[ 92nd consult | action ]

[dr_conscience]

[As Wilson goes about his business at the hospital today, he's wearing a t-shirt under his lab coat. He does do his best to keep it mostly obscured, but you might catch it anyway. It reads:]

I WAS KILLED BY SHEEP AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT

[Before work, after work, or at work, he'll be wearing it because he has no other choice - and though he tries to cover it with a jacket, they all just keep opening. After a while, he just lets them stay that way.]

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[anunluckypenny]

[Before the workday starts, Penny is outside walking the dogs--something that's normally reserved for late afternoon, but she's not that eager to show off her new shirt. Try as she might, her cardigan can't hide MY LIFE WAS TRAGIC, I DIED HORRIBLY, AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.

At least it doesn't mention Captain Hammer and that time he sung about their intimacy in front of the entirety of Los Angeles. That's about the only part of her existence that Penny hasn't come to terms with.

It's purely coincidental that she almost walks into Wilson (she would have tried to avoid him if she hadn't been watching the ground). Before she can so much as apologize for not watching where she's going, she sees his shirt... and is appropriately horrified. And sorry. And maybe confused.]

Oh. Woah.

[dr_conscience]

[Well this is a fun day, isn't it?

He can't even be that worried about his own, with her shirt right there. As bad as his is, hers seems far, far worse to him. So of course he looks concerned and a bit distraught.

He purses his lips as he nods at her assessment.]

Yeah. I think... that about covers today.

[anunluckypenny]

[She can't decide if that's tragic or--no, it's not funny, not even in a morbid way.]

I'm so, so sorry, James.

[This seems like a hug-worthy occasion and so, in spite of the dogs' insistent tugging at their leashes, Penny hugs Wilson tightly.]

[dr_conscience]

[It's an unexpected hug. Not exactly surprising, from Penny, but he hadn't been anticipating it. So it's a brief moment before he hugs her back.]

It's all right... I'm all right.

[By now, that really is mostly true, though now and again, some unexpected noise if he's walking alone can make him jumpy, or the occasional nightmare will pop up. But compared to some of the other shirts he's seen today, compared to hers-]

I should be the one saying I'm sorry.

[anunluckypenny]

Are you sure? I mean, that's--I don't even know. I'd need therapy.

[No one is supposed to anticipate spontaneous hugs. Penny pulls away and fusses with Wilson's jacket in an attempt to convince it to cover his shirt.

The dogs look distinctly unimpressed by the delay, if resigned.]

There's nothing to be sorry about, I promise. I'm good.

[dr_conscience]

Yeah... I am.

[He looks down slightly, not entirely unable to suppress thoughts of it. The shirt, thankfully, has left out the part he found most disturbing: turning on House and Chase, retaining awareness and cognition even as he lost control of his actions.

But he doesn't let himself dwell. It's been years, and he came back - heartbeat and all. He's well acquainted enough with psychology that he doesn't think that should make it okay, but what's left to fix? There isn't any accepted therapy in place to help you deal with coming back from the dead, because that's simply not possible. He does look back up, managing a smile that isn't particularly enthused. Her words aside, he remains certain Penny's been dealt a far worse hand than he has, and it feels wrong - selfish - to worry about his own problems, the life he's been given back. And yet, she's so... well-adjusted here. He could never want to tear that down.]

You are, aren't you?

[anunluckypenny]

Okay.

[Trying to cover the shirt up isn't helping; Penny gives up.

She isn't a psychologist. When she tries to help people or understand what they're feeling, Penny depends on emotion--on gut instinct and empathy, not analysis. She doesn't meditate too much on mental states, including her own. Perhaps it indicates some flaw in her ability to process events, but Penny has a talent for recovering from the bad things life throws her way. She means it when she says she's okay.]

Completely, so don't worry. [She does, however, cross her arms to obscure at least part of the shirt.] Mostly? I don't want anyone feeling bad for me.

[dr_conscience]

[He's just given to worrying, to focusing on emotional and mental states in others. And he worries that Penny isn't more hung up on dealing with her own experiences, but maybe it is for the best. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Either way, he's happy she does have the City, that it's given her an opportunity to have a new life.]

I'll try not to worry. I'm not great at that, you know.

[With a little smile,]

But I can, at least, promise not to feel bad for you.

[anunluckypenny]

That'll do. I guess you wouldn't be you if there wasn't at least a little worrying.

[errandry]

Wait—seriously? Did they trample you or what?

[dr_conscience]

[Oh yeah he totally wants to field this one.]

Not... exactly.

It was here, a couple of years ago, and they, ah-- they were definitely not normal sheep.

[errandry]

—sorry! About that. It's just kinda weird even for this place—and yeah, I guess they wouldn't be normal if they got to people.

[dr_conscience]

No-- it's all right. I know it's... unusual, and if you weren't here for it, it's really not a question I can blame you for.

They were hyper-aggressive and infected with a virus that was transmitted when they bit people.

[hexuality]

[So it's just her luck that she's run out of food for the cats and needs to buy more. Well, that's what happens when you've suddenly adopted two more, but really, of all days—except Helena, Hal, and Hotspur wouldn't stop meowing at her until she got more food. So here she is, surreptitiously making her way through the City, but her jacket does a poor job of hiding I WAS POSSESSED AND ... very much.

Which is why she's hoisting the massive bag of dry cat food in her arms instead of using magic to make her life easier. It covers up her chest nicely. But it's also heavy. See this struggle, Wilson.]

[dr_conscience]

[He does see this struggle. And, of course, it seems a bit odd that she's not floating the bag along somehow, but there could be any number of reasons that she isn't using magic.

After all, he doesn't really know how magic works. Maybe she has a cold and having a cold throws it off what does the oncologist from the most un-magic state in the world know. So when he sees her, he approaches her.]

Ginny?

[He proceeds doubtfully, his tone indicating that he already thinks the answer is no, but hey. He doesn't know.]

Do you need any help?

[hexuality]

Dr Wilson!

[She recognises his voice immediately and peeks around the bag to look at him, brows raised and expression startled.]

No, no, I'm absolutely fine, I promise. [Excuse her while she adjusts her grip on the bag, ahem.] How, er, how are you?

[dr_conscience]

Me? Oh--

[He'd like it if his jacket would stay buttoned, but it won't]

I'm all right.

[With the slightest frown... and the first thought that maybe he knows what's going on here.]

Are you-- you're sure?

[hexuality]

Yes.

[Quietly firm and insistent. She can manage this, she's played sports for years, her arms should be like iron. Ginny raises her knee to the bag and pushes it a bit more securely into her arms.]

It's just a bit— [Oh, okay, maybe not balanced enough on one leg to manage that little trick, the bag slips and the shirt is painfully exposed as it lands on the ground.] Damn it!

[dr_conscience]

[Well there's some confirmation. There's a softly, sympathetic smile as he moves to lift the bag - heavy, even for him - and offer it back to her.]

You know, I do have to say this much - that plan really does show some impressive ingenuity.

[hexuality]

[She huffs out a breath and whips her wand out from her back pocket now that her hands are free, flicking it rather carelessly at the bag so it's suddenly feather-light.

Rather flatly,]

Yeah, I'm nothing if not creative. Apparently so's the City.

[dr_conscience]

[And he almost throws it in the air. He only stumbles slightly, recovering as if he completely meant to do that. That's more awkward than he really likes to seem.]

Isn't it usually?

I'd have brought a few patient files home, but the curse probably would have sent a gust of wind by to scatter them.

[Levity. Because he doesn't want to aggressively broach the topics provided by the shirts.]

[hexuality]

[She smiles a little at the cover-up and extends her free hand to take the bag back.]

I'd help you pick them up if that happened. Distractions, right? Better than—well, you know.

[dr_conscience]

[With his own smile as he hands it back,]

Well, it would be very much appreciated. Somehow, I doubt anyone's particularly keen on the... suggested topics.

[hexuality]

Oh, so possession's not really your cup of tea either?

[Making light of it's the best course of action, right? Right. Though the tips of her ears are still a bright red from how flustered she actually is.]

[dr_conscience]

Not particularly.

[His smile is soft, sympathetic; he doesn't mind making light of it, it's a recognized method of coping, but he does move to empathize.]

Not that I have extensive experience, of course. I doubt the slug ordeal is all that comparable.

[hexuality]

[She draws in a breath at this and immediately softens around the edges. Wasn't the slug ordeal the time she truly, seriously considered telling at least some people about her experience with Tom and the diary? To try and get them to trust her in the aftermath, to get her friends to open up to her because she understood?]

Yeah. It is.

[dr_conscience]

[He nods wordlessly at that, taking a breath. Possession, being from his background, isn't really something he considers himself qualified to talk about. He didn't want to make assumptions about experiences that weren't his own, drawing comparisons where they'd be more insensitive than helpful. But given the indication that it's not too far off base, he speaks again after a moment.]

In that case, I'm definitely not a fan. And as a topic for conversation... I'm sure that you already know, intellectually, that nothing that you were made to do was your fault. But, I doubt that feeling better about it is as simple as rationally understanding something.

[hexuality]

It was a long time ago, Dr Wilson. I was a kid. I know that now.

[She doesn't really mean to say it, but it's her way of justifying that she should have come to terms with it years ago. Eleven years old. In truth, sometimes she feels like she's the only person who really remembers it (I forgot, Harry said; Lucky you, she'd shot back)—or, rather, not remembers it, given the snatches of memory Tom had let her keep.

Ginny smiles a bit.]

You know that too, don't you? I hope so.

[dr_conscience]

Well, I'm glad that you know that. I just mean that... as far as conversation goes, there isn't much else most people can say.

[He purses his lips slightly for a moment, but that turns into a small, tight smile with a nod.]

But yes, I know it.

[hexuality]

I'm sorry that you have to, though. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.