[Open post] Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.

[doctor_pascal]

Over the past few weeks, Pascal has been obsessively reading, noting, compiling. His teaching sessions with Fuchsia brought on some curiosity about organ transplants. From there, he stumbled into some disturbing reports which have kept him awake at night, disturbed his sleep and eating habits

Comments

[thistle_muncher]

Something might shuffle under the table, then there might be a very soft thump and an irritated "H'oh!" that sounds almost like a donkey braying.

If Pascal peeks under the table, he'll spy a small creature that looks a bit like a donkey, poking irritably at a leg of the table with one hoof. But the shape of the creature isn't right: it's too soft to be a real donkey.

[doctor_pascal]

Just what the. No, really. What. The.

Pascal finds himself sitting up and standing, then reaching for the crowbar and pushing the table away. Books and notes fly off, and he holds the crowbar up, ready to strike.

Eeyore probably has time to stop him with his superpower of cuteness, though.

[thistle_muncher]

Eeyore stares around at the table falling away and the books and papers flying about: he's Wary and Confused and perhaps A Little Scared, and he might shuffle aside. But he looks up at Pascal. "Didn't mean to startle you. That table leg was More Solid than I thought: my head found that out the hard way," he says, with his usual surprisingly deep, deadpan voice.

[doctor_pascal]

OMGWTF. No, really. But it talks, and therefore is not a zombie. Pascal's hand stills over his madly beating heart, and he pants a little.

"--- Mon dieu, what -- are you?"

[ichbinzillah]

Zillah might be walking by on her way to the library (figures) when she sees Pascal, and stops.

"...Why the crowbar?" she asks, a little concerned.

[doctor_pascal]

"-- as a safety measure, Mademoiselle," Pascal replies, and feels immediately stupid for answering truthfully.

[ichbinzillah]

"...Okay. Um. What are you afraid of? Is someone after you?"

[doctor_pascal]

"--- No, no, of course not --" Pascal replies hastily. "-- it's nothing, really."

[winterfell_lady]

[doctor_pascal]

Blink blink, and Pascal straightens his countenance, stands, gives Catelyn a strict Victorian bow. "--- I am well, Madame, thank you for your concern. Please, do not worry on my account."

He probably looks a bit mussed, too. Tall and blond as he is, we expect he might look a bit more like a Lannister, or like an Easterner, at any rate - but his clothes are definitely not Westerosi.

[winterfell_lady]

[doctor_pascal]

Oh dear. We're not sure if Not That Stark gave his name or not in thread yonder, but if he does, Pascal might come to particular conclusions about who this lady is. For now, though, he simply gives his name in response.

"Only as tired as study allows, Madame." He inclines his head, unfailingly polite. "Doctor Pascal Rougon, at your service."

[alwaysmovingon]

He knows a few things about things like this, and dystopian futures that he's seen, though mostly on other planets. The Doctor comes wandering through, looking preoccupied, though he brightens at once when he sees Pascal, wherever he might find him.

"Ah, Pascal! My fine doctored friend. You look busy."

[doctor_pascal]

Pascal looks up from the notes he was gathering to wander back to his room. "Doctor!" he replies, more brightly than he has all day. "I was just thinking that we should meet again."

[alwaysmovingon]

The Doctor grins back broadly, hands in his pockets, stopping fully. "Well, and so we have! Clearly fortune favors us. More questions, is it?" He seems delighted, though, by the prospect.

There is nothing he likes more than talking about things and explaining things to people. Other than saving the world, he likes that pretty well too. And being cleverer than everybody.

[doctor_pascal]

Pascal smiles a bit ruefully, apologetically, almost. "Do I ever have anything else," he says, a touch self-deprecatingly. "Would you like a seat?"