milliways_bar | (no subject)

He grins.

"What's got your interest so steadily? And how are you feeling?"

His eyes weighty her visibly now, as his voice shifts a little.

"Count of Monte Cristo." She smiles faintly. "I'm feeling okay. No relapses. How are you?"

Yep. It's still there.

He cocks his head, nods.

"I am okay. Been a long week, what with everything happening, but I have made some headway working on your situation, unlocking your gentic code. The hardest parts are isolating the tetragenetic changes caused by the disease factor and the lycanthropic chemicals in your blood system."

His voice is much quiieter, almost a rumble. But he knows her ears can hear it.

She nods slightly. "Just luck the problems didn't spring up earlier, I suppose..."

"What do you suggest, as far as treatment goes?"

He cocks his ehad.

"Actually, your system is strong, the genetic engineering done has fiven you some line of protection. It just happenend to also leave open the door to this particular problem. It looks like, to me, the two viruses are arguing, but I need to isolate each one in ordert to figure out the exact problem. I am making headway. I just wanted you to know. I wont let you die."

His voice is still at that quiet level, trying to respect her privacy by not spreading news all over.

Given the hearing some of the bar's patrons have, keeping any conversation truly private would be next to impossible if they really wanted to listen in. But she does appreciate the effort.

"Thank you..." she says quietly.

Then, "...On the last full moon, I didn't shift..."

His eyes narrow.

"Then they must somehow be ... interfering with one another. Which would cause a reverse shockwave in your system. They are arguing over who gets dominance, I imagine. One trying to write out the other maybe..."

he peers into the night for a moment, thinking.

"That may be the key, Max. That may just be it..."

She growls, an odd sound coming from a human throat. "Goddamned werewolves and their goddamned dominance bullshit. It would have to be that, wouldn't it?"

It's an issue, with her.

He blinks.

"Ah, I dont know? Werewolves on my world are signifigantly different from what I have seen here. But all wolves, everywhere, seem to be in a dominant/servant society, even the ones who are just animals. IO have no idea how that would relate to their spell/disease/condition."

He breathes out a breath.

"I may need some more blood, and Max? I want to reitterate. I know I said it before and you understand, but I cant promise anything. I will do my best, and if there is anyway to do it, I will save you. And I will help you kicks this damn thing's ass."

"I've lived my life knowing I might die at any moment. I've come to terms with that by now." She smiles faintly. "And I can probably part with a few more vials of blood."

He nods.

"I know that feeling. My world specializes in people who think my kind are abominations or threats. A lot of hunters out there with our pictures on their wanted lists. "

He smiles a little.

"Good."

He holds up a special little rod about three inches long.

"I rigged this up, figured you might be tired of being poked by needles. it can draw blood throguh the skin as a transfusion might. It will leave a small mark that will vanish in a week or so, but wont have any other harmful effects. That way you can take the blood without needles and without, too much discomforta. No reason for you to feel any worse than you have to."

She decides not to mention that imminent death was a definite possibility even before the normals realised that transgenics existed.

She laughs quietly. "Would you believe that I hardly even feel the needles. Though that does seem nifty." She's eyeing the device curiously.

"I can believe it. My own hide has grown less sentistive to that kind of thing, even as it has grown more so to air currents. He raises hia arm showing the fur moving in the air. But I do try to make things are comofrtable as possible for tyhose I treat as a doctor."

he smiles.

"Well, I appreciate it." She grins. "I'd make a crack about looking like a junkie otherwise, but my scars fade too quickly for that to be an issue."

He chuckles, and in the ease of the moment lets slip one of his won secrets.

"You should ahev seen me after I came back from Hell, I looked like an overscarred baseball that has been cut open and retied over and over again. But, int ime, my body ehaled."

It is only after he spakes that he realizes what he has said and his form still for a moment, then slowly eases. No reason not to tell ehr, right? Right. Not like she will be telling Max he ran out and went to hell. And she doesnt know why yet anyway.

She blinks once, then again. It's a little startling, especially slipped into conversation so casually.

And doesn't say anything, largely because she's not really certain what to say to that.

He shakes his head. Score another social foul for McCoy.

"Anyway. get me that blood sometime. I will leave you to your evening."

he smiles and rises.

"...You don't have to go." She smiles faintly. "Though I understand if you wish to."

he chuckles.

"I fail at social stuff. I dont want to make you uncomfortable. I tend to do that at times, to others. Somewhere along the line the line in my brain between what should come out and what does got shifted and doesnt always work right."

he grins.

"So I apologize, and in advance."

She grins slightly. "Doctor McCoy, you're talking to someone who spent her formative years learning how to kill people in new and interesting manners. Social graces aren't precisely my forte either."

After a moment, she adds, "So consider yourself forgiven."

He blinks then he chuckles.

"Thank you. "

he settles back in his seat.

"I will have to go soon, again. The Infirmary has managed to be busy these last few days. Seems like people are trying to keep me in a job... which would be rgeat, if this palce paid me."

he grins.

"Not that I need it. Working in aschool alongside one of the biggest money nerds ever in my world has allowed me to know when and whee to find moneyg making opportunities and make the most of them. And this body is very good at hard work."

She laughs quietly. "Well, that's good to know."

A moment's pause. "They don't put money on your tab at all...?"

He shakes his head.

"Not as far as I know. I just started working one day and ot having a lot to do., As word s[pread I ahev expanded the line of machines and materials I have in there. I havent sought payment, like I said, it isnt an issue to me. It just pops up in my head sometime. You know how you think of jobs back in he Earthworlds is always about at least partially, if it pays enough to survive. Well, I dont have that trouble these days, but it doesnt stop the mind from remmebering old habits.

"Ah." She grins. "Sadly, I haven't been able to move beyond the materialistic stage. Largely because stealing all my meals would be too much effort."

She winks, and may even be joking.

His eyes dance. He has rather noticed her way of walking and talking, her eyes and her movements. He has visited pos-apocalyptic worlds before himself.

"Ah, well, as long as it serves your tastes, amdame."

And he makes her a seated flourished bow, his eyes glinting with humor.