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Shifting Studies; Open
Topic Started: Jun 22 2011, 03:21 AM (258 Views)
Morphine
Unregistered

Date: June 21
Time: 8:15 A.M.



Crimson eyes buried deep into the text of her book Darcy barely pays any attention to her surroundings. Then again why should she? This was Sanctuary and it was the safest place she has ever felt in her life. Even if she didn’t even know the exact location or the fact that they were buried under an ocean. This place was basically Atlantis, just with that single thought she lowered her book. Atlantis… stopping in the middle of the street she moved against the nearest building.

Her eyes began to look at the other people of Sanctuary. Mutants all happy and feel the same protection that this place brings. Clutching her book she feels bad not keeping in touch with her father. But they decided it best to split ways; him smothering her wouldn’t be a great way to grow up. Sighing what has been done is done and complaining or sulking about it. That was never the way to get things done. Pushing herself from the building Darcy raised her book back to her face, she had to study for her next medical exam. Which was in three weeks, but still it was good to keep on her toes.

Not like she wasn’t already a currently working doctor already, but legally she wasn’t. And honestly what was better than having a degree framed in your house. The scent of coffee caught Darcy’s attention. There was literally no reason for her to not get some sort of nutrients while studying. That and walking around with a book is never the safest thing to do.

Going inside she was greeted by the lovely sound of a ringing bell. Looking up and the menu she hummed a small tune. Luckily enough there was a small line. This gives her time to think about what she wanted. She started to read the whole menu to find the simple things to be easier.

Getting an order of a coffee with french vanilla cream and a couple of scones. Waiting for a few moments in the corner until her name was called. Taking her drink and scones she went outside to take a seat. The artificial light and heat makes Darcy wonder about sending a weather request. Eh. maybe later, first to study. Placing her textbook on the table she took slow sips and bites at her breakfast. Her eyes never truly removed from the book, when she was finished her meal she removed her glasses to bite at the arm.

Taking out a pen from one of her many pockets from her pants she clicked it near her ear. The sound was soothing and isolated herself from the world around her while she read. Once Darcy was finished with the chapter she went back underline and circling all the important notes. Tilting her head back so the chair supported her neck she sighed. "They say people shouldn't drown themselves in their work." she murmured to herself. But it was so hard for her to separate herself from her studies.

Distractions were hard for her to come by living alone and going to work. Closing her book her head went upright once again, "I'm going to do something today." Looking around she was a tad bit louder than she thought. Making her eyes wider and smiling she waved at the group of people outside. Pushing her feet into the ground she made her chair lean on two legs as she held out her glasses.

"But what to do?" Darcy pretended her glasses acted as a scope to find someone or something of interest as she moved the glasses around. Her normal habit was to scan the people around her, but she won't because it would be a far invasion of privacy. Darcy worked hard to get to this place and she isn't going to ruin it because of her past habits. Maybe she should take a small break...Well didn't this count as a break?
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Toad
Unregistered

Darcy wouldn't need any fancy scans or medical training to know at least one thing about the crowd around her; the green guy with no eyebrows was wasted. Holding his paper cup up to the sun, Toad guaged the amount remaining and, after his tongue took a flask from his coat, filled it to barely below the brim. Who knew how much coffee was even left in the concoction, how many times he'd repeated the process. At this point, Toad certainly didn't know the answer to either question. Hell, he barely knew which end of the fag to light.

"Fucking ponces, fucking sun," he muttered through misshapen hands, trying to rub the fatigue from his face. While no stranger to daydrinking, eight in the morning would normally be a little early to start, but, on Toad's schedule, this was well into the evening and he'd be passing out as soon as the coffee wore off and the booze kicked in. Given his appearance, Toad couldn't really counter the general consensus that his missions should be at night and, even in darkness, they should still probably involve working with a certain class of person, and it wasn't posh little fucks sipping sherry out of Schwarvsky shit. In this case, it was beer swilled from dirty mugs in Los Angeles. If asked to imagine Hell, Toad would probably picture a slightly less horrific version of LA; "City of Angels" his green arse.

He'd been looking for an isolated mutant terrorist to invite into the glorious fraternity that was the Brotherhood; unfortunately, the wanker was, well, already in a Brotherhod of a rather contradictory sort. Toad's reaction to the swastika tattooed on the man's neck had been less than tactful, to put it lightly. Not that Magneto would do any complaining on that count, he imagined, although whoever had been responsible for the intelligence was, he assumed, in deep shit. Not that Toad really minded, I mean, bloody hell, if you find out a bloke's in a bike gang, figure out which sodding gang before sending some poor green geezer into a bar full of neo-nazis. Whoever it was should be in deep shit.

Now he just had to get pissed enough that he couldn't feel the bruises left by a tire iron and hammer hitting him, then he could finally get some rest. Free liquor was an underrated upside to mutant-powered bar brawls, since even the idiotic tuff guys usually made a run for it when they saw somebody break another bloke's bones with his tongue. At least it was discreet enough; he doubted LA's renowned police department would lose much sleep over a dead biker. At least he just had thie coffe and croissant between him and bed. At least he could enjoy the coffee, black and basically basically boiling, its bitter bite and burning heat. Of course, it started tasting a lot worse when he started added more whiskey, but he started caring a lot less at a suspiciously similar rate.

"They say people shouldn't drown themselves in their work," indeed. "They" obviously hadn't known any depressed pool cleaners, decadent vitners, or (to be less of a smartass) little reptilian freaks with few talents beyond singing, machines, and violence. When he was working, at least he was supposed to be somewhat alone, at least it was supposed to be him against the world. Times like these, the in-between hours that always found him lost and lonely, Toad was forced to remember it was really the world against him, that even here he was a freak and a misfit. You can regulate what people say and do to a degree, but even all the power in Sanctuary would never be able to change the way they looked at him. The only thing that could change that, in Toad's experience, was getting too drunk to see the way they looked.
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Morphine
Unregistered

Bingo She thought as a smile crept across her face. There was a man who just poured who knows what into his coffee. Darcy had found the trifecta of interesting beings. Green, bruised, and drunk at twisting her wrist she looked at the time that was set to Sanctuary's system. Who knew what time it actually was on the surface. Drunk at eight? Wow. Darcy thought while sliding her glasses onto her face. Once they were comfortably adjusted she began to make her move. That sounded wrong, but of course most things that she thinks is so wrong.

As she rose from her seat she collected her book and walked casually over to the man. "They say ever scar has a story. What's yours?" Darcy said looking at Toad. She could have sworn she had seen him before. Generally she could have been mistaken, green mutants or simply fully pigment changed mutants blend into together until you get to know them inside and out. Staring strictly at the slightly bruised face her head tilted to the side. A smile came on her face, as she set her medical book on the table and decided to take a seat. All by herself intruding on a perfectly good stranger.

Holding back the question, "does it hurt" back in her mind she simply stared at the nastiest bruise that she could see. <Multiple blunt force trauma, no active hemorrhaging.> Darcy murmured in Russian. Diagnosis without her powers wasn't that hard, it was just if there was internal or any type of blood-clotting she didn't want to waste the time trying to go through so many useless procedures when she could get the information in thirty seconds rather than a damn hour. And then possibly it could all be wrong or a slight error. Moving a slight bit of hair from in front of her glasses she loved testing herself.

Squinting one eye and lips pursed together, "Um. Did you visit the hospital last night? If you did, did they do anything?" Darcy just came out to ask. She was looking for any normal signs of medical care. Plus she didn't think that he went to her hospital, sure it wasn't her job to remember all the mutants that came to her division, but it is hard to forget some. "This must seem weird." Darcy said as she sighed, "I'm a doctor and I can't help worrying about people." she confessed while now slipping away from his bruises to his natural appearance.

An interesting mutation it was as her eyes hungrily stare at the man. Probably uncomfortable for the other as she looks up and down still with a grin on her face. Returning to his green face she might as well offer him so help, "I can get rid of the pain for now anyway." Darcy says while raising her hand. "Of course it would be completely temporary as long as your in my range though." Lowering her ing that happens.she chuckled, "I'm Doctor Darcy Winters by the way since I kinda made myself comfortable here." She admitted full tact wasn't always her thing when it wasn't needed. Was it anyone's actual hobby to be completely tactful? If so they must be one boring soul.

Shifting her attention back to her new subject she wonders what is going on in his mind. Sure a random woman plopping down and talking to him like they were old friends was certainly not something a normal person would do. Then again Darcy's social skills are pretty damaged, but whatever. Removing her glasses from her face she folded them to place in her pocket. It took her awhile to actually look back up considering the many times she hides behind those glasses. They were better than a security blanket. Well maybe not since at least a security blanket could keep her warm, these glasses didn't even have prescription in it.
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Toad
Unregistered

Toad, intent on judging whether or not his whiskoffee had finally gotten to disgusting to drink, didn't even see the woman come over until she spoke to him; They say every scar has a story. What's yours? He blinked at her for a moment in drunken confusion, eyelids opening and closing with an ophidian deliberateness. Toad had noticed that his pupils had recently begun to elongate into a serpentine slit and that he rarely blinked by reflex, anymore. A little more of a freak every day. “Which scar you mean?” he asked, finally, eyes darting down to the many pale patches of skin, scarred recently and in the distant past alike, for their fading was slow against his viridian flesh.

“Most of them ain't got nothing interesting behind them, just one stupid thing or another what I did a long time ago.” Was she in the Brotherhood? He thought she looked familiar, and while Sanctuary wasn't a big place, Toad also wasn't exactly a social butterfly, so he probably saw her in some professional capacity.

The woman stared at him for a little while, muttering something he either couldn't quite hear or couldn't understand under her breath. Toad kept his head cocked to one side, looking at her with the same bleary confusion as before. Then she asked if he went to the hospital. Why would she ask if he went to the hospital? Oh, yeah. Bruises everywhere. Why would she care if he went to the hospital? Probably one of those mother types, or, rather, what-Toad-assumed-a-mother-would-be-like types. “Huh? No, just nicked some compresses from a drugstore on my way back here. Barely been in Sanctuary an hour, sure I'm fine.” Just as Toad was thinking how weird this exchange seemed, his interlocutor admitted that she was sure it seemed strange. Sure did.

“I'm a doctor and I can't help worrying about people,” she explained. Toad wasn't sure those two things went hand-in-hand, since a lot of doctors worried a lot more about money and which nurse they were going to shag on their break than the welfare of their patients, from what he understood. Not that she was one of them, but still, plastic surgeons were doctors and Toad didn't exactly think they lost any sleep worrying about his mess of a boat race.

“I'm irresponsible and can't help making people worry,” he deadpanned back. Those two things didn't exactly go hand-in-hand, either, since Toad was pretty sure not much of anybody (except, evidently, those poor souls professionally bound to do so) worried much about him, at all. “I'm Toad, the Toad, whatever, pleasure, Doctor Darcy,” he said after she'd introduced herself. She must have some mutant power to anaesthetize, but, well, it was probably a little late, now. He could hardly even feel the bruises any more. “If it's no trouble, might as well, if it's a bother, I got this,” he said, swirling the coffee and whiskey mixture around in its cup. “Bloody odd, drinking a nightcap when only coffeeshops're open,” he grinned, taking a sip and halfway regretting it, before pausing to stare down into the cup for a while, “Nighttime somewhere, though, innit?”
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Morphine
Unregistered

"A story is a story." Darcy chuckled, "Usually guys say you should see the other one." Reflexively she worked her hand near her thigh. That was a scar that definitely had a short story to it. One she'll share over tequila shots of course because if she's going to bring back old wounds she's gone to dull the pain. Being beat senselessly just for loving someone and being yourself. Oh the past sucked sometimes. Whoever says whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger is semi-liar.

Experiences can be increasing tiring and annoying. And remembering doesn't help anything as well. The one thing she does have to say she regrets is that she hates the people who had scared her are still alive. If only her powers had manifested earlier. Revenge would be so nice right about now, which would give her closure.

Hearing his statement about taking drugs to cover the pain she raised a brow. He actually thought he would be okay from just taking a couple of pills. But she wasn't going to lecture a full grown man on how to take care of himself. It was hard not to take a a line straight from her thesis from a report she did a while back. But odds are that would put him to sleep.

"You know that makes you sound like a klutz." Remarking on his supposed irresponsibility. "So let me get this straight. After losing a battle with the Rocky steps, you come back to take God know how many pills and then chug down booze. Best. Healing. Session. Ever." She teases. Placing her elbow on the table she rested her chin in her hand.

Once he introduced himself a gear moved a quarter of an inch in Darcy's mind. "Ah Toad!" she said smiling far more gleefully than before. She could now match the face to the name, which was great to do sometimes. "Definitely a pleasure to meet you." Hearing stories from the Brotherhood's history a few people's name do swim about. Toad was one of them among others.

Darcy couldn't help but notice he preferred his codename over his real name. Even though many people do here, not that Darcy had anything against that. Some people felt that their codename freed them from being anywhere comparable to the homosapiens. Darcy herself enjoys her real name it holds memories to her and she won't ever toss it away. Sure she had her little codename as well, but only uses it when needed.

"Never a trouble." She said leaning forward, "There will be a small shock feeling." she warned. Pressing her hands against his face she positioned her hands on the more swelled up parts. Red sparks danced around her hands towards the man's skin. Darcy could feel the pain from the exact moment when the nerves were struck with whatever he was hit with. Her face twitch slightly as when she ran her hands down, numbing all the pain sensors in his face. "They call me Morphine by the way." As she took her seat once again.

"It could be nighttime in our current position who knows." Shrugging her shoulders she could feel the sting of her face once more, but didn't twitch. To her pain was just a repetitive feeling that could be tuned out like an annoying little brother. Plus it was another pain to have in her memory. "Besides everyone needs a good drink once in awhile. The time you drink should only matter depending on your schedule." That sentence took her back to the days of hard party drinking in college. All the future doctors already ruining their liver. Hopefully they'll be able do a transplant on themselves. That actually sounds like a test material. How many doctors can actually do surgery on themselves. Sure they could diagnose themselves and do minor medical care. But hardcore surgery with only a few items, that would be an awesome doctor.

"Now that you bring it up, why are you at a coffee shop. I never did see coffee and a alcohol as a good combination." Darcy asked. Mixing alcohol with certain drinks have never been her thing. Like orange juice, why ruin perfectly good orange juice and champagne by mixing it together? People and their taste, everything simple can be turned to something outstanding with thought.
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