post-it note on top of the file and stowing it away. She's back to sorting through the appointments and walk-ins, sunglasses making it impossible to notice that she may be glancing between the Doctor and the Kid.
"The wait will be a few hours for Dr. Sahl or really anyone else, unless..." her words hesitate as she lifts her head toward Chase. There was a reason he was still waiting and she was keen enough to acknowledge it. "Well, Dr. Chase is known to be exceptionally good with younger patients."
Either that was a jab or she had misjudged Amory's appearance by a few years; that happened often enough, whether it was at bars or when Dr. House assumed he was eighteen during their first meeting. Regardless of the reason, his jaw still clenched at her words- pulling at the headache that was there due, no surprisingly, a hangover.
burning through the rainbow ☄ flames fell into orbitworksmartNovember 9 2009, 04:58:14 UTC
Chase isn't laughing. Or, more accurately, he isn't laughing out loud. The shake in his shoulders and dip to his head - just far enough that blue eyes are obscured behind a yellow curtain - makes it very clear that he'd like to be. Of course, Amory isn't looking at him, but maybe there's a reflection in the window ahead. He steps forward again, resting a hand on Amory's shoulder in expectation of a flinch.
"I head up the juvenile care wards while I'm here. You'll fit right in," he can't resist the light pun, even if it's likely to win him the 'fuck off' Amory has so far held back. It's nice to have the praise, too. Chase does well with receptionists, they don't have to take the brunt of his temper for not doing their job right when things have gone to hell. In this city, that means the nurses get yelled at approximately every four days. And he's one of the better liked doctors.
If your name's not Amory. Contrary to appearances, he'd sooner not run the prospective patient off now that he's worked up the balls to come in, and he's aware of just how easy it could be. He certainly doesn't know if the 'kid's courage will hold up to a two hour wait.
"Look, I've got ten minutes free and I'm not allowed to tell anyone I've seen you," he tries, arms folded behind Amory's back again. "Lets do it and say we didn't."
burning through the rainbow ☄ flames fell into orbitfatespokenNovember 9 2009, 08:27:26 UTC
He more than fulfills Chase's expectations, shoulders jerking back from his grasp in a fit that's almost, if not, excessive. Maybe he's trying too hard, digging at derision that isn't there- but it doesn't matter. Amory still carries it through, setting a glower and a firm lip to the image as he turns to face Chase. Seems like he'd caught someone's amusement glaring off the window.
"I shouldn't be surprised. Do you tell them all to sit on your lap too?" he snaps back, and exchanges the glower for an accusatory stare with the quirk of an eyebrow. No, he hasn't forgotten that curse. Yes, it was a low blow, but frankly he couldn't think of anything else. He was too tired to try harder. Tired, not in the sense physical wear and tear, but the sort of tired that descends heavy on the mind, muting motivation and awareness to a shuddering effort.
"Just to let you know, I specifically asked for anyone besides you. Or House," he's shaking his head, stepping back the moment Chase attempts the friendly gesture. It isn't as harsh a movement this time, but the point is still made. And yet, Amory doesn't have the time to wait two hours (three or more even, as he knows exactly how rough rough estimations are for hospitals) when work was in two and a half. This wasn't a day to use a sick excuse either.
Call it aversion therapy.
Anyway, back to that file. He hands it over Amory's shoulder, apparently taking no notice of his presence first in the line.
"Doctor House," he begins, eyeline not straying from the receptionist, though his tone hints at what he might have overheard, "will be in to yell about these not being done in about five minutes. Tell him he doesn't pay me to be a porter."
Then he steps back, no further comment. If he's surprised to see Amory here (and he is, stupidity and stubbornness often producing the same result) he doesn't show it. The only real indication that he's even noticed the second person in reception being that he hasn't left yet. He's not planning on it, either, standing somewhere between Amory and the glass reception wall, waiting to hear who he plans on getting referred to.
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He's noticed the extra emphasis tacked onto the name, but prefers to match Chase, paying no attention to the hand above his shoulder or the presence behind his back. It's his usual mode of action anyway, and certainly was better than telling him to fuck off in front of the receptionist. (Even if it would have shown exactly why they should be kept apart.) Maybe he could get that pretty Indian doctor. He was pretty sure they hadn't met before.
The receptionist takes the file with a nod, replying with some standard acknowledgment before sticking a pink post-it note on top of the file and stowing it away. She's back to sorting through the appointments and walk-ins, sunglasses making it impossible to notice that she may be glancing between the Doctor and the Kid.
"The wait will be a few hours for Dr. Sahl or really anyone else, unless..." her words hesitate as she lifts her head toward Chase. There was a reason he was still waiting and she was keen enough to acknowledge it. "Well, Dr. Chase is known to be exceptionally good with younger patients."
Either that was a jab or she had misjudged Amory's appearance by a few years; that happened often enough, whether it was at bars or when Dr. House assumed he was eighteen during their first meeting. Regardless of the reason, his jaw still clenched at her words- pulling at the headache that was there due, no surprisingly, a hangover.
"I'm twenty-one."
No, his pride couldn't take it.
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"I head up the juvenile care wards while I'm here. You'll fit right in," he can't resist the light pun, even if it's likely to win him the 'fuck off' Amory has so far held back. It's nice to have the praise, too. Chase does well with receptionists, they don't have to take the brunt of his temper for not doing their job right when things have gone to hell. In this city, that means the nurses get yelled at approximately every four days. And he's one of the better liked doctors.
If your name's not Amory. Contrary to appearances, he'd sooner not run the prospective patient off now that he's worked up the balls to come in, and he's aware of just how easy it could be. He certainly doesn't know if the 'kid's courage will hold up to a two hour wait.
"Look, I've got ten minutes free and I'm not allowed to tell anyone I've seen you," he tries, arms folded behind Amory's back again. "Lets do it and say we didn't."
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"I shouldn't be surprised. Do you tell them all to sit on your lap too?" he snaps back, and exchanges the glower for an accusatory stare with the quirk of an eyebrow. No, he hasn't forgotten that curse. Yes, it was a low blow, but frankly he couldn't think of anything else. He was too tired to try harder. Tired, not in the sense physical wear and tear, but the sort of tired that descends heavy on the mind, muting motivation and awareness to a shuddering effort.
"Just to let you know, I specifically asked for anyone besides you. Or House," he's shaking his head, stepping back the moment Chase attempts the friendly gesture. It isn't as harsh a movement this time, but the point is still made. And yet, Amory doesn't have the time to wait two hours (three or more even, as he knows exactly how rough rough estimations are for hospitals) when work was in two and a half. This wasn't a day to use a sick excuse either.
"Fine. If it's just ten minutes, I guess."
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