Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - We have, uh... urgent paperwork to attend to, don't we?
Carter Schimpff
(( Market District, City One – Rylor ))
Dr. Acula: Quite all right. ::inclining his head:: I was merely noting… ::a subtle gesture toward Morgan:: …your colleague’s intoxicating cologne.
Morgan: So nice of you to notice, Dr. Acula...
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: Phlebotomy? A crude, but critical practice in medicinal development...
Morgan moved away from the counter, his attention shifting toward the surrounding cabinets. The motion created space.
Dr. Acula allowed it, his eyes tracking Morgan’s every move – not with the eager attentiveness of a merchant tracking a customer, but with something quieter and more patient. His posture remained composed beside the counter, hands loosely clasped behind his back, as though whatever interest he held required no pursuit.
Roy, meanwhile, tracked both men with the growing awareness of someone who had lost control of a situation in increments small enough to be missed but large enough – now – to be irreversible.
Bancroft: ::lightly, attempting recovery:: It’s a lovely shop, Dr. Acula. A… monument to medicine’s more enthusiastic early years. I imagine we’ve already stolen quite enough of your afternoon–
Dr. Acula’s smile deepened by only the smallest degree.
Dr. Acula: On the contrary, Doctor Bancroft. ::his gaze remaining on Morgan rather than Roy:: One cannot properly appreciate modern medicine without first understanding how intimate it once was.
A small gesture toward the surrounding cabinets.
Dr. Acula: Before scanners, before automation, before one could diagnose a patient from across the room, there was touch. Observation. Judgment. A steadier hand. A sharper… eye.
Morgan’s attention passed over rows of antique instruments – tourniquets, early vacutainers, hand-ground needles of varying gauges. Tools that had once been indispensable. Tools that now existed somewhere between relic and warning.
Morgan’s movement through the cabinets continued. A needle – fine, antique, elegantly machined – was lifted, inspected, turned beneath the amber light.
Morgan: Oh, how far we've come... ::putting the needle down, moving on to other equipment:: Why the particular interest in phlebotomy, Dr. Acula?
Dr. Acula: I find blood to be the most honest medium in all of medicine. It does not flatter. It does not conceal. There’s a beautiful purity to it. It tells you, immediately and without sentiment, what a body needs… and what it can no longer survive without.
Bancroft: ::dryly:: There’s a certain purity to tetanus as well, but modern medicine has shown an almost embarrassing lack of nostalgia for it.
Acula’s smile returned, unbothered and patient.
Dr. Acula: And yet… ::his gaze settling, briefly, on Morgan:: …your colleague appears to understand that age and obsolescence are very different things.
Morgan: Dr. Acula, if you keep talking like that, I'm going to insist that you buy me dinner.
Roy stared, briefly and with mounting disbelief, at a completely innocent section of countertop.
Is he flirting with the vampire?!
Acula’s smile widened – not dramatically, but enough that the dim amber light caught, briefly, along the length of those slightly-too-prominent canines.
Dr. Acula: I am quite hungry, now you mention it.
A soft, almost gracious incline of his head. Then, casually, as though extending nothing more significant than a courtesy, he continued:
Dr. Acula: I keep the more refined selections in the back. ::a small gesture toward the shadowed doorway:: The pieces I reserve for those with a more serious interest.
Roy felt his stomach drop. He stepped slightly into Morgan’s line of sight – or tried to. Morgan had an infuriating ability to be looking everywhere except where he needed to be.
Roy tried again, giving a very small, very deliberate shake of his head.
No. Absolutely not.
Roy maintained the sort of smile typically seen on men about to be interviewed by internal affairs.
Bancroft: ::lightly:: Oh, I’m not certain we need to impose on your hospitality, Dr. Acula.
Dr. Acula appeared to register Roy’s objection in the same spirit one might register a mild breeze.
Morgan: Response
Roy’s jaw tightened, his eyes widening slightly at Morgan.
Bancroft: Sir, I believe there are some pressing matters back on the Artemis requiring the attention of the Chief Medical–
Morgan: Response
Roy resisted the urge to close his eyes and simply let whatever happened next become someone else’s paperwork.
Bancroft: Yes, sir. Acting, interim, temporary, ceremonial – whatever title we’re workshopping – with respect, I really must advise against this–
Morgan: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1