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Fact: In Doc Potter's arms is a remarkably runty little demon rabbit.

Fact: Doc Potter's hands are suffering from first-degree burns, and his sleeves are singed.

Fact: The demon bunny is, even more remarkably, asleep, and has a muzzle firmly affixed on its snout.

Fact: Doc Potter looks about thisclose to conking out.

Fact: Never before in his life has Doc Potter ever attempted to adopt/domesticate an animal.

Probable: He wouldn't mind a decent conversation.

[ tiny tag with an adopted bunny: doc potter
tiny tag with a bum leg: dan evans
tiny tag that's nonplussed as all hell: ben wade ]

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Fact: Ben Wade is nonplussed as all hell.

Quietly, "Jesus, Mary, 'n Joseph -- Doc, you know what you're holdin' there?"

The burns say yes, but he's just checking.

"I -- uh."

Doc seems completely at a loss as to how to respond.

"Yes?"

"Looks an awful lot like a little bitty demon bunny."

Ben should know; he's shot at enough of them in the woods outside the bar.

A pause, and Doc Potter looks back down at the bundle in his arms.

"He is."

"And you thought you'd ... "

A pause and a slight head-tilt.

"Dunno what the end of that sentence is, but at least you've muzzled it."

"It ... I don't think anyone else was going to take care of him."

The look on his face is one of genuine concern, and, brow furrowed, he looks back up at Ben.

He squashes the sudden empathy for the abandoned demon rabbit.

Because, well. Because.

" -- they breathe fire."

"I know."

In demonstration, he manages to waggle a set of (red) fingers in Ben's direction.

"Somethin' tells me you've got a soft spot for lost causes, Doc."

He nods toward the sad-sack of a demon bunny.

"When it ain't spittin' hellfire, think it'd drink from an eye-dropper?"

"Maybe it was my occupation?"

He wrinkles his nose a little.

"I hope so. Gotta find out what it'll eat, first, anyway."

"Reckon so -- you did try'n put up with my unrepentant ass."

He headtilts a little at the bunny, cogs clearly turning.

Doc Potter knows that look, and is somewhat leery of it.

"The demon bunny's been easier to handle."

"That's why I like you, Doc -- your sense of humor."

A beat and lines appear on his forehead.

"Maybe Miss Bar'd know what to feed the little feller."

Half a beat.

"Bunny. Rabbit. Demon."

Right on cue, a small bowl of ... something appears on the bar.

"... Uh."

(He does not, unsurprisingly, yet feel up to handling an awake demon bunny. But he appreciates the gesture.)