[IC Post: Friday Night, Mar. 27 - At Stewart's Work]
There sits Dr. Alan Gregory Stewart, sitting alone at the large table in the room adjacent to his office, chitter chattering on his telephone to an old friend, Dr. Gaston Landry; Egregoroi Series Adapa Laptop open to his left, tonight's patient's chart open to his right and in between, a myriad of magazines, papers, post-it notes and small books, the information contained in this pile of literature ranges anywhere from memos from the hospital, concert posters, the most recent Playboy to a small book about this week's soap operas and a random Playstation 3 controller. Directly behind him, in front of the window, is a large, portable whiteboard with what looks like information and a flowchart documenting the path a disease has taken since it was discovered in 1998 and the steps various police and government agencies have taken to correct it(albeit failing) and keep it in containment up to the present(still, failing miserably).
Suddenly, there's a ping sound from the laptop between chuckles from Stewart and he looks over, eyes flickering over the GTalk message he just recieved.
Monica: You're the epitome of horrid 'bed-side manner' aren't you?
Sent at 10:51 PM on Friday
"Gaston, I'll let you get back to heading to bed. I've gotta follow up on this goofy memo I just got." After a few words from Gaston, they both hang up and Stewart turns to his shiny, new laptop, beginning to tippy-tap at the keys.
me: Problem?
Monica: ....Oh bloody hell? I mean..really?
you couldn't think of anything better than that?
me: I'm thinking.
There's a lot of information Micky traipses around with, a lot of information that slips in and out of that little head of his. This is gonna take some planning to try and figure out.
Monica: Yep. I'm well aware of that. Honest - I am. I handed him shit myself. But - you might also think that he's probably a little emotionally upset right now himself. And since he doesnt' really remembering having to put up with your normal bearing - you could try and introduce yourself in a more...consoling manner.
me: Tous à temps, cousin. Je travaille à lui.
Monica: Sorry dear, I speak Turkish, Russian - not uh...French I think that looks like?
me: It is French. Everything in time, cousin. I'm working on it.
Monica: I know that we're all predators and stuff...I just wish sometimes that the emotional stuff would be considered when you all do some of this stuff.
me: Predators? Where'd that come from?
Monica: Let's just say it's has been a very long week for me Cuz...involving lots of messy things - most of them making holes in my heart or sanity.
me: Well, we can talk about that if you want. We can set up an appointment.
I'm sorry about all that. Big night in Athens?
Monica: Big week in Athens - but yeah. And I appreciate it - but I dont' talk to shrinks anymore.
I had a bad experience.
me: Shrinks? I'm not a shrink.
Monica: Then why would I set up an appointment to 'talk' to you? I thought you were referring to something like that...
me: Just because I wanna talk you through a rough patch doesn't make me a shrink.
You're a cousin, you're a Carthian, you're great and all that. Can't I wanna help you out?
Monica: Yeah...it's entirely possible and the first thing I'd like to believe.
No offense Stewart - I just don't trust people with Dominate...
Just then, as Stewart began to tap out his response, two of his interns pushed the door open, test results in their hands,
"Dr. Stewart, we have the res--" Stewart cuts them off with a wag of his finger.
"Not now, baby birds. I have to deal with this. Won't take long."
"But Dr. Stewart, is that even work?"
"Is that patient even dying?"
"Well, n--"
"I didn' t think so. I'll be with you in a second... Someone is wrong on the internet." And with that, the two sat down, re-reading over the results in their hands as their mentor resumed typing.
me: Oh. Well. Have you let the Professor know?
Monica: About my mistrust? No...he probably assumes as much from his knowledge of my incident and my reactions to such things afterwards.
me: Hm.
Whelp, alrighty. Somebody in the family had to be good at it, that sucks it's automatically such a super terrible thing.
Monica: Just for me. And my opinions not that much good anyway. :)
me: Uh-huh.
Monica: I can temper my mistrust some - but it's almost a gut reaction at this point. And to sit there and talk to you about what's bothering me and the horrid things...I've seen too many 'well intentioned' people try to take away bad memories to help the person cope...I don't want that.
me: Gotcha.
Monica: I do appreciate the offer Alan. I'll be okay. Promise.
me: Right. Well, uh, there's some African zombies calling my name. Have fun, Little Thib.
Alan's new status message - Malkavia Carrier Combat Training 11:19 PM
Alan is busy. You may be interrupting.
And with that, Dr. Alan Stewart grabbed up his Playstation controller, turned on the TV and resumed playing Resident Evil 5.
"Uh, Dr. Stewart. The patient?"
"Damnit, Blackula, can't you see I'm trying to stop the further spread of Umbrella Corp's stupid ever-present failure? I've been trying to cure this for over ten years now! Look!" Stewart points at the flowchart on the whiteboard detailing each Resident Evil game since the first.
"That's what you've been resear--"
"Stop right there. Your solution's in the chart. Fourth page down, orange highlighter." Stewart motions at the patient chart on the table without missing a beat between zombies on the big screen TV.
"Did you just call me Blackula? Where did that come from?"
"Well, you are of the African-American persuasion...or had you forgotten? Oh, and the -ula part came from what the prognosis is written on, Twilight boy. You left your reciept from buying the Blu-Ray in your lab coat."
"You went through my...."
"When was the last time I didn't go through your things when you left them in my office? Go on, chicklings, shoo shoo. Your patient might die." Spitting the last part out with apparent sarcasm, Stewart turns to face the screen again with a smile as the interns turn to leave the room.
Suddenly, there's a ping sound from the laptop between chuckles from Stewart and he looks over, eyes flickering over the GTalk message he just recieved.
Monica: You're the epitome of horrid 'bed-side manner' aren't you?
Sent at 10:51 PM on Friday
"Gaston, I'll let you get back to heading to bed. I've gotta follow up on this goofy memo I just got." After a few words from Gaston, they both hang up and Stewart turns to his shiny, new laptop, beginning to tippy-tap at the keys.
me: Problem?
Monica: ....Oh bloody hell? I mean..really?
you couldn't think of anything better than that?
me: I'm thinking.
There's a lot of information Micky traipses around with, a lot of information that slips in and out of that little head of his. This is gonna take some planning to try and figure out.
Monica: Yep. I'm well aware of that. Honest - I am. I handed him shit myself. But - you might also think that he's probably a little emotionally upset right now himself. And since he doesnt' really remembering having to put up with your normal bearing - you could try and introduce yourself in a more...consoling manner.
me: Tous à temps, cousin. Je travaille à lui.
Monica: Sorry dear, I speak Turkish, Russian - not uh...French I think that looks like?
me: It is French. Everything in time, cousin. I'm working on it.
Monica: I know that we're all predators and stuff...I just wish sometimes that the emotional stuff would be considered when you all do some of this stuff.
me: Predators? Where'd that come from?
Monica: Let's just say it's has been a very long week for me Cuz...involving lots of messy things - most of them making holes in my heart or sanity.
me: Well, we can talk about that if you want. We can set up an appointment.
I'm sorry about all that. Big night in Athens?
Monica: Big week in Athens - but yeah. And I appreciate it - but I dont' talk to shrinks anymore.
I had a bad experience.
me: Shrinks? I'm not a shrink.
Monica: Then why would I set up an appointment to 'talk' to you? I thought you were referring to something like that...
me: Just because I wanna talk you through a rough patch doesn't make me a shrink.
You're a cousin, you're a Carthian, you're great and all that. Can't I wanna help you out?
Monica: Yeah...it's entirely possible and the first thing I'd like to believe.
No offense Stewart - I just don't trust people with Dominate...
Just then, as Stewart began to tap out his response, two of his interns pushed the door open, test results in their hands,
"Dr. Stewart, we have the res--" Stewart cuts them off with a wag of his finger.
"Not now, baby birds. I have to deal with this. Won't take long."
"But Dr. Stewart, is that even work?"
"Is that patient even dying?"
"Well, n--"
"I didn' t think so. I'll be with you in a second... Someone is wrong on the internet." And with that, the two sat down, re-reading over the results in their hands as their mentor resumed typing.
me: Oh. Well. Have you let the Professor know?
Monica: About my mistrust? No...he probably assumes as much from his knowledge of my incident and my reactions to such things afterwards.
me: Hm.
Whelp, alrighty. Somebody in the family had to be good at it, that sucks it's automatically such a super terrible thing.
Monica: Just for me. And my opinions not that much good anyway. :)
me: Uh-huh.
Monica: I can temper my mistrust some - but it's almost a gut reaction at this point. And to sit there and talk to you about what's bothering me and the horrid things...I've seen too many 'well intentioned' people try to take away bad memories to help the person cope...I don't want that.
me: Gotcha.
Monica: I do appreciate the offer Alan. I'll be okay. Promise.
me: Right. Well, uh, there's some African zombies calling my name. Have fun, Little Thib.
Alan's new status message - Malkavia Carrier Combat Training 11:19 PM
Alan is busy. You may be interrupting.
And with that, Dr. Alan Stewart grabbed up his Playstation controller, turned on the TV and resumed playing Resident Evil 5.
"Uh, Dr. Stewart. The patient?"
"Damnit, Blackula, can't you see I'm trying to stop the further spread of Umbrella Corp's stupid ever-present failure? I've been trying to cure this for over ten years now! Look!" Stewart points at the flowchart on the whiteboard detailing each Resident Evil game since the first.
"That's what you've been resear--"
"Stop right there. Your solution's in the chart. Fourth page down, orange highlighter." Stewart motions at the patient chart on the table without missing a beat between zombies on the big screen TV.
"Did you just call me Blackula? Where did that come from?"
"Well, you are of the African-American persuasion...or had you forgotten? Oh, and the -ula part came from what the prognosis is written on, Twilight boy. You left your reciept from buying the Blu-Ray in your lab coat."
"You went through my...."
"When was the last time I didn't go through your things when you left them in my office? Go on, chicklings, shoo shoo. Your patient might die." Spitting the last part out with apparent sarcasm, Stewart turns to face the screen again with a smile as the interns turn to leave the room.