@afacere continued story.
The doctor calmly waited for her to accept the phone, smiling as she seemed to be going through a certain internal struggle. He did not worry about it though, in the end, it was her call on what to do. He was there to provide an option and perhaps push for at least a semblance of safety, but he was not going to order his patient around. Especially one that has already proven to be quite feisty.
When she finally took the device, he had to stifle a bigger grin, threatening to appear on his face as he clearly could see the concentration on her face. For a second, he wondered if he should offer his help, but having seen how independent she was and -- most importantly -- wanted to be seen as, he chose to tactfully pretend he could not see the struggle.
He gave her time, then moved back to his desk to update his data and note down the most important information from the evening. In the end, he'd have to start a small file for his new patient, regardless of whether her visits would be regular. He could wait, a doctor-patient relationship required trust and that needed to be built in time. For now, he was making sure she knew that he was open to the concept -- hence the sharing of his phone with no questions.
When she finally returned the phone, he looked up and nodded, although at her remark, he finally chuckled slightly. "Anaesthesia comes after in such scenarios, unless I see there is a traumatic inflammation." He responded slowly. The cost wasn't even the problem, but anaesthesia had to be registered, and the amounts he would need for his practice would raise more than one eyebrow. Thus, he could only get some and procure the rest illegally, which also meant his supply was fluctuating from 'enough' to 'desperately empty'. "Had you started screaming, I'd probably consider it. If you ever feel that what I am doing is too painful, just tell me. I will then provide. You were quite..." brave, the word was brave, but the risk of fumi taking it the wrong way was far too high for him to try. Instead, he allowed the silence to speak for him.
"That's nothing to thank me for though -- a lot of people who come here are poor. I can't just destroy the clothes they come in, they might not be able to afford others. I've learnt to work around it." The man's body shook under the shrug of his shoulders. He listened to her explanation and started typing away at his computer, and once satisfied, he turned the monitor to face fumi. Her file, in the 'name' field, had only two words 'Flying Fumi'. "Would that work? It's distinct enough for me to know it is yours, but it also... keeps the anonymity aspect of your name? Hopefully? I'll set up a reminder that you will come in three days. I am not one to guilt-trip, but... do consider how much of a fool I will look if I get a reminder, but you decide not to come. Even technology will mock me." A lightness to his tone betrayed the intention of a joke.
"Forty minutes?" He asked. "Well, I see we have time for some jasmine tea, then. And do not be silly, I will not let a patient clean after themselves. Just because you are in a more manageable state, doesn't mean you are well. If you want to feel better, then simply endure my presence and my boring self for a bit longer just so I do not need to worry."
