Doctor...Who?

[Connor Harrison]

City Unknown
Dosuun, Wild Space

Connor Harrison was only identifiable by the nasty wound under his eye, the multiple scars on his body and his Force aura that nobody knew in the depths of Wild Space. Other than that, he had his lightsaber hilt hidden, wrapped tight under cloth around his waist under three brown belts. But he didn't have his tunic or cloak. He wore basic smuggler/explorer gear from the temple consisting of tan and dark brown wraps, tunic and half poncho. He wasn't here to draw attention to himself and he wasn't here to look for a fight.

The opposite in fact.

Right now he needed fixing - physically, not mentally. Nobody could fix that side of him. Not that he wanted it to be fixed.

Instead, the broken hand and collarbone wasn't sitting right with him, and during recent escapades and teachings, it had flared up a lot. With no patience for Silver medics patronizing him and wrapping him in a bubble of Light, he knew once acclaimed place out on Dosuun from the Rangers who pointed him there. A sprawling medical center in First Order space. Pro and con.

The journey had taken longer than expected, with a stop at Druo where he took public transport to Bespin, and then to Dusuun as a simple traveler with an interest in the First Order war-machine.

A large shuttle brought them into a city he didn't catch, but it was huge. Bigger than he had seen for a while. Full of life as far as the eye could see, and nature; greens and blues mixed with the silver and red. Watching out from the window as the ship shuddered gently in it's decent, Connor rubbed his hands together slowly, enjoying being out of his usual gear and now wanting to blend in and be left to his own devices, get himself fixed and seen to right from a human, not a med droid, and get back to action.

Time was running out for him, and time was something he didn't have much to play with right now. What could possibly go wrong here, a million miles from nowhere?

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Avalonia
Dosuun
Central Civilian Medical Center

Irajah entered the civilian medical center, briefcase in one hand, a cup of steaming caf in the other. The automatic doors slid open and shut, a cold wind propelling her an extra step before being cut off. She shivered once, tucking the briefcase under the other arm as she started to shrug out of her coat- she never stopped moving at a the brisk pace she'd been walking out in the chill, just now her intentions were different.

"Doc Ven, good morning! You're here early!"

She turned around twice, trying to find the source of the voice before offering a tight smile and a wave (remembering at the last minute that she was carrying the cup and almost spilling caf all over the place).

"Morning Kani!" She called to the duty nurse, juggling everything as she tried to pull her coat off without stopping. "Got some patients from yesterday I wanted to check up on before taking new appointments, you know how it is!"

Doctor Irajah Ven was close enough to straight line human to not cause comment or raised eyebrows in Avalonia. Not that the First Order was speciesist of course- but the majority of the population of the city was human. It made their job here easier in some ways, and Irajah didn't really consciously notice the imbalance. Short, dark, curly hair framed her pale, tired face. Beneath her coat, she was slim, petite. The pale green tunic she wore covered her completely from chin to the middle of the back of her hands. Most of her co-workers just thought she was always cold- and since she and [member="Boo Chiyo"] had moved to Dosuun at the beginning of autumn, it was a reasonable assumption. None of them knew that the conservative clothing actually covered dark, angry bruises. It was easier to explain the clothes, after all, than the marks.

A few minutes later, she closed the door to her office firmly with one hip. Shedding the coat completely, she dropped the briefcase on the desk. Slightly more careful with the caf, she sunk into the chair for a moment. Settling the cup down, elbows propped up, she dropped her face in to her hands.

She was just.... so..... tired.

Irajah couldn't remember the last time she'd had a decent night's sleep- and the last few weeks, well, they had been even worse than usual. Worse since Gap Nine. Every day she worked until she could barely stand, and then went home to Boo, her ward, and did her best to help him with homework he had no experience with and social interactions that were just as awkward. Everything went okay, as okay as these strange (not unpleasant) circumstances could be.

It wasn't until the lights went out, and she was no longer occupied with everything she filled her day with that things became too hard.

Project Gideon.

Her fingers clenched on her hair ever so slightly for a moment before she forced herself to relax. With a careful, deliberate breath, she reached over, bringing the caf to her lips and taking a sip. Slowly, deliberately, she began to sort through the file updates from her current patients. She was expected in the clinic in an hour.

Plenty of time.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

"Medical centre, please?"

Connor had asked a few people, including one grumpy sounding Bith, but most pointed him in the same direction.

Wrapping his poncho around the shoulder so his left arm was free, he rubbed the tender hand as he strolled through feeling more out of place than ever. First Order propaganda was visible in most places; on buildings, in the pockets of white armoured troopers on patrol, and in the general way this whole city felt. Ruled and ordered by military minds.

At one point Connor would have frowned upon such things, but they were getting results and getting the job done in the East of the galaxy. The city was evident of their successes and wealth, and he felt this was the right place for him to find help rather than the backwards city of Voss-ka where right now, he saw how behind the Silvers looked.

The city was getting busy, so he'd have to be careful not to do anything out of place to draw unwanted attention to himself. Connor walked for what felt like a good half an hour or so across plazas and walkways that seemed to go on forever, but with always something new and impressive to see on the horizon or lifting from a docking bay. Impressive. Most impressive.

"Excuse me," he said to a passing man, "can you direct me to the medical centre?"

With a nod, the man turned and pointed to a domed building that seemed to be one of the biggest when he saw it.

"Plok tia."

Connor looked to the man, not getting the language, but understanding the direction. He nodded in thanks and left him.

Taking the steps two at a time, the Jedi made his way up to the centre, not sure if it was a hospital, or a lab, or a drop-in centre, or simply a building filled with many industries. He'd soon find out as he made his way in.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

The CCMC, or Central Civilian Medical Center was the epicenter of medical care in Avalonia. Though the military had their own facilities, the needs of a city as large as this one were many fold, and the center covered a wide range of care needs, from emergency to long term care, from a medical school to a walk in clinic. State of the art, the facility boasted both human and droid medical staff- the backers understood the need for aspects both could bring to the table in different circumstances.

Doctor Irajah Ven split her duties largely between the emergency room and the clinic. This morning she made the rounds of a few of her patients that had come in the day before and had needed to be admitted. None were life threatening circumstance (at least, with proper treatment), and as always, Irajah was pleased with the level of care the patients here received at all times, even without her direct presence.

Heading down to the clinic, she checked in. Clad in a white lab coat over her tunic, she scanned her badge and glanced at the data screen. Both of her assignments, emergency and clinic, were mutable, changing and usually fairly fast paced. Though the clinic was more sedate, there were always so many people that needed to be seen. As the day progressed, she would have an ever updating list of numbers and charts on her screen, but that was only for the good.

"Room two is a walk in, Doctor Ven. Haven't updated the system yet. He hasn't been waiting long, want to handle that first?"

She nodded. "Do you have the patient history for me?"

The nurse shook his head, smirking widely. "Negative. Said he wanted to talk to the doctor directly, that it was private."

Irajah made a face. Usually that was code for 'there is something embarrassing stuck in my bum.' Not always, but often enough. She sighed, rearranged her expression to one of more professional friendliness and pushed the door open.

She smiled at [member="Connor Harrison"].

"Good morning! My name is Doctor Ven." She closed the door behind her. "What seems to be the trouble today?"

 

[Connor Harrison]

Walk in was best. No data on file, no questions - he could just, well, walk in. Obviously here early before the rush, Connor took his place in the small room and rested his arms on his knees, tapping his thumbs as he looked at various gumph on the wall. Charts. Posters. Comedic images. Do's and do not do's.

The door opened, and in came the doctor. Or the doctor's aide who wanted to waste more time before the real doctor gave up their time. Doctor Ven. Nope, she was THE doctor alright.

"Good morning," he sat upright, letting her come in and settle herself, before stifling a yawn. "I know this is a walk-in, so I won't keep you but I'd really appreciate if you could do something for this."

He held out his left hand - crimson lines ran down his fingers, curving around into his palm. The signs of reconstructive surgery.

"It's not healing right for some reason and in my line of work, it's getting to be more of a hindrance. I heard this place was the best, right?"

Connor looked at the good doctor.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah perched on a stool and wheeled it over with her feet. Reaching out, she very gently took hold of his hand with her own. With a small frown, she turned his palm over, hazel eyes looking at the lines critically.

She glanced up at him.

"First off, this isn't exactly like a sniffle or a sprain where I'm going to give you a glance and a 'script. So please, don't be concerned about how much time this takes, it's what we're here for."

Gaze casting down again, she indicated his hand.

"Second, how long ago was this done? And can you tell me what happened? Reconstructive surgery often takes some time to heal properly, depending on how severe the original damage was, but there are things that we can do to speed it along. If it doesn't seem to be within the normal healing times, we'll run a scan and see what we can see, yes?"

As she turned his hand over again, her own sleeve slipped slightly. With a casual action, she reached out, tugging it down again over the dark, angry bruises. Most people would never even notice, at least, in her experience.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

A second was all it took. Already looking at his own hand, when the good doctor adjusted her sleeve, Connor caught her movement and saw the nasty edge of a bruise. The colouring was stark contrast to her skin.

Flexing his hand, Connor nodded.

"I’m in no rush. Well, it was my own fault really. Working on my craft and the…darned closer ramp came up and crushed my hand. Had it looked at and fixed up but don’t think it was done pretty well."

He rolled his eyes, omitting the fact it happened in a brutal confrontation with a Mandalorian that resulted in numerous broken bones and a rushed fixer job in the Silver Jedi med-bay that hadn’t been given chance to heal at all.

"Oh, and, this..." he turned his head and pulled down the thin layers around his neck to the slightly swollen collarbone. "Caught me there too when I tried to get my hand free."

She’d probably heard many stories to cover incidents, and he knew this would probably be one story too far. But what would she do. She was paid to do her job and ask little questions.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

One eyebrow raised ever so slightly as he told his first excuse. She was pretty good at sniffing out the fake 'how did this happen?' stories. The second eyebrow joined the first when he added his collarbone in to the mix.

Gesturing at his collar bone with a 'may I?' sort of hand movement, she only leaned in when he nodded. Just as gently as before, she carefully moved the collar of his shirt out of the way. Fingers danced lightly across his collar bone and she muttered, as much to herself as to him- "Looks like it might be broken."

She *might* have believed a speeder accident. Might. Maybe. But he would have to be the most ill fated, or otherwise oblivious mechanic in the galaxy to end up in that situation. And something told her that this was not a man to carelessly put himself in to that kind of situation. She wasn't sure how she knew- call it a hunch. Someone else might have said the Force. It didn't really matter.

"Huh. Okay," she commented. It was obvious that she didn't believe him, but she also didn't specifically call him out on it either. As long as she could get a good scan of both areas, it didn't really matter what had caused it.

Sort of. Technically.

It didn't matter as far as treatment went, anyway.

"Let's get a scan of both injuries- unless there is anything else?" She waited patiently, both eyebrows still up. The scans would tell her much more than his words were.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Scratching his temple, Connor sighed.

"Fair enough, as long as you can fix it."

About to stand, he stopped and leaned forward, a curious look in his eye. And for a moment he was ready to bypass her thoughts with the Force, pull a few little manipulations and get this done the quick way. But that was the problem first of all; a quick fix did little.

"I take it patient confidentiality stands here in First Order territory, right, Doctor?" He stood. "Do I do it here, or...?"

He pulled the poncho up and over his head and held his hands on the lip of his ivory shirt.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah gave him a look of genuine surprise.

"Of course patient confidentiality is protected here," she said, the expression on her face actually bewildered.

She turned away when he started to disrobe, nodding at him over her shoulder.

"Yes, here is fine. I have a portable scanner. If there's anything too deeply damaged, we may want better equipment, but I suspect this will be sufficient for what we are looking at here. Just your shirt is fine."

Sliding off of the stool, she dropped to one knee, fishing around in one of the cabinets. It was one of the draw backs to not having her own dedicated exam room- people never put things back in the exact same place, despite there being labeled homes for every piece of equipment.

It took her a sigh and an extra moment or two to stand again, but she wiped the discomfort from her face with a professional smile she used as her mask when on duty. It came almost effortlessly.

"It'll be easiest if you lay back. I'll scan your collarbone first, then the hand. It will only take a few moments to render a visual, and then we'll have a deeper look, yes?"

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Peeling off the layers on top, he watched the doctor as she was turned and hooked the lightsaber up off the three belts and wrapped it in his clothing tight in a tight cylindrical shape. Placing the clothing on the floor and tossing the poncho down to cover them, he flexed his hand, waiting for her reaction seeing the mess he really was in.

Shivering a bit at the sensation of being topless, he slid onto the lounger, tapping his hands on his chest as he waited and listened to her talk and suit up.

His left side of the torso dotted with indented scars and dents from being embedded with stones.

Right wrist lacerated with bumpy scar tissue from his days as a Padawan on the mountains of Rhen Var.

Broken collar bone.

Reconstructed hand.

Nasty mark under his eye.

And if he turned over? Blanket burns over his back from Force Lightning.

"Pease be gentle.

He was looking forward to her reaction – safe to say the flimsy excuse wouldn’t cut it now.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

The 'please be gentle' seemed like a really weird thing to say.

"I'll be very careful," she assured him as she turned.

There was a pause however after that. She didn't even try to hide the appraising sweep of her gaze, though it was initially unintentional. But each new mark pulled her attention from the previous one until hazel eyes found his face again. The expression on her face was impassive, but she could hide the surprise in her eyes even if she had tried.

"Apparently, mechanics is a very dangerous line of work," she finally said, her tone dry and even. Completely deadpan. "As a doctor, I'm going to advise you to seriously consider a career change. Unless, of course, it's a hobby. In which case I can recommend a host of safe ones."

She paused for a moment and stepped back to him. Raising the scanner to his collar bone, she rested the tips of her fingers ever so lightly against the flesh beside the obvious swelling.

"Base jumping, for example," she didn't look at his face, focused instead on the equipment in her other hand. "Or maybe rancor wrestling."

Despite the utter deadpan delivery, it wasn't as though either of them was fooled. She'd only seen injuries like this on certain kinds of patients.

"Unless lightsaber dueling is more your style, of course. In which case, I'll do my best, but I also might suggest a mental health professional."

​Was..... was she sassing him?

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor kept his head back and didn't move, angled away slightly so Ven could get to work with her analysis and dry humour which he found amusing.

"I've taken down a krayt dragon before if that's good enough. Wrestled a few other beasts in my time too."

He kept looking up, body tensing ever so with each little touch of her fingers on his body. There was a little silence for a moment as she did her work.

"You're right about the mental health. Being a Jedi can take a serious strain on your well-being and it certainly isn't good for you."

His eyes flicked down to her, close up inspecting his skin and he looked over her, taking in as much detail of her as possible.

"You get into a few scrapes yourself? Look a bit battered if I may say so."

One thing to be given a little sass, another to give it and see what he could piece together.

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Jedi. She hadn't been completely sure of her assessment, and she had no idea what flavor of force user he was either. She'd met several, and the only thing any of them seemed to have in common was that they all considered themselves in some way superior to the folks who didn't have their so precious powers. Sith, Jedi, it didn't really matter- they all liked to take control of a situation because maw forbid one of their lessers make their own decisions.

Some of them were decent enough. But, honestly, she wasn't overly impressed by the difference between the different schools of thought. From where she sat, they just said different things to excuse the same actions.

Jedi though. Hmmm.

She'd moved down to scanning his injured hand by the time he turned his comment on her.

Irajah actually froze for a heartbeat after he did. Her eyes darted to her sleeves, both covering her bruises. Then, with a casualness she didn't actually feel, she reached up with one hand, adjusting the high neck of her tunic in case that had been the culprit.

Her focus was too intent on the scanner- far more so than it had before he'd said anything. She didn't look up at him, as she replied.

"Me? Oh. I'm a bit of a klutz. I'd walk out into traffic if there weren't blaring warnings about it. It's why base jumping and rancor wrestling aren't really for me."

She thought she did just fine. But she wasn't fooling anyone with the lie.

The scanner beeped and she stepped back, turning her back to him as the small machine whirred softly. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes for a moment and rearranging the expression on her face back to professional neutral.

"We'll have the results in just a minute," she said over her shoulder.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Sitting up after the initial check, Connor turned to wrap himself back in the two layers and slid on the half-poncho, tucking it into his neckline and making his arm free. The hilt of the lightsaber was fixed tight under them.

"Looks a bit more than just being clumsy if you ask me."

He straightened himself and turned on the recliner, seeing her back to him. Tapping a foot on the floor gently, and tapping thumbs together at the same time, he waited and looked around the room at the generic posters up and the flashing read-outs and feeds from, what looked like, local news and surgery appointments.

”So what are the First Order like then? I hear this is their spot. Or can you not talk about that."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

"I manage feats of clumsy that have hitherto gone unobserved by science," she replied absently.

In truth, while she was a little scatterbrained and awkward when not on the job, she was no more clumsy than the average person. Which every single action she'd taken since entering this room would attest to. But that was her current story, with this very nosey stranger, and she was sticking to it for now.

She heard the sounds of him pulling his shirt back on, and waited to turn back around until he was clearly settled again. As the machine whirred softly on the counter, she cocked her head to one side. Resting her hip against the cabinet, she studied him unabashedly for a moment.

"I'm not entirely certain where the First Order has gotten the reputation I keep hearing about," she said, crossing her arms casually over her chest. "But they do a better job of taking care of their citizens than many other places around the galaxy I've seen. The schools are phenomenal, which is why we moved here. The medical care is top notch," she paused, actually smirking for a moment before the expression returned to a smile, "and I'm not just saying that because they had the good sense to hire me. They don't drag their civilians in to military conflicts. The streets are clean, orphans are cared for, the hungry are fed...."

She paused, shrugging.

"Sure there are problems, because you can't have a world without them. Sentients are sentient, and there's crime and injustice because hey, we keep doing that to each other. But, they do pretty okay, all things considered."

In truth, Dosuun was the first time Irajah had felt even a modicum of safety since the day she'd woken up, almost a year ago now, surrounded by the dead. If she'd been smart, she would have taken that and held it close, never again venturing farther from Avalonia than the next city over.

But she wasn't. And events kept rearing their heads, again and again, digging deeper and deeper into the lies and darkness that were covered by the veneer of a normal childhood.

Gideon.

The sound of the scanner beeping could account for the slightly pained look that flitted across her face for a heartbeat. Hazel eyes turned away from him as she picked up the device again. She refocused on the task at hand- her work one of the only things that kept the echoing of doubt at bay.

"It comes as no surprise that you collar bone and right leg were broken and didn't heal properly," she said without preamble. She pushed a button, bringing up a small, holographic 3-D image of the bones in question. "Both are continuing the cause inflammation and irritation to the surrounding tissue- and will continue to do so until properly set and healed. See here? The bone actually overlapped very slightly at the break point while it was healing. If it stays like this, the difference in length between your legs- yes, I know it's not much, but it's enough- will cause stress on your hip, leading to further complications."

She swiped through until she reached the image of his hand.

"Your hand is in slightly better shape. The reconstruction was..... clearly rushed," she said, as politely as she could professionally could manage. "And the requisite healing time after the fact was not observed. But, again, I suspect this comes as no surprise," she continued, her tone dry.

"Your other scars....." She paused, looking up at [member="Connor Harrison"]. "The scars on your back and torso are relatively superficial. Long periods of inactivity may lead to stiffness, but as long as you keep active- and no, that's not an excuse to not rest your other injuries, but we can talk about details in a moment- they should not pose a long term problem. However, if the cosmetics bother you, I can recommend someone who can help you in that regard." It was obvious that the last part was a standard offer, but not one she actually expected him to take.

"And then your eye......" Irajah actually frowned here. "I've never seen anything quiet like this, but there's actual damage to the duct. I would need a more in depth scan of the area if you wished to address that, but I don't consider it an immediate concern unless it is causing you discomfort."

 

[Connor Harrison]

While Connor had little one-to-one interaction with the First Order, he certainly knew of them and their reach. A mighty fighting force, much like the Imperial war machine, that ruled with an iron first yet had everything he craved; order, justice and strength. It was clear on the way in that he knew so little about the wider galaxy from his hovel on Voss, a backwards world that was surrounded by people wanting to stay in their bubble and not look out of it.

It was getting to be claustrophobic. He wanted more.

Flexing his hand a little with Doctor Ven’s analysis, he found that he was in worse shape than he thought, and he couldn’t afford to be.

”Do what you can, today." He remained sat, and gently touched her mind with the swaying of his Force aura. ”You’re the best person to take care of me right now, Doctor."

He looked at her, still flexing, before then dropping his head to look at his hand. It was painful when he thought about it. Leftovers from a vicious fight that had erupted from wounded pride and a desire to fend off his ego being hurt.

”Leave the tissue damage. That’s not important. The bone damage, I’ll take what you can. I need to be fixed, it’s as simple as that." Leaning back, he pulled the poncho up and a layer to reveal the partial gleam of the lightsaber hilt at his side, and he wanted to clock her expression. ”Me being here isn’t going to be a problem, is it Doctor? I don’t want you at risk because you’re harbouring a Jedi Master, after all."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

It wasn't clear if she would have acted the same way without the nudge of the Force or not, as she was already inclined to help him. But perhaps it cemented the idea a little more strongly than it had been before- not in the fashion of a doctor helping a patient. But her specifically helping him.

"Well," she said, giving him a bit of a sour look. "It would be easier if you didn't flash that thing around. Plausible deniability and all that."

She perched on the stool again, rubbing her hand over her face, feeling deeply weary again.

"Jedi aren't lauded as heroes on Dosuun. But as long as you keep your dogma to yourself, no one has to know what you are. If you can do that, then neither of us will have problems with your being treated here. But if you start flashing around that saber, or reciting the Jedi chant, or whatever it is you people do, then I can't promise you aren't going to wake up with troopers at your door, escorting you to the first ship out system, you know?"

Leaning back slightly, she studied his face. But what she was searching for wasn't clear.

There was something she wanted to ask him. But it had nothing to do with his treatment here at the Center. For now, she'd wait until that had been squared away. There would be time to ask him soon enough.

"If you think you can handle that, then we can get started. We'll admit you and I'll arrange for the surgeries you need. You'll need to stay here for two days, three days tops, but we'll will schedule you for physical therapy after that. Even if you don't stay *here* for it, I strongly recommend that you follow the instructions for it, either with another center or at the very least on your own. No matter how good we are here, you understand that you'll be right in the same boat if you don't get the rest and correct type of activity you need to heal properly."

​She paused, then seemed to come to a decision. She held out her hand to him, palm up.

​"Your saber is a liability here. If you think you can trust me, I'll keep it safe for you. But there's no where in the hospital that someone might not find it."

​[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor looked at her open palm, and then her face. He hadn’t come looking for trouble, and he didn’t really want to make enemies right now. With a soft nod, he twisted and pulled the hilt up and of his belt clasp and handed it over, the weight making her hand sag a little.

”Don’t take your hand off with that."

Feeling almost naked without it, and surprised how willingly he had handed his weapon over to an unknown who said she was a doctor, Connor knew this was the best way. He sat up, flexing his hand gently and running the course of options in his head. He didn’t have many.

Letting out a long exhale through his nose, he placed his hands on his knees. Looking around again at the top-notch room, he was genuinely impressed with the whole set up.

”And don’t worry about me. Safe to say I’m not here to preach, and waving the Jedi flag is the last thing I’m out to do right now. There will be no trouble, doctor. Doctor. Do you have a first name or is it just totally professional as Doctor Ven?"

He extended his hand to lay this woman’s nervous aura at ease.

”Connor Harrison."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

It was heavier than she'd expected it to be. She weighed it for a moment before reaching behind her. She hooked it to her belt at the small of her back, letting her labcoat hide it. She'd get it to her personal office later- it was the only place safe from casual poking around.

"I have no intentions of turning it on, I assure you."

Leaning forward, she greeted his hand with her own.

"Irajah," she said with a smile, which widened in to a slight smirk when she continued. "And that's good to hear. Because dogma doesn't wash out of carpets easily. It'd be a shame."

She stood up, drawing a small screen out of the counter and typing in a few commands.

"We can get you in to surgery this afternoon," she confirmed. "I'll get you settled in to a room, unless you have any business you need to conclude before hand?"

​[member="Connor Harrison"]