ArchivedLogs:Cats and Clinics

Cats and Clinics
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Violet
In Absentia	2014-06-30 The good doctor advises a stranger on the perils of unclean drinking water.
Location <NYC> Central Park South
Central Park South is home not just to the park itself, but also to the Belvedere Castle, the Alice in Wonderland statues, and the Central Park Zoo. These areas tend to draw tourists like a magnet - it is, perhaps, for that very reason that places like Bethesda Terrace tend to attract more New Yorkers than not, if just to escape the press of tourism that infiltrates the whole city. Afternoon in the paths of Central Park brings a (somewhat) quiet oasis from the bustle of the city, especially in the southern part. The warm weather is keeping the ice cream trucks in good business, heat plastering over the city and reflecting off of the countless skyscrapers. Bethesda Terrace is, at least, a few degrees cooler than the rest of the park, the nearby lake and the lower stone setting shaded by trees providing some form of relief. There are not too many people along the marble court - a scatter of children at one end of the court, a few people sitting along benches and here and there, reading the newspaper or taking a break from their work. Sitting along the edge of the fountain is one such person, dressed in an elegant charcoal suit and a sky blue tie that matches his eyes. Iolaus is looking down into the water, eyes focused on the reflection of the trees in the murky pool, as he lazily trails his fingers through it and watches the ripples run through the image and stir it into blobs of color. He looks tired, more than anything else, shoulders curved inwards and a bend along his spine. Fewer people is a positive. Violet is loitering. She is in fact loitering while mutanting, a condition that she cannot exactly help and requires some care taken when venturing out and about. Not that it /keeps/ her from being out and about--and a park with fewer patrons is just the sort of place she enjoys being. The sunshine falling from above, the heady smells of green growing things all around...there’s no keeping her out. But that doesn’t mean she proceeds without caution, especially as the day’s warmth increases her thirst and her one readily available water supply is currently occupied by a man who appears every bit the sort of person her sort prefers to avoid. So she approaches from the opposite side of the fountain, eyes wide, pupils fully dilated and nostrils quivering as she slinks closer. And closer. She has her hood pulled up, her sweater zipped, but with a pair of cut off shorts revealing furry legs and the tail that trails behind her, there’s no mistaking her status. In one hand, a plastic bottle scavenged from you don’t want to know, emptied and held at the ready for dipping. Slow, casual movements are employed, belying the sharp focus directed at Iolaus as the bottle’s mouth is submerged and water glubglubs into the container. “You don’t want to drink that.” Iolaus doesn’t immediately look up from the surface of the water, trailing his hand back and forth in the dark liquid. “They say that the waters of the fountain of Bethesda have healing powers, but in this water, you’re more likely to get Giardia and Leptospirosis.” The doctor looks up at the other woman, flicking his eyes over her once. “Neither of which you want.” He nods at that bottle. “I wouldn’t drink out of that, if I were you. If you’re thirsty, I think there are some water fountains over there.” He lifts his hand, water droplets trailing slowly in the air as he points over in the direction of a small building with a few vendors alongside it. The first note of his voice, drifting through the fountain spray, brings Violet to utter stillness. The bottle, which she’d been in the process of raising, hovers just over the surface and releases its own droplets to fall back in with their fellows. Then as quickly as she’d frozen, she adopts a grin that exposes the all too pointy teeth that fill her mouth. “Hey, big words there. What was that again? Lepto…?” Even two syllables of the word end butchered, ground between the drawling Southern accent she speaks with. She does not pour the bottle out, or otherwise discard the bounty, no matter the sound advice. Partly because she’s straightening up and cocking her head to study the man who’s so advised her. Partly because she does turn a brief look in the direction of that building--and then dismisses it, for reasons not shared. Instead, she brings the water up and at the same time hooks the neckline of her hoodie to pull it out. Ever so casually, she begins pouring down the opening created. Fabric darkens, the stain spreads. “S’hot out,” the catgirl explains. “Leptospirosis. It’s a bacterial disease that causes headaches, muscle pain, bleeding from the lungs and kidney failure.” Iolaus explains, patiently. “In its more severe cases, anyway. It’s not particularly something I’d recommend trying, if you can avoid it. But…” he trails off, watching her pour the water over herself. “That should be fine.” Iolaus turns his head to one side, glancing at a man sitting not too far away - on a nearby bench, watching the interaction between the two like a hawk. The doctor doesn’t spare him more than a few moments look before he turns his attention back to Violet. “It is very hot out. But it sounds to me as if you’re not all that unused to the hot weather.” Iolaus gives the girl a small, warm smile. “Don’t think my lungs’d appreciate bleedin’,” Violet muses as she hikes her chin high and tilts the bottle a little further. The last of the water gurgles out leaving the front of her hoodie several shades darker than its original heather grey. Then she goes in for more, seeming to overlook the attention they’ve drawn. Though, if Iolaus is at all understanding of feline speak, he might notice the twitchiness that comes over her tail, its restless flicking behind her. Otherwise, outwardly, she seems equally friendly, equally casual. “Didn’t figure this place’d be so /humid/,” she admits, orange eyes turning up from bottle to gentleman. “Y’get the idea all these places up here’re just...cold, all th’time. Just my luck, yeah?” A blip in the conversation follows as the bottle is filled a second time and she straightens again. This time she reaches up and back; the hood is drawn off of her head and held away to create a gap. This time, she’s pouring for her spine--and incidentally revealing the full coverage furriness and pointed ears that just highlight her condition. “So I’m guessin’, with you throwin’ words like that around, you’re some kinda...lab guy? Scientist? Doctor?” Iolaus chuckles and nods, once. “Believe me, I only /wish/ it was cold all the time. Both of my parents came from warm places, but I can’t stand it for too long. Especially when it’s this…” he waves his hand in the air. “Oppressive soup. Trying to drown me, or put me in a sous vide.” Whine, whine. The doctor drops his hands back into his lap and nods at Violet. “Yeah. Some days it feels like less a doctor and more a salesman, but yes, I am. Both of those things. And I play at being a scientist, when I can. Less even still.” He chuckles and glances up at the statue above them. “Maybe that’s why I enjoy coming here so much. Leptospirosis and all.” After the last drop of water is shook down the back of her hoodie--the stain spreading over her back now rivalling the one on her front--Violet pushes the bottle into the sweater’s pouch. Enough of that. With a small, neat hop she’s up on the edge of the fountain and pacing along its path, on a course that conveniently leads her away from the looky-loo. When the statue is between herself and the fellow over there on the bench, she slides into a crouch, knees stuck out, tail curling around her ankles and arms rested lightly on her thighs. Also conveniently, this allows her a closer study of Iolaus. “Not sure I could handle being stuck in a lab all day, yeah. S’not normal for folks, even regular ones. Gotta be out. Fresh air, green stuff. Strikin’ up conversations with weirdos. I’m Violet.” Rather than offer a shake--the distance between them too great and she seeming leery of closing it anyway--she flicks her ears at him. “Iolaus.” The man smiles at Violet and gives her a little half-wave. “It’s good to meet you, Violet. That’s Daniel, over there,” he says, gesturing to the man on the bench, still watching the two of them silently. “He works with me. And… as far as the lab is concerned, when you are really focused on what you’re doing, sometimes you just… lose track of time.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Especially if the place you work has no natural light. Hours feel like minutes.” Iolaus laughs and shakes his head. “Maybe that’s part of the reason why so many researchers I know spend most of their grad school in the lab, hiding out. Maybe they just forget that it’s been two months since they saw anyone other than their roommates and their other lab partners.” His voice is teasing, and he winks at Violet playfully. “On the other hand… maybe not.” Violet tips forward, hands braced on cool marble as she leeeeeans to get a look at Daniel around the statue’s pedestal. There goes that tail again. “Hairs go up, the back of my neck when someone’s starin’ at me.” Which is all she’ll say as to Daniel’s presence, considering it enough to pinpoint her feelings on the matter of a distant spotter. Though, as she settles back on her haunches and resumes cat-staring at Iolaus, there’s an added nuance of thoughtfulness in her regard. “Seems a strange way t’live, but that’s just me. I don’t think I have a scientific bone in my body. I’m more th’jock type, yeah?” It’s a remark that amuses her--yes, she laughs at her own jokes--and leaves the young woman grinning again. “How come you got someone followin’ you around, fella? I need t’be worried?” “Oh, you can be more than one. Especially at your age. I know it’s hard to believe, but I used to be a jock too.” Iolaus says, sotto voce, and then laughs. “Hm? Oh, don’t mind him.” Iolaus says, shrugging his shoulders. “Watching is his job, really. And following me around, as well.” His smile is almost affectionate as he glances back at the other man, whose attention has turned to following someone walking down the stairs. “He’s my bodyguard. One of them, I should say. And… no, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. They are very good at what they do, and no one knows that I’m here right now.” Iolaus studies the other girl for a minute, head leaning slightly to one side as he dips his fingers back into the water, up to the first knuckle, and drags it back and forth slowly in it. “I founded a clinic, for people like you. The Mendel Clinic. It was not a very popular decision, I’m afraid.” She can’t help it: the back and forth of his hand pulls Violet’s gaze like moths to a lightbulb. That movement is tracked until she forces her eyes up again to lock on the doctor’s face. Her head cocks to one side. “Sure, if y’got brains and a body. I just got th’body, and that’s plenty for me.” She proves it by handwalking forward while keeping her rear stationary; in seconds she’s stretched out on her belly--with a little adjusting for the bottle in her pouch--and kicking her bare heels up behind her. Her chin rests in cupped palms. “I know you’re here right now,” is habitual sass. Less spur of the moment and decidedly more thoughtful is, “Wait...I heard about that. That was pretty big news, most places. For some folk. Y’mean founded like...it was your idea?” Iolaus gives a short clap and a smile, laughing quietly to himself. “You should become a dancer,” he says. “Or an acrobat. I bet the balance beam would be no trouble at all for you. Or…” he waves his hand in the air, pursing his lips. “Uh. The parallel… parallel bars.” He lifts his hand out of the water, shaking it out and causing little droplets to spray across the surface of the water, leaving tiny ripples in their wake. “It wasn’t just me. Lots of people were involved, even at the very beginning.” Iolaus demurs, but a moment later, he nods. “But… yes. I helped push it along, at the beginning, before I was able to get people much more qualified than me to help get it done.” He smiles and laces his fingers together in his lap. “Comes with th’territory. Bein’ all bendy. Done some dancin’, some places. None fit for talkin’ in polite company though.” Violet lets one eye shut, in the most solemn of winks--/focusing/ on that tiny blink of expression to keep from watching the water scatter and make little rings in the pool. Even when she contributes her own ripples, when her tail flicks a little too far thataway and ends up slapping the surface. /That/ gets a full-body twitch but she goes on to pretend it didn’t happen. Like a pro. “You sound like you got a good case of th’modest. Guess it helps though, spreadin’ out th’blame, yeah?” Cat humor. She might sneezesnort afterward, but no one else need feel obligated to find the joke funny. “S’good work though. Can’t say it didn’t maybe enter my mind, pickin’ a place to wander into, knowin’ there was somewhere I could go if I ended up cornered or broke a claw or somethin’,” she goes on to add, shifting a hand forward and flexing fingers to study said claws. They are a pristine and unbroken white at the moment. Iolaus’ smile fades slightly as Violet talks about her dancing, and his expression turns serious only moments later. “If you ever need help - from a doctor, or… if you just want to talk to one of our social workers, they may be able to help you get access to some different resources you may not know about.” Iolaus offers, gently. “You can just come in any time. Worst comes to worst, it’s a place to grab a bite to eat and get an appointment scheduled for another time.” Iolaus’ voice is carefully modulated, even and calm - perhaps mistaking Violet for a mouse, rather than a cat. “We’re not far. Over in the Lower East Side.” That provokes another series of dainty little sneezes. When they end, Violet’s eyes are brighter, though whether that twinkle is from allergies or amusement is up to Iolaus to decide. “I appreciate it, thank you, sir. I’m doin’ pretty well by myself though if it comes t’that, I’ll be there, y’can be sure of it. Just...not enough resources t’go around, I know, and better they go t’someone who really needs th’help, yeah? I’m no kitten.” You know. In case he really /did/ mistake her for a mouse. “Sure is a /giving/ city though. Nothin’ like I figured it’d be.” “Everyone needs help at some point or another, and a little bit of help now can prevent a lot of help down the line,” Iolaus counters, brightly. “It’s one of the reasons why I /founded/ the Mendel Clinic. Being healthy starts with primary care, not surgery or emergency medicine. A vaccine is way easier than drugs to treat the diseases that they prevent.” Iolaus spreads his hands out, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not saying that you need to come. Just that you don’t have to stay away because others need help too. If it’s not urgent, we’ll give you a later appointment. That’s all. You know?” “I end up bleedin’, y’can be sure I’ll be on your doorstep faster’n a designer dog can bark. Cross m’heart. I’m not really goin’ without too much though. Don’t lose any sleep over me, yeah? I got food, and roofs over m’head,” yes, plural, “and pretty much everything a girl like me could want.” Except possibly more stretching, but Violet handles it by pushing herself back up into a crouch and doing just that. Streeeeetch, arms locked and fingers laced. A yawn follows, the pink curl of her tongue briefly visible before she relaxes, smacking her lips. The hoodie remains droopy and heavy with excess water. “Speakin’ of, I’m gonna go rustle up some dinner. Was nice meetin’ ya, Doctor Iolaus,” she says as she pulls out the bottle and scoops it up full before hopping down from the fountain. “It was good meeting you as well, Violet.” Iolaus says, raising a hand in a little wave goodbye. “I promise not to worry, as long as you promise to come if you need the help, alright? A trade, fair’s fair.” His eyes twinkle, though, and his lips curl at the edges from a suppressed smile. “Have a good evening.”