Dr Robert Chase (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
intheblanks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2012-05-10 03:13 am
intheblanks) wrote in poly_chromatic2012-05-10 03:13 am
Entry tags:
018: ASSORTED
VIDEO;
[A charming domestic scene. Chase's dimly lit bedroom, too-early morning light filtering through the curtains. Watch as the good doctor wakes up, gets out of bed, drags a comb across his head, makes for the door and trips over the cat.
From its spot on the bookcase, Chase's device spools out video of the animal, a small but energetic creature, hopping up onto the edge of the bed and chirping, while someone groans, out of sight.
When Chase stands, swimming back up into view, he's pushing his hands through his hair again. Or trying. Accessory to the boxer shorts and pillow creased face, a fine pair of tabby kitty ears now protrude through mussed blond. Frowning, Chase traces the outline of one as he notices the small record light not too far in front of him, and reaches to switch off the video with what's either a growl or a purr.]
>Clinic Duty;
[Even neko-doctors have to earn a buck. The ears are making life surprisingly difficult around the hospital: he can't get his surgical cap over them, or operate when he's at risk of shedding on the patient - at least the pussy jokes never get old. Care to make another?]
>Coffee Break;
[Apparently breeding season has the squirrels on their guard. By the time Chase has made it under a line of trees he's sporting tall red ears, indignantly pricked.]
>Home Again, Home again;
[If he'd had more time to think about it while trying to detach its jaws from his arm, he'd swear that dog had a touch of wolf in it. If he could see his ears now, wide, silver grey, he'd know for sure.]
{ooc- (Not!Awesome Powers): Chase has the involuntary ability to manifest the ears (and a few select traits) of whatever animal he touches. Placeholder-y as I am not!well tonight.}
[A charming domestic scene. Chase's dimly lit bedroom, too-early morning light filtering through the curtains. Watch as the good doctor wakes up, gets out of bed, drags a comb across his head, makes for the door and trips over the cat.
From its spot on the bookcase, Chase's device spools out video of the animal, a small but energetic creature, hopping up onto the edge of the bed and chirping, while someone groans, out of sight.
When Chase stands, swimming back up into view, he's pushing his hands through his hair again. Or trying. Accessory to the boxer shorts and pillow creased face, a fine pair of tabby kitty ears now protrude through mussed blond. Frowning, Chase traces the outline of one as he notices the small record light not too far in front of him, and reaches to switch off the video with what's either a growl or a purr.]
>Clinic Duty;
[Even neko-doctors have to earn a buck. The ears are making life surprisingly difficult around the hospital: he can't get his surgical cap over them, or operate when he's at risk of shedding on the patient - at least the pussy jokes never get old. Care to make another?]
>Coffee Break;
[Apparently breeding season has the squirrels on their guard. By the time Chase has made it under a line of trees he's sporting tall red ears, indignantly pricked.]
>Home Again, Home again;
[If he'd had more time to think about it while trying to detach its jaws from his arm, he'd swear that dog had a touch of wolf in it. If he could see his ears now, wide, silver grey, he'd know for sure.]
{ooc- (Not!Awesome Powers): Chase has the involuntary ability to manifest the ears (and a few select traits) of whatever animal he touches. Placeholder-y as I am not!well tonight.}
Action:
No, it's cows blood.
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Go outside. Take a breath.
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[He nods agreement but doesn't move. Since she got him up, it would have taken a wrench to drag his attention away from her face.]
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Is he still-
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Is he still watching?
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Omushona?
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Is that what I am.
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It means, roughly, one who is younger than me. In Oshiwambo.
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[But he's concentrating more on the phrase 'worked up'. There's no reason for it (and he knows his triggers by now, knows what to avoid).]
I. Don't think I'm. Worked up.
[Nevermind the effort to force the words through.]
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[That is not an African proverb.]
You're afraid.
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[His heart must be audible to both of them, with how loud his pulse is in his ears.]
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[It's the last thing anyone owes him. A residual surge of adrenaline tightens his chest and he screws his eyes tightly closed.]
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I instigated this fear.
[She watches him]
Breathe.
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[The words are a strain, but the easiest way to force breath through.]
What's the difference between playing God and doing his work?
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I don't believe in God, Robert.
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[He shakes his head. It's an absurdity. God's already turned him away as much as he's turned away from God.]
I just wish I knew the difference.
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You're a doctor, but you're still human.
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[And the worst, he knows, is that the hangover from this will stay with him. He'll be catching shadows in the corner of his eye, be spooked by the corridors he works in, for days. And that's the daytime.]
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