He continues to stay quiet as Angela works, the woman’s conversation reduced to instructions for the blood drawing to come. Even her touch was fleeting, hesitant, moving over him like he was going to lash out at any moment. It made a part of him want to shrink back - of course he’d alienated somebody only wanting to show him a shred of kindness. Just great. Just peachy. Just typical.
The pain was nothing unbearable, the sting only making him grimace a little as she took each sample. He’d been through worse easily, of course, shots and stabs and bites and more. But there was a certain special discomfort that came with being compliant to it, to not being able to spit and hiss and fight back in some way. Honestly, the kicker was that, supposedly, this was all even being done to help him. Not that he really believed it, but Angela had indeed said the words. Perhaps there was a smidgen of truth in them.
Either that or she’s more fooled than anybody, he thought bitterly as he watched her wheel the samples away, place a bandage more for form than function on his arm. It would be a shame if that were the case, really - she seemed like a sweet girl, intelligent at the very least and able to stand her ground. It was when she started talking that he started laughing though.
God. This was not how he expected this conversation to go. For a good few moments he debated not telling her, but quickly dismissed the thought. If she believed him, well, he had some extra help on hand. If not? It was the same shit as usual, and he’d deal. He always had and likely always would. Besides, if it turned out to be a problem and he had to be put down or something, at least he’d have the defense of having been honest straight up. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath, before meeting Angela’s eyes again.
“No allergies, no asthma, I smoke but that shouldn’t be too much of an issue in this day and age with your fancy equiptment. Also, I’ve got… What’s the fancy-ass name for it. True lycanthropy? Think that’s it. Point is I turn into a nasty fuckin’ dog every month nobody wants to deal with, so if you have a room I can lock myself in for a couple of nights that’d be great.” He kept Angela’s eye contact at that, daring her to say something.
Just try me.
Angela gives a short hum of disapproval. She did not approve of smoking and the cancerous habit that it was. But all she could do on her thoughts of this, was simply glance up to show her disapproval, and glance back down at her paperwork; whilst attempting the quietest sigh she could give. Nonetheless, she continues to write, in extensive detail, any little thing that may trigger further questioning. But she had to ask.
“And.... I don’t suppose you plan on quitting anytime soon? the smoking?”
She enquires. This wasn’t a question on her sheet, this was pure curiosity -- she liked her patients to be in well health. Regular insurance would sky rocket for that liability.
But what he said next made her jaw drop. Was he even telling the truth? Did he think saying some absurd lie would get him out of here quicker? She waits for him to finish his explanation, and is quite frankly unsure of what to do or say. Her pen hesitates over her work.
“You need a room for a few days a month...”
She says slowly, quietly. Angela wasn’t quite ready to speak about the other thing he just mentioned. Perhaps he meant it as a not literal thing and has a manly ‘ time of the month ‘.
“I’ll see if that can be arranged...”
She glances back up at him, almost wary to take her eyes off of him, scribbling under special requirements. Her hand writing may have not been so legible for this one, but it was almost though she felt stupid should someone else read his documents. -- Not that they would, they were under lock and key in her office, and she of course was instructed to give any information that could endanger himself, or his colleagues; straight to higher authority. Yet, somehow, she didn’t think she could. So she wouldn’t.... For now.
“Right..”
She says after a small pause, with a tad awkwardness.
“I’ll need you to lift your shirt, or take it off, whichever is easiest to listen to your lungs. I can’t imagine they’ll be in best shape with smoking..”
She says, with perhaps a more than should be, bitter tone. Angela wasn’t hired or paid to care about her patients, not with their own affairs. But, she always did have a soft spot for those whom she deemed she could help herself.
kaledo-art
ellievsbear
turnnoffyourmind
blakekathryn
theartofmadeline
