With a good chunk of the island population away for the break -- on the school trip or otherwise -- Ronan was prepared for a rather slow day in the clinic.

Let's help him keep it that way, yes?

[Open and OCD-free! Let's see if LJ lets me post/comment today.]

The first thing Ronan does when he gets into the clinic Monday morning is make sure that they are well-stocked with condoms. The second is to make sure that there is a large basket, filled to overflowing, for anyone who wants to come for them.

... The third is, admittedly, to grab a few for himself. It's not that he's planning anything, but this ( Read more... )

Rather than walking through the front door, Ronan appeared for his clinic shift in the middle of the waiting room, a slight 'pop' of displaced air heralding his arrival. "Remind me," he said to no one in particular as he brushed copious amounts of blue dust from his hair and clothing, "not to visit K'k'ln during the windy season ( Read more... )

Ronan slides into work just on time, still smiling from doing radio. Of course, he's not smiling as soon as he gets a text message.

He stares at his phone for a moment, then -- after sending off a quick request to the cats at Grand Central -- fires off a text in response: Let me know if he needs a healer. I can get there in ten minutes. -RThe ( Read more... )

Ronan was hoping for a quiet clinic shift after the holidays; he wasn't expecting one, because on Fandom? That was tantamount to a deathwish. But hoping? Definitely hoping.

He set himself up behind the desk like normal, a tray of coffees on hand for the nurses.

[Open and OOC-free! I am back and forth a bit today -- doing ALL the cleaning -- but ( Read more... )

Ronan was looking a little better after a week's rest -- and a week's food. Despite a certain remaining gauntness, he was moving easily, wasn't so quickly tired, and had regained some of the mass he'd lost fueling his spells during the battle with the Auditors.

And he'd finally managed to get Twitter working on his phone.

@downwithgrenfelzing: @ ( Read more... )

When Ronan got the clinic, his eyes were so dark-circled that at first glance, one might think he'd been in a fight-- but no. He was tired, instead, so tired that he sat down at the front desk and leaned forward, letting his head rest on folded arms.

He was awake, technically, but it might take a moment to get his attention when you arrived.

[ ( Read more... )

"Hey, Neets," Ronan said, when his call connected. He was at the front desk -- a little late, maybe, but he was distracted enough that he'd half-forgotten what day it was -- with coffee, worry in his voice.

The number of wizards back home kept going down; he was afraid to check for names of people he knew, at this point, but between the problems ( Read more... )

Ronan wasn't on the phone this morning, but it was never far from his side as he moved about the clinic, double-checking stock and making notes for anything that might need topping up. Whatever was happening, Ronan was going to make sure that the clinic was ready for it.

While replying promptly to any text that came his way.

Ronan, surprisingly, wasn't on the phone when he walked into the clinic on Monday morning. He was instead clutching his laptop and a handful of thin, flimsy sheets of something that looked not quite like plastic, characters in the Speech scrolling across them ( Read more... )