Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Intoxicating
Carter Schimpff
(( Market District, City One – Rylor ))
Morgan: Ugh.
Roy tipped his head and smiled broadly.
Bancroft: Ever a pleasure, sir. ::beat, airily:: Should I be concerned, or are you just workshopping some new greetings?
Morgan shook his head.
Morgan: Oh, I just wasn't expecting to run into any familiar faces... But I should have known better, given the goods in this shop.
Roy gave a half-shrug.
Bancroft: I had a plan, you understand. Fresh air. Leisure. Possibly even joy. ::gesturing faintly:: Then I saw a shop full of questionable medical equipment and made a series of poor but… ::sighing:: ultimately inevitable decisions.
Morgan’s attention drifted across the shop in the way of a man conducting a rapid, involuntary audit – eyes skimming shelves, pausing just long enough on a cluster of antique instruments to register their age, their condition, and their deeply questionable relevance to modern medicine.
Behind the counter, Dr. Acula observed this quiet inspection with polite stillness, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. There was something attentive in it – not the eagerness of a merchant, nor even the pride of a collector, but a more particular kind of interest. As though he were less concerned with what Morgan thought of the instruments… and more with what the instruments might think of Morgan.
Roy, for his part, watched the exchange unfold with the faint, dawning awareness of a man who had just realized he had accidentally wandered into a situation that would, at minimum, require explanation in a report he had not yet decided how to write.
Morgan: ::flatly, slightly disappointed:: Interesting shop you stumbled on here, Mr. Bancroft... ::pointing to the man behind the counter:: Who's your friend here?
Roy’s immediate instinct was to establish, clearly and on the record, that this man was not his friend.
Unfortunately, such honesty tended to be frowned upon in polite society.
Bancroft: Ah. Dr. Acula and I are… newly acquainted. ::gesturing between the two:: Dr. Acula, please meet Dr. Kyle Morgan, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Artemis-A.
Dr. Acula accepted the introduction with a slight incline of his head. When he took Morgan’s hand, his thumb rested briefly, almost thoughtfully, against the inside of Morgan’s wrist, as though feeling for a pulse.
Dr. Acula: A pleasure. ::smiling:: You have a remarkably efficient circulatory profile, Doctor Morgan.
Morgan: Response
Dr. Acula did not immediately release Morgan’s hand. His gaze drifted – not rudely, not even obviously, but with a kind of quiet, clinical curiosity – toward the line of Morgan’s throat. Just for a moment. Just long enough to suggest that the motion must have been intentional.
As the old man leaned a fraction closer towards the CMO, his head tilted toward the side, his voice lowering ever so slightly.
Dr. Acula: ::hungrily:: Remarkable…
Roy’s physician brain, which had thus far been operating under a policy of cautious professional curiosity, conducted a rapid and unanimous review of available data: Pale complexion. Photosensitivity. Obsessive interest in blood. Antique phlebotomy equipment. Unsolicited proximity to a colleague’s carotid artery.
Roy moved.
Not abruptly. Not dramatically. But with the sort of decisive timing that suggested a man who had just watched a situation cross from “theoretical concern” into “immediate intervention.”
His elbow caught the edge of a nearby display, sending a small cluster of glass vials into a soft but unmistakable cascade across the counter and floor. The sound was delicate, but it was enough.
Bancroft: My apologies– ::already crouching, gathering the fallen vials:: –these older storage systems can be a bit… temperamental.
The moment broke.
When Roy glanced up, Dr. Acula had already straightened, Morgan’s hand released, his posture once again composed into something entirely appropriate for polite society. If anything, the old man looked faintly amused.
Dr. Acula: Quite all right. ::inclining his head:: I was merely noting… ::a subtle gesture toward Morgan:: …your colleague’s intoxicating cologne.
Morgan: Response
Roy’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, darting twice between Morgan and Acula.
Bancroft: ::flatly:: Uh huh. ::looking significantly at Morgan:: Dr. Acula was just telling me about his work in… highly specialized phlebotomy, sir. ::eyes boring into Morgan’s:: Exclusively in phlebotomy.
Morgan: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1