general clinic log

[testsonseashells]

Who: Drs. Solus or Strider, various patients.
What: Echo checkups
When: Whenever
Where: LSR clinic

The LSR clinic, despite its run-down, beat-up appearance, is actually fairly clean on the inside. Lit by white fluorescent lights, it's generally pretty empty, with the occasional non-network patient coming in to get something looked at. A volunteer is usually found running the front desk, organizing papers and responding to phone calls, while Dr. Solus and Dr. Strider take care of the actual medical business.

The waiting room is barebones compared to other clinics and medical practices - LSR doesn't have the money to get entertainments for the waiting patients, so all that's available are a few chairs.

When it's your turn for an appointment, whoever's at the desk will direct you down a hallway to the left, and you will meet one of the doctors.

[ooc: general clinic log! all checkups for crazy echoes can take place here. specify dr. solus or dr. strider in the subject line.]

Comments

12/08 at around 9 am, either doctor!

[strikeraid]

[ Ok, scratching the fact that that was probably the worst idea he's ever, ever, ever had, especially when it came to his personal safety and the safety of his fellow network members... That didn't go so badly! At least I'm alive, he repeats to himself as he trudges along toward the clinic at around 6 am, being careful not to slide his right ankle out of place yet again. Thank the powers that be that it's both right in the middle of Blood Key territory and is still the same place Skyler remembered the doctor on the network describing. The same doctor that he associated with getting good hash was also a pillar for the medical needs for the network. There was a lot of irony in that that he couldn't quite describe. He is about ten points from failing English, it's not really that surprising.

Long intro short, a 17 year old kid limping to the door with an arm around his ribs, a puffy bottom lip, and purpling left eye is going to attempt to open the door. Wait, is the clinic even open this early in the morning? Shit. He is going to be so fucking pissed if he dies because he bled to death on the inside or something.

He puts his free hand on the doorknob and tries to get it open. Nope, locked. Shit. He shuffles a little to the side and slides onto his butt, slouching against the wall. Nothing to do but wait and hope he doesn't die in the process. He huffs a little, trying not to fall asleep. ]

This is what passing looks like?

[ Whenever whichever doctor opens gets there, Skyler will be in the same spot, shivering a little and trying his level best not to doze off. He's failed several times up until that point, but not for lack of trying. ]

[elfstoned]

[The clinic isn't technically open, not yet -- it's about ten minutes before a tall man in a long grey coat appears from around a corner, breath steaming in the air. He sees Skyler by the door, and his pace doubles. Covering the distance to the door in long strides, he drops down to a crouch to get a better look at Skyler. It's obvious the boy is there for medical care -- the puffy eye, favoring his ribs give that away immediately.]

Come on, then, let's get you inside. Can you stand?

[strikeraid]

[ It takes Skyler to register that this time, the person in front of him isn't a dream. He squints at him fiercely in the growing light before recognition dawns on him - haha, it's Pot-Doc. Figures. (He still doesn't know about the blue eyes thing, yet. That's gonna be a trip.)

Skyler scoffs after he's successfully digested his question. Yeah, of course he can get up. He waves off any help preemptively with a half-hearted sweep of his hand and hauls himself onto his feet, his ribs crackling with a new wave of pain as they stretch upward. He winces. Ok, maybe he can stand, but not quickly.

He grabs the doorframe and stands there, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears. ]

You gonna... You gonna open that door or what? [ ... You're welcome, Skyler. He's a little angry that he had to wait a few hours for this, and mostly he's too close to passing out to be polite, but still. Manners much, kid? ]

[elfstoned]

[It doesn't bother Aaron, the rudeness. He keeps an eye on Skyler as he pulls the keys out of his pocket, making sure the boy isn't about to topple over. The key turns, the heavy metal door swings open, and they both step inside to blessed warmth. Aaron drops the keys into his pocket and shrugs off his coat, dropping it carelessly on one of the chairs immediately inside and gesturing for Skyler to follow him through the small waiting-room and down the hallway that led to the examining rooms and the back, turning on the lights as he goes.]

What happened?

[Aaron makes no assumptions that what happened was numbers-related -- he recognizes Skyler as a network user, but also knows that Skyler is the type of person to show up at his clinic for something unrelated.]

[strikeraid]

[ Skyler will sway a little as he limps after Aaron, but he's doing a pretty good job of pretending that he doesn't have a sprain that is threatening tendonitis. He's just hoping every five or six steps that wherever they're going, they're about five or six steps away from it.

... Well, shit. If there's something he's terrible at, it's being a bald-faced liar. He's generally much better at side-stepping the truth, which is a completely different thing. So... Let's just stick with some of the truth. For now. ]

I went out looking for the Blood Keys. [ ... he laughs a little. ] Found 'em.

[elfstoned]

[Aaron's mind jumps to, "I went looking for the Blood Keys to fight them." He frowns as he leads Skyler into an examining room, and nods for the young man to get up on the table. He looks Skyler over, looking for any patches of blood on the boy's clothes, any signs of swelling, any bruising -- where are the injuries?]

Then you're lucky you got away with your life. Now, tell me where you're hurt.

[strikeraid]

[ Skyler would be immensely relieved if he knew Aaron came to that conclusion. He doesn't, though, so he'll look a little stiff and nervous while he eases himself onto the table. He's pretty sure he just looks sore. (Maybe). ]

Lucky, huh... Uh. My ribs hurt. Face. [ He points at his general face area, hoping that the black eye and swollen bottom lip were obvious by now. He really can't tell, since feeling hasn't quite returned to his face. ] Ankle's... weird, kept feeling like I was about to slide on it. Kept kicking me in the stomach, dunno if anything's broken. There's this.[ He raises up his arms and touches, the bruises he got from blocking hits to his face splattering purply-green all over his forearms. ] Nothing broken there, though. I don't think.

[ ... he's pretty matter of fact, too tired to be embarrassed by how bad he looks right now. He's never really thought of himself as a looker anyway... He just doesn't want to look like a wreck going to school tomorrow. ]