ArchivedLogs:Star Crossed Doctors

Star Crossed Doctors
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Rasheed, Shelby	2013-05-02 '
Location <NYC> Construction Site - Lower East Side
The construction site is busybusy, loud and clangy with -- construction noises. Heavy machinery, things being hammered and drilled and cut, people shouting orders, people shouting insults. In all this, workboots and jeans and sweaty burly muscles in the warm spring air, Rasheed looks pretty out of place. Thin and reedy, gangly limbs swathed in neatly tailored slacks, neatly tailored dress shirt, shoes polished although here they are starting to collect dust. And yet here he is! With a large brown paper bag that smells a lot like lunch. It's probably not /most/ people's choice of lunch location, and yet. Rasheed watches the construction with all evident signs of interest, curiously observing the workers go through their heavy industrial dance. He holds his large paper bag at his side, holds a hard hat that he has yet to don under his other arm. Mostly, though, he just stands by the fence, and watches. Iolaus looks a little bit out of place as well in a white dress shirt and black slacks, but unlike Rasheed, he has a hard hat with him /and/ it has a company logo on it.  CLIENT, it says.  Jane, his eternal not-very-puppy-like companion, is walking several steps behind, one on her head already as they walk around the block.  He smiles and gives a little wave as he heads towards Rasheed.  "Good afternoon, Rasheed.  How are you doing, today?" he asks, brightly. No one told Shelby there was a dress code. Her lone concession to being on a construction site is the flannel shirt she's knotted at her stomach. The rest is pure teenager--shorts, sneakers, fingerless gloves and a skateboard. Oh, and that hard hat. Yes, Iolaus insisted. A step ahead of Jane and several behind the doc, she spots Rasheed around the same time. CLACK, the board is tossed to the ground and she launches forward to speed past Iolaus--it's a race! She who gets there first gets to check out the paper bag! "Hey doc!" "Oh!" Rasheed looks over, dark eyes slightly widening; for a moment he straightens out of his habitual slouch as he looks Shelby over. "I did not know /you/ were -- hello." There's a distinct long pause as he very clearly is struggling to place a: "-- Shelby." He seems so proud of himself for a moment for remembering this. "How is the music career going?" The paper bag holds Indian food -- a box of samosas with onion and tamarind chutneys on the side, rice, potato-chickpea curry, very creamy-orange chicken curry. Some napkins. Some plasticware. Rasheed relinquishes the bag to Teenager, nodding with a warmer smile to Iolaus. "Hungry," he says. "It's strange to stand here and watch all this. At this point it could grow into anything." Iolaus gives Rasheed a little bit of an apologetic look flashed while Shelby is not looking, though there is a small, almost affectionate look on his face.  Ssh, don't tell.  His eyes turn to look at the beginnings of a building beginning to take shape far beneath them, and his smile widens.  "Have I shown you the renderings that our architect did up?  It will be quite a fantastic building to look at.  But, I suspect, the thing that will make it what it will grow into is nowhere down in that pit." Obvious pride earns an amused grin from Shelby. "I got back early from school," she explains. This probably translates to: ‘I invited myself along'. "I'm getting some serious views on YouTube, you oughta check me out. DeviantSpectrum." There's a pause. "That's my account name there, you just search for it." Because adults may not be familiar with the process. And then huzzah, food! The happily takes the bag, tucking it in one arm like a baby and pulling it open to sniff at the steam rising from the dishes inside. "Oh man, this smells /amazing/..." Quick, someone tell her she has to share. Rasheed's lips quirk. He looks back towards the pit that will, slowly, be transformed into a clinic, but his eyes slant sideways towards Iolaus. "No. But I still suspect that /that/ can be found right here, all the same." His arms cross across his chest, fingers drumming against the shell of the hard hat he is not wearing. "YouTube." The way he echoes this does not /suggest/ a /great/ amount of familiarity with cat videos but. Rasheed nods. "You -- sing, on there?" He glances towards the bag, and then towards Iolaus. "It is Indian," he tells the other doctor. "I suggest you eat some before it all vanishes. How is school going?" He is an adult, he is morally obligated to ask this question. "She does.  Believe me, I know." Iolaus affirms, a little color seeping into his cheeks as he nods his head once, respectfully, at the other man.  "Come on, Shelby.  It's not all for you, bottomless pit.  I don't know where you manage to put all that food." he looks at Rasheed and gives a smile and a wink. The doctor's attention focuses down on the pit for a moment, one hand coming up to grasp the chain link fence as he gazes down into it.  "Perhaps it is not that important, but seeing it begin to be built is certainly a..." he trails off, turning to look at Rasheed, lips pressed into a thin line.  "Mm.  It's very much a different experience than just fundraising.  It feels, somehow... /real/." Is that...is that a blush? Shelby's rummaging slows down as she glances between the two men, pale eyebrows lifting. "I do, yep," she confirms on the heels of Iolaus. A small grin appears. "I shot a couple in his bedroom, even. Videos, I mean. Of me singing." Slight stress on the word singing, so there is no misunderstanding. "You should check it out." Now, does she mean because the singing is worth it or because the bedroom is? It is a mystery. The box of samosas is wiggled out of the bag and flipped open to be offered. "My tits." Re: where all the food goes. Not that it /shows/. "Hey, when it's finished...the building, I mean...you think I can put up a mural?" "It /is/ real," Rasheed says, with a touch of amusement. "And no, you never did show me the renderings. I have just imagined. Hopefully --" He glances around the sort of run-down neighborhood, at least what is visible through the fence, "-- it will look nicer than its neighbors." He stretches out an arm, plucks a samosa from the box with -- only a /brief/ frozen moment at Shelby's answer. His eyes shift, automatic, inadvertent, towards Shelby's chest when it is mentioned, and almost as quickly jerk away to look back to Iolaus instead. "Ah -- teenagers," he says wryly, "who knows where they ever put any of it." The question of murals is Iolaus's to answer and so he doesn't; instead, though, he does say, "This neighborhood could use some livening up. And artwork by mutant artists would be /fitting/, certainly." Laughing, Iolaus shakes his head as he grins at Shelby.  "I just hope singing is all you're doing in my bedroom." he chuckles, reaching in and taking a samosa.  He shakes his head, once, turning to glance back at the hole in the ground.  "I wash my sheets just in case." he mutters in a quiet tone to Rasheed that is just loud enough to be heard over the jackhammers. "I don't see why not.  I have to admit, I haven't thought so far ahead as to think about what I'm going to /put/ on the walls besides equipment.  Heck, I haven't even thought up the paint." Iolaus rubs his nose with one knuckle, thoughtfully, crumbling little samosa bits onto the ground as he moves.  "I wonder if Hive will do it for me."  Samosa -> Mouth. "Not in the doc's /bed/," Shelby says to Rasheed, though his comment was not directed her way. She saw an opening and she went for it, so there. The grin remains. "I haven't brought anyone over yet ‘cause it's just the one bedroom. But I was gonna this weekend. My roommate from up at the school," she clarifies with a glance at her host doctor. "If that's okay." A samosa is taken for herself, popped into her mouth and munched on. Of course, she talks while chewing. "You should ask Jax. I mean. Hive's awesome but Jax is the arty guy." The teen pauses for a beat. An ominous beat, considering the sudden rush of brightness in her eyes. "Oh man, we could work together to decorate the place. That could be my /job/." Money! Shelby is all for this plan. "Hive. That is the architect, yes?" Rasheed has not yet bitten his samosa. He glances over at Jane, and offers it towards her. "You have quite a while to consider it. I imagine a project of this size takes -- quite a while to complete." His smile is a little crooked, here. "All the better. It leaves me more time to pare down my current clientele. Free my time for my upcoming life of mendicancy." Though all things considered he doesn't actually sound bothered at all about winnowing down his lucrative private practice for Iolaus's probably moneylosing enterprise. "Music /and/ art? You have many talents." Probably? How generous.  Iolaus glances at Jane and then back to Rasheed.  "Yes, exactly.  And, I imagine, quite some time, yes.  Hive has given me several ETAs, but..." he trails off, lips quirking upwards into a small smile.  "I don't plan on holding him to any of them.  I should ask Jax, though from what I understand, he already has three jobs.  I'm not sure a fourth is a good thing to offer him." he points out, winking at Shelby.  "Still. We will see.  Nothing says that we have to have all the art up on the walls when we open the doors." Jane does not accept the samosa.  Jane is busy glancing around, frowning at the WORLD. Iolaus glances over Rasheed's expression several times, finishing off the last of the samosa in his hand as he gives the other man a thoughtful look.  "I have to admit, Rasheed, I have been almost expecting you to realize what a terrible idea this is for you." he admits, smile flashing briefly wider.  "And I am very grateful for your bad judgement."  he says, a note of light teasing in his tone. "What's a mendicancy? Is that a doctor thing?" Sadly, this is a genuine question. Shelby asks as she makes for another samosa. All of those delicious other things, including the chutney? /Ignored/. At least she is willing to offer the bag up to the nearest hand after she's had this second helping. "I'm taking acting at school too, I'm totally gonna be a triple threat. Good thing ‘cause I'm flunking everything else." Only she could sound amused by news like that. "And it doesn't need to be a /job/ for him. You dunno how I work, I could get it done like...overnight," she adds in a reasonable tone--reasonable for Shelby, which means she is slightly annoyed they are UNDERESTIMATING her. "Just need the paint and an idea to work from. Wait..." Blue-green eyes narrow at Rasheed. "Holy shit, you're gonna be working for Doc?" Rasheed nibbles on the samosa when it is rejected. "You should put the art on the outside walls," he suggests, in a quiet thoughtful and oh-so-/very/-serious murmur, "Perhaps a large target?" Totally serious. "Acting, too. Well. This is a good city for show business." He does take the chutney, carefully pouring a small amount into the samosa once the end has been nibbled off. "I will be working at this clinic, yes. I suppose," he acknowledges with a slight dip of his head, "that that will make Iolaus my, mm. Boss." The idea seems to amuse him. "I have thought many times about what a terrible idea it is," he admits to Io. "Many -- many times." "But you have not managed to convince yourself.  I am the better for it," Iolaus says, brightly, eyes sweeping over Rasheed's face.  He reaches in and takes some chutney as well, and retrieves another samosa from Shelby.  A dangerous game, taking food from a teenager, and he does it with little a care. "Perhaps, Shelby.  We will have to see what you are up to when it gets close to opening.  If you want to do a mural, I am sure that something can be done.  Overall, I don't know - but we will see." Iolaus says, giving her a warm smile.  "Don't want painting to get in the way of your music career." "That's /awesome/." Shelby fully supports this plan. Her eyes gleam even brighter now as she licks her lips clean of crumbs and looks from Iolaus to Rasheed. Speculation--it's frightening seeing it there in her study of them. "I mean, yeah. Doc's gonna need all the help he can get and you know your shit. Maybe it won't be so bad?" Oh, who is she kidding. Even Shelby herself isn't fooled by the question. She grins. "If painting pays and music doesn't, I'm all for it. I need new clothes," she adds, lifting one foot and turning it to show off the almost-splits forming in the side of her sneaker. "Oh, so long as we don't get killed," Rasheed says, a little wryly, "I'll count it a success." With his next bite of samosa, tamarind chutney drips down his fingers; he leans forward at a slight angle so that it drips off onto the ground and not his neat suit. With a quiet semi-annoyed chuff of breath, he licks chutney from his finger and takes another large bite. "... It would hardly be unusual for actually wanting to earn money to get in the way of a music career." "True! I have known a few musicians - one of them went to medical school with me, actually. His plan was to be a doctor on the side while persuing his medical career," Iolaus says, chuckling. "He is now, I think, neither a musician nor a doctor right now, at the moment. I think he works at some... resturant, working as a chef? I guess that is its own form of art." he muses, mostly to himself. Shelby slides a look towards Jane. "I think the government fucks could come after this place with tanks and we'd probably be okay. She's a total badass." This is the highest compliment she is capable of awarding--even if Jane kind of does freak her out and she's shared all of six words with the woman before. The bag is plundered again for a paper napkin which is...handed to Iolaus to give to Rasheed. Efficiency! "Seriously? A chef? Man...not me." "I imagine Jane will be more than competent," Rasheed agrees. "Which is good. I have seen the types of protesters Planned Parenthood attacks, and this is in many ways more controversial." He pops the rest of his samosa into his mouth. Mmm, potato. "It's strange, where people end up, really. I went through many career possibilities before settling on mine. Who knows." The smile he flashes to Shelby is quick. "/You/ might end up a doctor, some day." "I was going to be an Olympian." Iolaus says, softly, a brief flash of a smile on his face. "Before I was going to be a doctor, I mean, when I was in undergrad. But I decided to become a doctor instead, and here I am today. A target for bombers to practice on." he says, voice teasingly light. He passes the napkin to Rasheed, extending it to the other man with a warm smile. "At least it is me, rather than the rest of my staff." Jane does not find this joke amusing. In fact, she finds very little amusing. She gives Shelby a tight little nod of gratitude, though - equally, the highest acknowledgement of a compliment she is capable of, short of a 'Yes, sir!'. The idea of Shelby being a doctor is worthy of a snort. She obliges. "Yeah right. I'm failing algebra /and/ bio, you kinda need those, I think." Of more interest to the teen is the more grim discussion of attacks. "What sort've things do they do?" she asks of Rasheed, head tilted like a curious puppy. "I saw some at a clinic once but it was just people with dumb signs, shouting at ladies going inside. They really gonna try to bomb the doc?" "An Olympian?" Rasheed looks surprised, at this, pausing for a moment as he takes the napkin from Iolaus. His eyes flick down along Iolaus's form, and then back up. "I -- did not know that. In what field?" The question of bombing furrows his brows together. He is quiet, for a moment, looking away from Iolaus and Shelby both as he wipes his fingers clean and dry. "Iolaus has very good security," he says, just a hint more tightness in his voice. Iolaus looks up at Rasheed and gives a little shrug of his shoulders. "Men's foil. If I had kept it up for a couple more years, I would almost certainly have made the team." His voice is light, but there is a slight tone of regret in his voice. "Perhaps even won a medal, I don't know. But it was medical school or that, and I chose medical school." He glances at Shelby and waves. "Don't worry about me. Jane has things under control. Whatever they come at us with, we'll be ready." There they are, trying to have a real conversation, and here is Shelby gradually adopting a frown. "Look, dudes, I'm not a /kid/," she warns them. "I'm living with you, aren't I? I should know what could happen, right? There /or/ here. 'Cause you know when it's up and running, I'm totally gonna wanna get a summer job here for the money and shit. Jesus. You'd think I was like...a /little girl/ or something." Fortunately there is food there to console herself with. She rummages, comes up with the container of chicken curry and pops it open to attack with a plastic fork. Glowering all the while. "Fencing? Really. I dabbled in high school but never --" Rasheed shakes his head, slightly. "It's such a beautiful sport --" He breaks off, distracted by Shelbymope, to examine her frown. His own expression levels out into thoughtful, and he glances to Iolaus with eyebrows raised. YOUR kid, dude, not interfering. This is totally his current look. Because. Other People's Children. "Yes, yes it is." Iolaus says, and his voice is softened by nostalgia. He turns to look at Shelby, and his gaze is even. "From the threat assessment that Jane has told me, I should expect several attempts at assassination by the radical right. Mostly disorganized, mostly single people. Bombs, guns, you name it, they might try it." he says. "I'm going to keep a low profile, and I'm investing in a good set of body armor. Don't worry. We have it under control." he says, softly, reaching out to squeeze Shelby's shoulder. What follows is a long, slow blink and a look of incomprehension. Shelby glances at Rasheed as if he can confirm this. For once, she waits until she has finished chewing and swallowing her current mouthful before speaking. "And how come we're still staying in that shitty apartment?" she inquires. "The security team being put together is excellent," Rasheed says, with a very faint frown. "Because it needs to be. This clinic is the first of its kind -- in the world. I imagine I don't need to tell you how hostile people can be towards mutants. Or, I suppose, those who help them." He rummages in the bag, pulling out rice and pouring some of the aloo chole over it. He gets a spoon, too. But he doesn't eat it; he hands the little plastic tub of rice and curry to Iolaus. "... My building has rather good security," he is musing this almost to himself. "Your building? Rasheed, if you can afford to live there, I am almost certain that I can't." Iolaus drawls, with a laugh. "Besides, my apartment is perfectly suitable. No one knows I live there - it's near a police station - and it's nice enough to live in, but not nice enough that you'd think a CEO would be living there." "They maybe don't know /now/," Shelby mumbles into her curry, "but it's right on the street. One sniper rifle and pow.../I/ don't wanna get shot in the head. It's not like I can do anything to stop them, any more than you can." In short, neither of them is Jane. She mopes as if it had not occurred to her that /she/ was in potential danger before. "If Doctor T--uh. Doctor T thinks his building would be better, maybe you could at least go look at it," she suggests. Without guile. Or giving the game away by looking at either of them through lowered lashes. "His security team stays at the apartment as well -- That is a question, though," Rasheed's brow furrows. "How much is security necessary to guard the /other/ people in your life? They are rather important, too." Rasheed is still offering /food/ out to Iolaus. This time, he goes so far as to nudge the other man with a prod of bony fingers. Iolaus takes the food and smiles. "Shelby is at school most of the time and has no relation to me that anyone would be able to tell. The rest of my staff... well, we hope that I will be a more attractive target, and we are going to take some efforts to make sure that relations to the clinic are not widely known. Paid through third parties, first name basis, and so on." he says, waving a now-containing-food hand, before he takes a fork from the bag and opens the plastic lid. There is no one else on his list. "I'm gonna be in your apartment. If I was gonna try to kill you, I'd figure that out pretty quick. I don't think crazy people knock off on weekends," Shelby says, a skeptical note creeping into her voice. But...Iolaus sounds so /certain/. So she shrugs and returns to making inroads on the curry. "Are you gonna put me on your insurance?" "Health insurance or life insurance?" Rasheed's brows furrow deeper with this question. And then his head shakes suddenly. "Look. This is all quite a while away, the clinic will not even be /built/ until next year. Perhaps we should just enjoy our lunch. And the weather. And our /lives/." "You have health insurance through the school, I think, and my life insurance policy..." Iolaus chuckles and shakes his head bemusedly. "I've been advised to keep my benefactors a secret, lest I get shot unexpectedly." he teases Shelby, lightly. He looks up at Rasheed and nods. "Rasheed is right. This is a depressing conversation best saved for another time. Come on - let's go see how the work is progressing." he says, and takes the lead towards the gate of the construction site. "Fiiine. I'm just sayin', everything /else/ is going wrong lately. Doesn't hurt to make /sure/" See? This is Shelby being /practical/. Planning for her /future/. Eating the last of the chicken curry without /sharing/. Baby steps. She stuffs the fork in the container, aims the container for the bag, then stoops to pick up her board before following the doc. One hand steadies her hard hat. "You should definitely try to hire only the /hottest/ nurses," she advises as they go. "Make people wanna come here." This draws another smile out of Rasheed. But it's thin, and brief. "Of course people will come here," he says, with a quick sharp breath. He follows after the others, finally actually lifting his hard hat to his head. "Where else would they go?"