Ton's walking over to the Bar to get a drink when he spots the lab coat folded over the chair. He pauses--ever so briefly--before continuing on his way, grabbing a cup of caf, and dropping ino the chair between the doc and the labcoat.
"Nice coat. Had one for a while. Picked a new career."
A shrug. "Preferred to try to shoot down people I hated."
He sips at his own caf and extends a hand--a prosthetic hand. "Name's Ton Phanan--pilot, wit, superior intellect, any other titles you wish to bestow fit too. You?"
"Robert Chase," he returns, taking the man's hand for a moment. Prosthetic hand, too. Hmm. This intrigues him. Not that he's going to say anything about it though -- it's not really his style.
"Shooting down people you hate?" Chase picks up his coffee and takes a sip instead. "Quite the career change."
Doctors don't wear white coats in Mary's day, but she's learned by this point what they mean.
Doctors in Mary's day also aren't particularly talented at actually curing sick people, but that's another issue entirely. It does explain the wariness with which she's eying him, though.
Will's feeling in a good mood after starting the morning by meeting Kyo, he's bruised and holding his dinner and a mug of ale looking for a table when he spots Chase,
"Good e'en, sir, may I join ye, tis crowded tonight,"
He says with a bow and a smile towards Chase, a scruffy, slightly sore medieval man with sword and knife at his side.
Chase's eyes immediately go to the sword at the man's side, then to his face, watching him for a brief moment before nodding his head. It takes him a moment to realize once more that yes, this is Milliways. And yes, he ought to expect things like this (this being medieval folk carrying swords and the like).
"Sure," he says, pushing his coffee a little closer towards him to allow more space.
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Ton's walking over to the Bar to get a drink when he spots the lab coat folded over the chair. He pauses--ever so briefly--before continuing on his way, grabbing a cup of caf, and dropping ino the chair between the doc and the labcoat.
"Nice coat. Had one for a while. Picked a new career."
Ah, tact.
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"Really," he says. "Why?"
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He sips at his own caf and extends a hand--a prosthetic hand. "Name's Ton Phanan--pilot, wit, superior intellect, any other titles you wish to bestow fit too. You?"
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"Shooting down people you hate?" Chase picks up his coffee and takes a sip instead. "Quite the career change."
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Doctors in Mary's day also aren't particularly talented at actually curing sick people, but that's another issue entirely. It does explain the wariness with which she's eying him, though.
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Turning in his seat, he notices the little girl, and gives her a look in return.
It's sort of a 'What exactly are you looking at?' look.
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"You are a doctor," she announces, loudly. (And not particularly insightfully, but oh well. It's always better to double-check, in any case.)
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He's dealt with kids who don't like doctors before. Doesn't mean he's any good at it, though.
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Chase blinks as the gargoyle passes by, then follows it with his eyes.
Well, there's something you don't see everyday. Not really quite run-of-the-mill in Chase's world.
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"Good e'en, sir, may I join ye, tis crowded tonight,"
He says with a bow and a smile towards Chase, a scruffy, slightly sore medieval man with sword and knife at his side.
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"Sure," he says, pushing his coffee a little closer towards him to allow more space.
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Will says with a smile and look of no I'm not an outlaw, really quite safe as he sits down.
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