ph_logs | I think you ought to walk with me and be safe [November Open]

I think you ought to walk with me and be safe [November Open]

Who: Chris Freeman & ... First Aid (

lovinglefthand) / Erik Osborne (

lordoftheozarks) / River la Croix (

somebodychildofanyone) / The Shade (

deaths_head) ... & YOU!
What: catch-all, wildcard, and promised threads
When: in-game November, post-Pumpkinfest
Where: All around town
Warning(s): discussions of trauma, past deaths (in-game and backstory) are likely; probably NSFW in the Erik thread, lbr... mind the comment headers if anything else comes up.

OPEN - Hey there Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are lookin' good...
Chris happens to find the idea of seniority based on who's been on Marrow Isle the longest to be an absurd way to organize things. Dr. Winterbottom, despite her retirement, is the final authority for medical matters because she's a local and has the most experience out of all of them. Chris isn't sure exactly how to organize everyone else, but they consider themself at the bottom of the rankings, having only book learning, some experience as a medical assistant, and employment history as a coroner.

So it's not unusual to see Chris taking on the 'drudge work' -- arranging appointments for people, making home visits for follow up purposes, arranging supply contacts for 'the real doctors' to get the things their clinics need. This frees up people like Sally Boyle, First Aid, Dr. Pierce, and Dr. Watson to do the things that only they -- trained and experienced pharmacologists, doctors, and surgeons -- can do.

It's very likely to see Chris somewhere around town on an errand of some sort, or even visiting the outskirts to keep tabs on people who live away from the town center.

CLOSED to First Aid - You spent your stipend on THAT?
"You got the general store to tell you what grocery package I bought for next month?" Chris asks. They fold their arms over their chest defensively. "I'm an adult, you know. I can spend my money as I please."

The confrontation with First Aid is most likely taking place at the Winterbottom Clinic after hours. Seems that First Aid is very serious about making sure that everyone is as healthy as possible. Including their co-worker Chris.

CLOSED to Lord Erik Osborne - I promised you a fashion show...
Chris finally accepted their fate as one of Dr. Agnes Winterbottom's sucessors, and took over running her clinic at the end of October. As of November first, they've been given a small house within walking distance of said clinic, and moved their few material possessions from a room at the Oak and Iron into the house.

Chris asked Sam to deliver a letter to Erik -- and the vampire lord will find that it's an invitation to visit Chris's new home.

Part of it reads: 'Any evening that you're free, just give me a day's notice so I won't be on call that night. I promised you a little fashion show, remember?'

(Which may be enticing on its own, but this also gives Erik a chance to satisfy his curiosity about Chris's powers. Answering questions in private is usually more comfortable.)

CLOSED to River - A miracle of food engineering... (and maybe other engineering too)
Despite slightly rocky interactions -- Chris cried during their first conversation, and River accidentally sliced her fingers during their second -- Chris is actually feeling pretty good about a friendship with the head blacksmith of Infernal Arms and Armor.

And because it worked so well last time (with Sam), Chris trades in one of their last food vouchers for some savory hand pies from the Oak and Iron's kitchens. Come lunch time, they are at River's forge with a basket of food to share.

Has River been introduced to the idea of hand pies yet?

Chris also has some ideas for a bed -- an old design in their own world, not available on Marrow Isle -- that could help with post-surgical recovery. Zie wants to talk about the idea with River, and see if fabricating the parts is doable... either with her team, or from John who does less weapon-related forging.

CLOSED to The Shade - Death dad and death son go a-hunting
Both Chris and the Shade have a connection to death, something that the Shade could easily see when they met at a shooting game during Pumpkinfest. That hadn't been the right venue to get more information on using that connection to death with a weapon, as the Shade offered to teach them about... but some time in November?

Chris heads over to the Shade's place one morning, at his invitation. They've got their most sturdy shoes and sensible clothes on (no skirts or slippers today), and just their first aid kit in their ever-present bag. Chris isn't quite sure what these lessons will entail, but they are determined to be a good student.

OPEN - Wildcard
Did I promise something with Chris and forget it? It happens, my brain is a garbage fire. Feel free to toss anything at us here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Serious mistake..?" Chris tilts their head. "I think it'd be serious if you also weren't listening to me. But for now, it's just a regular mistake."

They walk closer, maybe intending to put a gentle hand on First Aid again -- these talks always seem to go a little better when they show they still support him, after all, and touch is a form of silent support.

"It's not like I was unable to afford the bigger grocery package," Chris says, "but I made a choice to use my money for something I wanted more. I would have told you what I was budgeting for groceries if you asked, and I probably would have accepted your help if you offered it."

They reach out and pat First Aid's arm.

"You're upset," First Aid says quietly. "You think I don't respect or trust you. How can it be anything less than serious?"

Still, he relaxes very slightly when Chris downgrades it to a 'regular' mistake, and even more when they pat his hand. If they're still clearly willing to do that much, then probably his mistake wasn't so catastrophic that they're unwilling to forgive him.

"I didn't ask about whatever else you're spending your money on," he says. "I know that's none of my business. But I was worried you wouldn't have enough, and then I started worrying about what I'd do if you got sick..." He twists his hands together fretfully. "I should have asked. I get that now. But I guess it didn't seem like a big deal to me? I had the ability to make up the difference, so I did it."

"I am upset, but now that you're explaining your reasons, the upset is lessening." Chris considers First Aid's worries. "And it sounds like we need a plan for what happens if I do get sick. Just in case. Would that help?"

Chris gives a wry smile. "I don't know if it's objectively a big deal or not. But it felt like one to me. Like you were judging me for splurging on the lacy robe instead of waiting a little longer to get it."

(Oh right, First Aid said he didn't know or ask what Chris spent his money on... well, it's not like the general store would have been able to tell. Chris got that custom piece of clothing from an entirely different shop.)

"Probably," First Aid agrees. "At the very least, I'd like to know about it if you're not feeling well...and I'd like permission to treat you, if you do get sick." Even if most of his job consisted of monitoring Chris's vitals and writing prescriptions for Sally, he'd still like to be in the loop.

The explanation of what was so important that Chris took money out of their food budget for it knocks First Aid for a loop, but only for a moment. It makes sense when he thinks about it -- or at least, it fits with what he's been told about Chris's past. Their experience is very similar to that of a hypothetical femme whose mentor or employer doesn't care to give her the time off to get herself re-framed -- a shockingly cruel move, especially since that kind of thing was supposed to be guaranteed by law under Sentinel Prime's government. How can he blame Chris for wanting to make up for it now?

"I wouldn't judge you for that," he finally says. "I think I can see how important that would be to you. I just wish --" He cuts himself off with an embarrassed little laugh. "If I'd just asked you about the groceries in the first place, I could have told you I support you then. And then the brass would have been a gift to show how much I meant it, instead of a trick to make you embarrassed. I get it now. I'm sorry." He said that already, didn't he? Well, he's especially sorry now.

"I wouldn't mind being treated by you, if I get sick. I'm going to be the one treating you if you get sick, after all. That's what our lessons are about." Chris gives First Aid a smile -- it's a peace offering and a question 'we're okay now, right?' -- and gives his arm a squeeze.

Chris was prepared to have to explain, to argue and defend for their choice. First Aid getting there on his own, and just accepting that it's important, is unexpected but welcome.

"Apology accepted," Chris says warmly. "And I accept the money in the spirit you meant it -- to help me take care of myself." They'll go in for a hug if it looks like First Aid is amenable to one.

Always. First Aid will always be amenable to hugs from Chris. He hugs them back, gently, and lets them go with a little pat on the back. "I've kept you out so late," he says ruefully. "Would you like a ride back to the Oak & Iron? I wouldn't mind."

"I've actually relocated," Chris admits. "Some nice folks who work in Town Hall figured out an available house within walking distance of here, and someone cleaned it up during... early days of Pumpkinfest."

Chris goes and grabs a piece of paper, writing down their new address and phone number. They show it to First Aid, and when he's got it, they'll pin it to the corkboard on the wall.

"It wouldn't be a long walk, but you're welcome to escort me if you like, Aidie."

"Oh? That's great!" After all, not everyone is comfortable curling up with a sheet in the storeroom and switching their brain off.

"It'd be my pleasure," he adds, and reaches for the clinic's keys.

There's a chill in the air as night deepens -- winter isn't here yet, but definitely waiting in the wings, as it were. Because they feel safe with Aidie by their side, Chris does a little twirl and looks up at the sky before continuing on the way to their new home.

"The stars look different here. I'm still not used to it," Chris comments.

"...I hadn't really noticed, but you're right." First Aid's not much of an astronomer; the Autobots had Cosmos and Perceptor for that. He offers Chris their arm once they've finished their twirl (adorable), feeling a bit like a movie actor as they walk together down the street.

"At least this world has a yellow sun too," he says, only half-seriously. "Getting used to a red giant in the sky would have been quite the adjustment."

Chris smiles and takes First Aid's offered arm.

"I wonder if the people here would be able to fly like Kryptonians if that were the case... or how badly someone pale like me would burn under a red sun."

They caught on to the fact that First Aid is joking a little, but they are perfectly serious about the mention of Kryptonians.

"I'm no expert, but I think that's backwards," First Aid says playfully. "I thought the Kryptonians were normal people on their planet with its red sun, and they got superpowers when they were exposed to Earth's yellow sun? But I'm no expert." He shrugs slightly mind already shifting topics.

"I think sunburns would actually be less of an issue, if the sun was red," he says thoughtfully. "Burns are usually caused by overexposure to ultraviolet light, which a red sun would necessarily be putting out to a lower degree...on the other hand the extra infrared light might cause damage to people's retinas...although I'd think it'd depend on when the sun entered its red stage relatively to humanity's development. You evolve so quickly, after all."

"It depends on which universe they come from," Chris says absently, "though I think you're right for the Superman in my universe. Not that the Gotham Gazette runs that many articles about him that don't have to do with catastrophes averted."

Chris considers those ideas from First Aid, and hums thoughtfully. "So if this world had a red sun, the locals would likely be adapted to it, but us newcomers would probably have to wear special sunglasses..."

"That's my theory anyway..." Wait a second. Waaaaaait a second.

"Chris." First Aid glances down at them, wondering if they're making a joke that he missed. "Are you implying that in your universe, Superman is a real person? And Gotham's a real place?" Because after twenty-two years cohabitating with Streetwise, that's the part that really jumped out at First Aid and caught his attention.

"Uh, yes to both..." Chris says, "And I should hope Gotham City is real... it's where I was living before I came here."

They'd only mentioned New York before, in the context of what their father did, where they grew up, where they went to school. Things that would seem perfectly normal. But, of course, to Chris living in a world with superheroes is normal.

"Oh my god..." What can First Aid even say to that? He stares off into the middle distance for a moment, absolutely stunned. He can tell Chris isn't lying to him, but he's still pretty taken aback.

Finally he remembers how words work again, at least enough to ask, "And Batman? Is he real too?"

"I never met him, but he sure has an extensive support network for someone who's supposedly an urban legend," Chris replies. "Detective Xiao never liked how I'd go out of the bounds of my job, so you can imagine he never had nice things to say about Batman and the other vigilantes."

Chris is a little bemused by First Aid's reaction. "Why do you think Superman and Batman aren't real?"

"Well. Because they're comic book characters in my universe!" First Aid laughs, rubbing his face with his free hand. "They're completely fictional -- and my brother Streetwise has been collecting every Batman comic he can find for the last twenty years, oh my god. His face when I make it back home and tell him I actually met someone from a real version of Gotham City..."

He giggles again, just a little hysterically. "I wonder if it would break space-time if I told you what Batman's secret identity is."

"...that's very strange," Chris murmurs. "I don't feel any less real than you do, I think. Though how would I know?"

Chris goes quiet, thinking about all the strange things that have happened in the world they know. The supervillains, the cosmic threats, the fights that sometimes break out between superheroes who can't work together. The idea that all of that was invented for the entertainment of people on some higher plane of reality is... disconcerting. As is the idea that their friend has so much more knowledge of their world than Chris had thought possible for someone from a different universe.

Chris leans into First Aid a little, needing the reassurance that the two of them are here, together, and equally real.

"I think... I would rather not know. If you don't mind."

"Of course you're real." First Aid gently frees his arm so he can put it around Chris's shoulders instead, tucking them up against his side and giving them a gentle squeeze. "You have mass and volume, your mind has interiority. You're my friend. A bunch of silly comics can't change that. There might even be some universe out there where I'm just a character in a book, but that doesn't make this version of me standing here talking to you any less real, right?"

It'd probably be a pretty boring book, though, unless it was written for people who really like medical dramas. Like that General Hospital show on TV, only without all the relationship drama.

"I won't tell you," he assures them. "I was just thinking out loud. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You'd be in a video game, surely," Chris protests, with a soft smile. The suggestion seems like a way to distract them from their thoughts about being fictional, and not much more, but Chris plays along. "All those rescue missions to help people could be translated into video game stages."

Chris's house is indeed not very far from the clinic. They point it out as it comes into sight, and comment, "I haven't done much to decorate it yet. But maybe I will, eventually. Having a job will pay much better than just the base stipend every month. Do you think you might get a place outside of the clinic? You can, you know."

"Oh, that actually doesn't sound so bad..." People will have fun playing even the silliest video games, First Aid knows this from experience.

He gives Chris's house an approving look. "Oh, probably not," he says easily. "I don't even know what I'd do with that much space. I'm glad you'll be more comfortable, though," he adds, giving Chris's shoulder another gentle squeeze before letting go. "Maybe I could come over sometime and see what it looks like inside?"

"Give me a little time to get it cleaned up and how I like it, and then you'll have a standing invitation."

Chris pauses at the door after unlocking it. "I suppose you'd only accept a house if you could turn around and give it to a new arrival, huh?" They wink, letting First Aid in on the joke.

"Probably!" First Aid concedes with a quiet giggle. He looks down at Chris and suddenly feel the strangest, most bizarrest urge to ask if he can come in right now. And spend the night.

But that's just silly. Chris deserves time to themselves, and privacy, and First Aid's already wasted enough of their night. He tilts his head instead, voice warm as he says, "Well, I suppose this is good night."

"Good night, Aidie! Rest well. I'll most likely bother you in the morning!"

(So a few liberties were taken with that 'Princess Bride' quote. It fits better, and if Aidie isn't familiar, "I'll most likely kill you in the morning" could be taken very wrong.)

Chris smiles, gives a little wave, and then enters the house. They're going to go right to bed... it's been a long day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I think you ought to walk with me and be safe [November Open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject