Private - Doctor's Visit

It was a bit chilly out in the city, but it wasn't so chilly that the doctor was bothering with heavy winter attire quite yet- even if it was clearly coming close to the end of the year and the start of winter. He'd left his office for a short moment during the day to get some coffee into his system, needing it to deal with just how many patients he had that day.

It wasn't that cold, but it was cold enough where idiots kept falling on their stairs from not looking where they went, or getting influenza from not listening to the news and getting their shots.

He walked out of the office into the waiting room with a patient still nagging on and on about his life choices. "You're not going to recover if you don't get some bloody rest. Enough yammering, go to the pharmacy like I told you to. A doctor's orders are absolute, you gormless codger."

Langdon B. Harding was nothing if true to his surname. It was fairly well known among his patients that, despite being good at what he did, you really wouldn't want to deal with him long term- especially if you were a man, such as the fellow that was finally wriggling his way into his coat from the coat rack, leaving to fill the prescription already folded and shoved into his winter jacket's pocket.

"Okay... Next patient." He moved to check the paperwork on who was next on the agenda. There were a fair number of people waiting, but his eyes seemed to catch a glimpse of one familiar figure in particular. It was far too coincidental that not long after he gave his office details to someone on a hidden bulletin board system claiming 'not to be a reporter', the anchor of an underground network he watched for the sake of ogling her happened to be in his waiting room.

He had no doubt in his mind. That woman was on the Zero Channel when he gave the details. That woman was 'not a reporter'.

A soft sigh left him as he glanced over at her. Technically, he was supposed to take a different person first from the list- but honestly, he knew that particular patient well, and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with them yet (since really, all they did was come to him as if he was some bloody therapist). With swift movements and an intent smile, he put his hand on the familiar figure he'd never been within yards of, much less inches.

"You're up next, little lady. I must say, you're looking lovely today..." He tried not to scoff at his own words. "Lovely but not lively. Let's see if the fever I'm feeling emanating off you is the cause for your lack of pep, hrm? Come with me. Chop chop."

 

He hadn't actually chosen her for her looks. He watched that program for her beauty, surely, but her gormless yet bright nature was fairly warming for his otherwise dark soul as well. Langdon was, above all else, a brutal hedonist. For him, this was going to be a fun endeavor...

Even if lately, having to touch his patients has been a bit of a pain.

He began to jot down notes when they were in the exam room, closing the door with his foot to make sure privacy wouldn't be an issue. It was standard practice, he'd tell anyone- but in reality, this particular time, it wasn't just that. There was much on his mind, and this woman wasn't helping it.

"Not a reporter my ass. I figured you'd been lying about that with such a bloody obvious name, though. I didn't expect a familiar face, but at the same time, I have to admit... I'm pleased with results. I had a feeling on your last broadcast you weren't well."

Moving to the work station where the usual bottles of tongue depressants and cotton swabs sat, he moved to take a pair of latex-free medical gloves out of a box and put them on his hands with swift movements. Even with only one hand at a time to write, he found it easy to keep jotting down the things she told him were 'wrong'.

"I see. Chills make sense if you have a fever like I suspect. I've seen your 'spacing out' as you call it. It did seem like disorientation. But... I'm curious, how in bloody hell do you call this weather 'hot'?"

Sighing, he moved to get out a thermometer. It was the kind that didn't require going in the mouth or even touching, thankfully. "Sit still. I'm going to take your temperature." He pressed the button on what looked like a gun more than a thermometer- but it merely emitted light to sense temperature, and it glowed red when it beeped.

"Like I suspected. Your temperature is just under 38 centigrade. You're just shy of the kind of fever most worry about." He turned the thermometer around to show his patient the situation. The red screen showed two numbers: 100.2 and 37.9, which he made disappear with another button soon after. Putting the 'gun' away, he moved to get another tool or two, preparing to do more work.

He picked the otoscope and changed the tip, turning to her with a dim glance. "Tell me, Miss Mars. Are you feeling any dizziness when you go into those 'spaced out' moments, or in general? Any light-headedness, headache... You know the drill, if you've been to a doctor even once before." His last name suited him, many would agree. He was surely a hard ass, even as he approached and awkwardly shivered when he moved her hair behind her ear to get close enough to take a peek.

"Hrm... You're good about grooming, I see. I don't see anything to worry about in here... Any congestion I should know about? Any little detail, tell me. I'll write it down to figure out just what's got you going off. So far, it looks bacterial or viral. I need to keep an eye for anything you might have noticed to know exactly what you might need to heal."

 

He could sense her discomfort, but it probably barely mirrored the amount he felt himself at that point. His medical gloves were a godsend at this moment, but even with them, he could feel the warmth that emanated from her if he got too close- and that warmth was close enough to touch. It was close enough to give him that writhing agony inside, the fear that made his guts struggle for peace.

Bloody hell, I need to figure out how to get rid of this affliction.

"There's nothing wrong with it to me. There are doctors who don't trust medicine despite being in the field, so why can't there be someone who works in a realm where suspicion is vital that isn't completely suspicious? The idea that our professions define what we're allowed to believe barmy made up by people who've lost the plot."

A slight grin caught his lips as he noticed her start to stare- and, for a moment in time, he merely let her, watching carefully as she did so, studying her pupils during it and perhaps her breathing as well. He wouldn't complain if a lovely lady wanted to have a butcher.

She then mentioned something else that caught his attention even more than her beauty and stare. He was going to need to lift her shirt just enough to make sure he could use his stethoscope properly anyway, so the location didn't bother him in the least.

Okay, it did a little. "Did you notice the bruise before or after you began to feel lurgy?" He felt that more information was in order- and he wrote the basics down again, before getting his stethoscope and preparing to put the plugs in his ears. "Shall I peek at it first, or shall we check your other vitals? I have to check your blood pressure and pulse. You know, regulations and all that. I may rebel against certain codes of the DVRS playing an underground game, but I do have a Hippocratic Oath and guidelines to abide to keep my job."

His eyes moved for a moment to his patient's dainty wrists. He wanted to blush for crying out loud- the girl may have been a daft cow in his mind, but she was a looker, and so far, she didn't seem quite as gormless as he'd originally believed.

"If we're starting with your pressure, I'll need you to just roll up your sleeve. Or we can just get the top off and over with, since it'll be in the way for checking the bruise and your listening in below."

 

As the woman tried to remember the bruise's cause, her assumption as to what it might be did make some sense. If someone was will and having moments of disorientation of any sort, it was likely they were a danger to themselves in a place like a gym- a place where there was lots of machinery to bounce off of, lots of motions that could harm you if you weren't being careful.

He was quiet as he took her blood pressure- something about physical touch had him unnerved, though it wasn't so bad with his gloves on. He wrapped an old-school blood pressure cuff on her arm and took the stethoscope to his ears, putting the cold metal that would listen to her blood pumping just under the blue material that he'd wrapped around her.

Air filled the cuff, squeezing around the arm. He could hear her blood flowing, and as he finished his readings of it under the pressure he put on it, he let the air back out and sighed, returning the cuff for the test to its proper place and writing down the numbers he got for results.

"Your blood pressure is normal. As for your apology, it's pointless to worry about. No one likes feeling out of sorts and most people also don't like going to the doctor in general. It would be stranger if you didn't lash out a bit. Besides, seeing some sass is a nice change as someone who's seen you before, even if it wasn't in person until this point."

His words, despite being said rather haphazardly, were honest. His tone was still a bit harsh, but his face showed no signs of bad-intent. He was cruel, but he was still a doctor. The patient's health was the biggest priority right now.

Before it was time to take a peek at the bruise, he put his fingers to her neck and tapped his leg to keep track of the rhythm in her veins, eyes keeping an eye on the clock. It was best to get her pulse this way, or that was how he'd always found worked best. He turned his back to her to write it down as well.

"I'll need to have your top off to see the bruise. While it may make sense if it's a gym injury, the placement is a bit unusual sounding. What equipment do you usually use? Well... Either way, it's best to take all precautions in this matter. Or rather, it's my duty to do such."