take half of everything. (ele blitz)
Aug 29, 2020 23:05:33 GMT -5
Post by calla on Aug 29, 2020 23:05:33 GMT -5
ALARIC MERCIER
Clara catches him coming out of his last consult before lunch, one hand already resting on the doorknob to his office. She hands him a report instead, one of the little questionnaires they have for walk-ins and nudges him toward the second examination room before turning on her heel and striding back to reception.
And Alaric had been looking forward to his lunch break. Blake had decided to try his hand at cooking the night before, and the general consensus was that he had a knack for it. So there’s a container of leftovers waiting for him in his desk, practically calling his name, but he stops short when he reads the name on Clara’s chart - Wolfgang Mae.
It isn’t the first time he’s had a Mae come in, but he finds himself hoping, not for the first time, that this’ll be the last. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help them, because he objectively wants to help all of his patients. There’s just a certain degree of danger that follows that family, and he’d rather keep his own out of it.
But at the end of the day, he has an oath to uphold. It doesn’t matter who the patient is. When he walks into the little examination room, what he expects to see is a dumb kid who got caught in a street fight, or a junkie who took his last trip a little too far. He remembers treating a gunshot wound once, and receiving a very strange and threatening visitor afterwards.
What he doesn’t expect, however, is a boy much younger than Blake, sitting on the table and clutching his knee, tears in his eyes.
“Wolfgang,” he says gently as he walks in, because he knows how quickly these gang kids can get spooked. He glances at the chart again and eyes all of the sections left blank, specifically the reason why he’s favouring that knee. Alaric can’t do anything to help until he knows what’s wrong. “Can you tell me what happened?”
And Alaric had been looking forward to his lunch break. Blake had decided to try his hand at cooking the night before, and the general consensus was that he had a knack for it. So there’s a container of leftovers waiting for him in his desk, practically calling his name, but he stops short when he reads the name on Clara’s chart - Wolfgang Mae.
It isn’t the first time he’s had a Mae come in, but he finds himself hoping, not for the first time, that this’ll be the last. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help them, because he objectively wants to help all of his patients. There’s just a certain degree of danger that follows that family, and he’d rather keep his own out of it.
But at the end of the day, he has an oath to uphold. It doesn’t matter who the patient is. When he walks into the little examination room, what he expects to see is a dumb kid who got caught in a street fight, or a junkie who took his last trip a little too far. He remembers treating a gunshot wound once, and receiving a very strange and threatening visitor afterwards.
What he doesn’t expect, however, is a boy much younger than Blake, sitting on the table and clutching his knee, tears in his eyes.
“Wolfgang,” he says gently as he walks in, because he knows how quickly these gang kids can get spooked. He glances at the chart again and eyes all of the sections left blank, specifically the reason why he’s favouring that knee. Alaric can’t do anything to help until he knows what’s wrong. “Can you tell me what happened?”
