[Dr. Statler hoped she'd have pockets or something of the sort to carry his little gift out in, as it would make matters ever so much simpler, but no matter what she wore, he'd figure matters out when she arrived. For the time being, he waited, his left arm packed in ice and kept elevated while it healed.]
[The Rani arrived shortly after her reply to Statler. Over her shoulder she carried a plain sort of messenger bag, in which she'd packed a couple of books for him; it would, not incidentally, be useful for carrying away anything he might have.]
Dr Statler.
[Awkward pause. When she spoke next, it sounded rather as if she was unused to saying this sort of thing.]
I heard about your ... mishap. I hope you ... that you are recovering well?
Re: Spam!itsyourtimeDecember 20 2009, 02:34:32 UTC
"Rani," he greeted in return. "I am doing quite well. Dr. McCoy has prescribed paracetamol. It works like a charm." Of course, it didn't work at all in reality due to the fact he hadn't taken any, leaving Dr. Statler in a lot of pain, but such was the price of science.
"Oh," he added, pulling an apparently coke bottle part of the way out of his pocket, though keeping it somewhat concealed in order to hide the pills inside or the word 'paracetamol' that he'd written on it. "Would you mind disposing of this for me? I've been drinking quite a bit of soda lately. In your room, though, I don't want to clutter up the trash cans here. With all the injuries as of late, there's quite enough work for the doctors, after all."
He spoke quietly, but not so much that it sounded like he was trying to hide anything. The doctors, he figured, were far too busy to think about what he was saying or to listen too closely.
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Dr Statler.
[Awkward pause. When she spoke next, it sounded rather as if she was unused to saying this sort of thing.]
I heard about your ... mishap. I hope you ... that you are recovering well?
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"Oh," he added, pulling an apparently coke bottle part of the way out of his pocket, though keeping it somewhat concealed in order to hide the pills inside or the word 'paracetamol' that he'd written on it. "Would you mind disposing of this for me? I've been drinking quite a bit of soda lately. In your room, though, I don't want to clutter up the trash cans here. With all the injuries as of late, there's quite enough work for the doctors, after all."
He spoke quietly, but not so much that it sounded like he was trying to hide anything. The doctors, he figured, were far too busy to think about what he was saying or to listen too closely.
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