It was alright, whatever his experiment was. That was his business… and while, yes, it gave Murphie some pause, it was not enough to deter her from getting help from Alan. So far, even the experiment aside, he’d been kind in listening to her plight - she wasn’t a fool enough to walk away now.
Chewing nervously on the side of her thumb as he wrote down the symptoms, Murphie chided herself inwardly. Even in nerves, she wasn’t being very ladylike. Forcing herself to drop her hand, posture straightening a bit, as she waited for him to finish up his notes, she perked up a bit, when Alan spoke once more. Already, he had some kind of start - perhaps not a solution, but it was at least something different from what the doctors had been trying.
“His blood?” It wasn’t so much of a question, but a soft whisper in affirmation. Right. Well, if Alan was to come by to see her father, and hopefully help, there would be no keeping it a secret from the older man. No doubt Noah would try to wave off help, not wanting to be a burden…. But Murphie couldn’t let him die like this. Much less live like this. Even if it wasn’t a cure, she wanted to find some kind of comfort for him in all of this. “I-I can certainly mix it well, t'at won’ be an issue.” The redhead assured Alan, offering him a slight smile and nod.
“Mus’ be nice ta have all t'is greenery, though.” She mused a bit, following him towards the kitchen. “Nearly as green as back home.” Or, at least, as green as it had been in her memories. It’d been years since she saw the rolling hills of the countryside. For all she knew, it was just as worn down as the cities now. “Aye, t'ank ye. T'at would be wonderful. I…” She paused, thinking hard, “We’re at t'e ol’ leather shoppe. S'open most o’ t'e day. I’ve been runnin’ it, hopin’ ta let him rest upstairs.” Her eyes fell to his journal, busted, papers easily escaping… now that was an idea, wasn’t it? There was plenty of leather to work with at the shoppe, and it sure did beat trying to scrape money together that she really didn’t have to pay him. Perhaps an exchange of services instead?
Alan did his best to offer a comforting smile, pleased that she seemed to be taking everything he said in stride. “I confess, I can’t attest to my beside manner since I’m not usually in the role of ‘doctor’, but I give you my word I’ll be gentle while I take my samples. And you’re welcome to stay in the room, of course.” He paused and then admitted, “Many of my colleagues will swear up and down that a woman’s constitution isn’t fit for such things... however, I think many of them somehow forget all that women are capable of that men are not.” His laugh was a little sheepish this time, knowing he might’ve overstepped by even subtly mentioning a woman’s ability to create life. Some things just weren’t talked about... although Alan had always found the concept rather absurd. Science was science, after all. Not talking about it seemed like a disservice to everyone involved.
As they headed for the kitchen, the scientist listened to his guest, nodding with interest as she shared small bits of information about herself. “Truthfully... I think better in green spaces than I do anywhere else. Something about being surrounded by so much life puts my mind at ease.” He was about to ask Murphie where she was from originally, (an accent couldn’t tell him everything, after all) when the leather shop was mentioned. Has she said that before?! Likely, yes. And damn him for not paying closer attention.
Leading her up a winding set of stairs, Alan spoke a little more quickly, having trouble hiding the urgency in his tone, “I can imagine that running things by yourself is incredible difficult; your dedication is admirable. I wonder... does that mean you’re familiar with the chemicals your father was using in his work...?” Now Alan had another theory. One which might or might not complicate matters.
