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| Scene Title | Trust Me I'm A Doctor |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sorry, Dr. Pepper, but Elle doesn't. |
| Date | June 9, 2009 |
Scraped Knees Clinic - Examination Room
It's Monday night. Well, more like Tuesday morning, around 2 am. It's not exactly visiting hours at Skinned Knees, but it appears that this is a little more complex than his usual sort of visitation. Helena, Elle, and Trask arrived quietly, and with the oddest accompanying props: a rubber mat, a pair of thick rubber mits, and pairs of rubber boots for not just the three of them, but for Chuck as well. "Elle," Helena gestures, "This is Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper, your patient." She gives Elle a briefly amused look, yeah, she knows, don't laugh.
Chuck looking up from his paperwork that he had piled up on the counter of the little room, "Oh why hello, you must be my 2 am appointment." Setting the paperwork down on the counter and then taking a few steps forward. "Dr. Pepper at your service." Offering a warm smile, "So what seems to be the trouble. Believe it or not I can actually see. Abby helped heal me, but mentally, my brain wasn't ready so as a far warning I tend to go blind when I get nervous." Looking at the interesting array of props and equipment. "Huh, some outfit you all traipsed in here with." Patting the examination table as to signify the patient to have a seat on it.
"Huh. You're kiiidding me." Okay then. If Elle weren't a little bleary-eyed at the moment, she probably would laugh, and she does exchange a glance with Helena. As it is, the look she casts around the clinic contains a good amount of criticism. Most of her grogginess from being aroused at this godforsaken hour is now gone, replaced by sharpness, and though she's actually set on being moderately cooperative— for once— the stare she gives the doctor is severely skeptical.
"…So, this is the healer you've set up, Helena. Don't ask questions," she shoots at Chuck a moment later. Nonetheless, she does move over to the examination table and seats herself on the edge of it, arms crossed. She's grumpyface, for more than one reason. The outfit is one.
"I suggest you put on the boots, Dr. Pepper. You know what the problem is, since I already filled you in. This man here is on standby in the event that your patient has a negative reaction to your efforts that might endanger you." Helena gestures to Trask, who stays out of nullification range for the moment. "Whenever you two are ready, you can proceed."
Chuck nodding at Helena, "Err, well I suppose the rubber mat that the table is on should work just fine." Then moving to the woman's side that was seated on the table. "Okay, well you know my name, so what is your miss? So you know I am going to have to touch you. Do not be afraid, but is it alright that I place my hands on the area that you are needed assistance on?" Making sure he was on the rubber mat and touching no metal. "So whenever you are ready please remove your .. err.. gloves."
Elle, at the moment, isn't really inclined to be polite enough to not appear incredulous. Her eyes are narrowed, but there's something to suggest that they could be narrower yet. "I'm Elle. You're not going to be holding my hand, so no, I'm not taking these off. Obviously you don't pay attention." Or else Helena hadn't filled him in on the minor but slightly important detail that Chuck might go BZZZZZZT, should Elle go out of control— or simply choose. She does briefly lift an eyebrow at the other blonde, before sighing and gazing at Chuck head-on again. "Were you told what to do, or do I need to tell you?"
Actually, Helena did warn him that Elle was electrokinetic and that this attempt at restoring her memories might spark off - literally - some traumatic reaction. She gives Elle a shockingly apologetic look before indicating, "I'd suggest you take on one of those pairs of boots yourself, Doc, else you'll have nothing else to ground you out if she sparks.
Chuck nodding and accepting the boots, "As soon as I tap into her genetic code I will just turn off her electrokinetic ability. Then all should be safe." Leaning down as he slides the rubber boots on. "But maybe I won't even have to bother with it. I am feeling pretty awake this shouldn't take to long to be honest to get her back to whatever we need to do." Now standing up and looking at Helena, "What is it again we are needing to do this woman? Regrow some brain tissue?" Looking over at the woman, "Umm well I will need to make skin to skin contact with you, so you let me know where I can touch your skin that you would be most comfortable with."
…Wait now. Elle had just been told about healing— and that's it. "Excuse me?" After an extra second of staring in which her eyes go momentarily wide, she slips herself off the edge of the table. "You're supposed to heal me. Fucking around with my genetic code was not in the contract." Is somebody insane? Helena? Chuck? "You're supposed to be restoring a memory, which would probably indicate that my head is a good spot to put your hands."
Helena chimes up in agreement, "Messing in her genetic code was absolutely -not- in the agreement, doctor. We've told you three times what we need, so I'm not entirely sure why you need us to tell you again. I trust my source when they say you've got the ability that's needed, but I think you need to put on a bit more show that you know what you're doing." Even Helena's a little uncertain now. She wants this done on Elle's behalf, but not if the other blonde feels uncomfortable.
Chuck letting out a sigh, "It was a joke, I wouldn't dare dream of playing with your genetic code, look it will just take me hm about 10 minutes of my placing my hands on your head to regrow new tissue and I cannot promise any memories but I can replace damaged tissue. All, that was ment by the genetic turning on and off was I really didn't need the boots, I had that covered but I took the boots anyways. So, if you want that tissue repaired then I am here to do just that. Nothing more and nothing less." Not moving his hands towards the woman until he was clear that it was okay to touch her
Well, Elle isn't even standing in the proximity of Chuck's possible touch any more. Arms folded across her chest, her head tilts to one side, speculative and guarded. It's not a kind expression. "I'm not sure you know what you're dealing with," she says more quietly, contemptuously. With Trask out of her range, she's free to deliberately create a small globe of bright, silently buzzing electricity that hovers just above her palm — and just as suddenly goes out, when she snaps her fingers shut again. "You needed the boots because you could end up as a huge, black, fried stain on the floor. Boots might not be enough."
There's warning in her voice, not because she's specifically threatening to do it herself— but because the threat is there. And Chuck hadn't comprehended it.
"Then you have a really messed up sense of decorum, doc." Helena tells him. "He's got 'em on, Elle. It's up to you if you want to let him do his voodoo that I hope he does well."
Chuck looking down at his feet, "I have the boots on, sorry it's 2 am and I am normally in bed at this hour. I apologize if my bed side manners are not with me. Look I won't even go home, I can regrew your brain tissue in 5 minutes, I will just put extra effort into, just lock the door behind the door when you leave the clinic because I will be to exhausted to do it. I am just trying to be nice here so help you two get in and get out, 5 minutes in my best offer, that is if you even want me to regrew your brain tissue." Letting out another heavy sigh.
Elle spends the next moment in an inhalation, looking the doctor over thoroughly. And then: "No." It's curt, dismissive. There's plenty of disdain in her voice. "Doc, don't preach speed to me, please. If anyone's going to be fishing around in my brain, I want it done right. Not— fast." With a headshake, she glances over at Helena, lips thin. "Lock me up for another week, I don't care. But I'm not having some dunce in my head if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing."
Helena shakes her head. "She's made up her mind, Doc." She shakes her head. "Take the mitts off Elle, if he's not going to work on you, you don't need them. Trask!" The shadowy man moves into range and Helena turns to look at Chuck. "All I can say is, sorry to waste your time, Doc. Good luck with your practice."
