ph_logs | Sometimes I stare out of the window and think about how lucky I am...

Sometimes I stare out of the window and think about how lucky I am...

Who: Bart Torgal and...you?
What: Seasonal log, as he attempts to earn enough money for a vessel
When: Mid-spring through event times
Where: Watson's clinic, Bart's lab
Warnings: General warning for poorly-dealt-with mental health themes, will update as necessary

Bart's winter had been bad. Terrible, really. For every ounce of progress he made, there was some kind of setback. Something that crippled him in his research or his attempts at having anything resembling a social life. He feels more alone than ever, even with the knowledge that there are people that at the very least think well of him. But what did that matter, really, when he's opted not to show his face out in the world unless it was for work?

1. The Clinic
From the moment that he knew he was good for something around here, he'd put himself to work on it. Working intake at John Watson's clinic, he'd been updating paperwork and helping to educate the doctor on updated medical techniques and information, knowing that if he had the common knowledge behind him of an additional couple of centuries of advancement, then who would he be to keep it to himself? So he was careful to pass on everything that he knew, and make all of his research available to the staff both here, and at Winterbottom's clinic closer to the center of town.

A handmade wooden sign with a slider that denotes when the clinic is open indicates that they are seeing patients. Walking into the clinic, you will see him sitting behind a desk, writing or occasionally drawing, filling out page upon page of notes from loose sheets. There are pamphlets, printed on thick card paper and folded neatly, for newcomers to peruse so that they had a better idea of how to approach an appointment. In an emergency, the boy is cool-headed, his manner and way of speaking incredibly gentle.

"Welcome to the clinic of Doctor John Watson, what can we do for you?"

2. The Lab
When not at the clinic, Bart is at home. Those that have known him for a while know that he's been working nonstop to turn part of his home into a proper laboratory for the production of everything from batteries to make the radio project by Tarantulas viable in the long term, to assisting in the production of penicillin from the samples that he'd been getting from the various farms around the island. The latter is at least coming along better, as materials to fabricate long-lasting, rechargeable batteries that wouldn't degrade into physical hazards is somewhat beyond his means just now.

When at home, he works late into the night, his lamps lit until the wee hours. He doesn't associate much with the people outside of his research, a long-standing habit that he has yet to curtail as he remains nervous about getting close to anyone at all.

A visitor will have to knock loudly, or find a window of his lab to tap on if they want his attention while he's wrist-deep in a production cycle for an antibiotic that he's attempting to prepare for proper in-vivo testing. He's going to look poorly slept, somewhat haunted, ragged around the edges like a college student studying for finals. There are samples absolutely everywhere, from the island, from the ocean, and from the outer edges of the entrance of Hepogaia.

Wildcard
Bart can also be found in fits and starts out in the forest, or down at the beach, pursuing lines of inquiry and writing in blank notebooks that rapidly fill with small handwriting and sketches that look more akin to diagrams than regular art. He's not an artist after all, just desperate to remember as much as possible, with an eye for details and an almost pathological need to put everything down accurately. Speaking up without letting him see you coming will make him jump. Sorry.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Heh yeah, trust me. Magne would bring it up once and then when I didn't she'd probably drag me here physically." That same chuckle and grin. "Pretty sure he'd want to but he might still be too...uneasy with me sometimes." At least that's how Dabi saw it, even if the guy was nice he could only imagine how far that would go when César has heard what the man is capable of.

"Huh? Oh yeah sure, knock yourself out. They spread more when I push myself...there was an incident recently and..." He sort of motioned towards the parts with redder edges that definitely looked irritated and raw. "What ya wanna see first? Face? Hands? Probably have to get a gown for you t'see the rest."

If Dabi doesn't stop looking charming when he says things, Bart might actually sort of feel like it's safe to look at him in the first place.

He almost smiles at the commentary about Cesar, until Dabi points out that he would have to be wearing a lot less to have full access to the extent of his scars. Bart makes a soft sound, then nods. "If you would be comfortable, having a full accounting of the damage would be beneficial for developing a treatment plan." Approaching it as a scientist rather than any kind of flirtation.

Too bad for Bart then because Dabi is pretty charismatic for a walking pile of burnt bacon.

That being said, as much as Dabi wants to say something else flirty in regards to having to strip, he does also know that he needs to be serious about this and he does want to get better. "Whatever makes shit easier, you're the boss."

It's unfortunate really, he's not used to charismatic people giving him positive attention.

Dabi needs to be serious, and Bart is honestly very good when it comes to his job as a nurse. He'd handled the questions regarding STD testing and protection with the sterile approach and confident candor of a consummate professional, and he could certainly hold that now. "Then if you'll give me a moment I can fetch you a gown," he replies with a small nod, heading back out of the exam room and shutting the door behind him to preserve Dabi's privacy. He would be back soon enough, and wait outside the door for a minute before knocking for re-entry.

Dabi hasn't been in a hospital gown since he woke up from his coma, he's definitely grown since then and the gown is different but...he manages to figure it out and sit patiently for Bart to get back. Definitely colder than he's used to now.

Damn.

But at least Bart can actually see most of his scars now and can have easier access to seeing all of them as they band around his body in thick swatches.

"Not the prettiest thing to see."

It may not be as frigid in this office as it might be in normal doctors' offices where either of them grew up, but it is still cold to sit in a room with only your underthings and a thin gown on. While Dabi gets comfortable, Bart drags a stool over to be able to sit while he conducts his examination. He picks a pen light out of a pocket of his work coat and reaches a gloved hand out for Dabi's wrist, gingerly turning it over to be able to get a closer look at the subtle gap between his burn scars and the pale skin it was stapled to. His thumb glides gently over the seam and over one of the staples themselves.

"Goodness," he murmurs, carefully turning the hand over and frowning at the rippling, dark tissue across the meat of the man's palm. "Your pain receptors must be utterly shot..."

"Completely." Nodding Dabi sighed. "It's great when I wanna give myself another piercing or take a hit in a fight but....also means I don't always catch when I've snagged a staple or something."

He could be falling apart and never actually notice it.

"It...hm. It wouldn't necessarily be feasible to try and replace them with sutures, not for damage this extensive. Really this should have all been debrided a long time ago and grafted over, but I daresay there isn't much by way of viable tissue left. I would have suggested taking thin swaths from your back to cover larger areas, but it would be essentially degloving you repeatedly and I wouldn't want that for anyone regardless of whether they could feel it or not. If there were willing donors, that would be a bit safer, but it also carries the risk of rejection. I wouldn't worry about cost, but the procedure as a whole may be difficult." He's just thinking through the process as he continues to feel his way around the scars, making mental notes here and there. Somewhere that a staple has popped out, where a hole has stretched or ripped, where one has snagged and come askew. He handles Dabi delicately, occasionally moving to make a note in his file before moving back to work again.

He maintains that gentle touch as he turns Dabi's head to see just how far up the back of his neck it went. Those fingertips slide into the edge of his hairline as the other hand shines a light to get a better view. The damage seems thinner here, slightly less devastating, but still rough nonetheless.

"Would you be willing to be patient while I talked with some of the local healers? There are some that could speed your recovery in between proper treatments. I just want to be sure that this is done correctly so you don't end up with lasting side effects or long-term complications from rejected donors."

Dabi isn't used to the careful way that Bart treats him, tilting his head where he's directed with little coaxing. He's also not used to the idea of someone wanting so badly to help him in a way that won't hurt him...even knowing he can't actually feel pain.

"Uh..." It makes him falter a moment, stall as he has to get his brain firing again because...he's just that unused to someone being so nice to him. Clearing his throat Dabi does finally manage to speak up. "I mean, I was just here for some burn cream or something. This is a lot more, yeah I can wait."

When Dabi points out that he was here for something a lot simpler to begin with, Bart colors around the ears once more, withdraw in his hands and busying himself making a last note. "Yes, right, my apologies. I suppose I got a bit carried away there. You don't have to do anything if it isn't what you want for yourself, but the option is there either way. Here, I can write a prescription, and have you see miss Boyle at the apothecary."

The color is amusing to see, not as much as the first time but it does still have Dabi smiling.

"Hey," He starts, waving the other off a bit. "You are trying to help me, that's more than I can say for a lot of people. It's....not half bad." It's nice even. "I appreciate it, really. Honestly, it might be nice to see if fixing some of this is actually possible."

"It's my job here," he points out. "If I couldn't help you at all I wouldn't say anything, but, well, obvious I'd like to try. Perhaps..." Bart surveys him sitting there, teeth closing on the inside of his lip briefly. "Perhaps if we were to start smaller, using skin from your thigh to graft your lower leg or your forearm, we could be sure that it would take before moving on. A burn cream would keep the edges from spreading any further in the meantime. But Touya, I would need you to keep me updated. See me for progress reports, and make sure that you have someone that you trust nearby for help changing bandages, at least at first."

"Yeah it may be your job, but a persons job hasn't kept them from being shitty to someone else...or even just kept 'em from turnin' a blind eye." Sorry Bart, he's jaded. His faith in people is near non-existent.

Though so far, Bart is making a good show of being someone he might actually be able to tentatively trust so far.

"Yeah?" It's a start at least, besides he wasn't lying when he called Bart easy on the eyes. "You know, it wouldn't be such a hardship. Plus, gotta start somewhere right? I can make it to some doctors appointments if it means getting a start on fixin' all this." As he justures to all of himself.

"I...suppose that's true." Far truer in his experience than you could ever know, Dabi. "Sometimes the welfare of other people just isn't something on a person's radar, as sad a reality as that is."

At the affirmation that Dabi would be willing to adhere to his treatment, Bart calms, offering a small, relieved smile. "Right. Starting small to make sure that it'll go smoothly is the wisest course of action that I can see at the moment. I don't think I'll ever be able to completely remove what's happened to you, but I'd like to think that you'll be healthier for it overall, when you don't have to worry about bursting a seam."

"Yeah, sorta like testing hair dye." He shrugged, not that he had to worry about that any more. Thank god.

Then the topic of how Bart couldn't completely remove "what's happened to you" and Touya can't help the humorless laugh that escapes his lips.

"Trust me, I don't think anyone could. The scars go deeper than they look." His eyes take on a tired sort of look before the mask covers them again and he's just smirking. "But I'm sure I'll be good in your gentle hands. Not busting a seam would be nice too."

"Hair dye...? I suppose you're not wrong," he replies, looking toward Touya's hair, privately thinking that it probably took dye very easily, pale as it is. All the better to test on, he thinks.

There's a sympathy to the way that Bart looks at him that's so earnest as to almost certainly be completely alien to him. For a split second, Bart wants to reach out and reassure him. This is an app though, and he's already told himself that he's done putting himself out there to risk being hurt again.

"I'll make sure that your trust in me is well justified," he promises, and returns once more to his notes, before continuing the exam kneeling to inspect the staples around Touya's legs and down at his ankles. "Hmm, higher friction areas like this really should have had more maintenance...would you mind terribly if we started with these? I can't imagine that socks are particularly comfortable, and it gets so cold here sometimes."

That gentle look, it's something Touya used to see when he was younger before it became far off and cold. It sets his teeth on edge and he's glad when Bart seems to catch himself and go back to being a bit more professional. It's not that he doesn't like the look...it's that he's afraid of what a look like that could mean for him. What letting someone care about him could mean, someone more than Magne or Cesar, both being more damaged like him. Neither being so...gentle.

"Yeah...sure. Was hard keeping up with them when I was younger. Before I joined the League I was on the streets...so...yeah." And that orphanage? Hospital? He didn't remember where it was he had woken up but he knew that he didn't want to stay there. It didn't feel right.

But home was even less alright.

"Never been one for 'em...used to over heat too much and then they would aggravate the staples. Or they'd get caught."

Bart is careful as he gingerly lifts one of Touya's legs to get a better look at the seam around the back of his heel, sucking in a short breath. It's more raw than the rest for obvious reasons, and he very carefully puts it back down again to settle back on his knee to look at the other leg. "Goodness...at least they tried to help in taking care of you?" He hopes so, at least. This much maintenance would probably be near impossible alone. To think that he was forced to for so long...

When he stands again, Bart moves to write a proper prescription, making a small note for miss Boyle to keep a stock of the ointments in question up since it seems like they're going to be necessary in perpetuity.

"That makes sense, though. We'll have to find something else that may suffice in the meantime until treatment has advanced enough. For the time being, I think you can at least get away with some slips. I will say that I don't want you walking around here barefoot, any number of nasty things could make their way in through the cracks and our supply of antibiotics is fairly limited. We're trying to control our use of them from the outset anyway, to avoid the creation of what were once charmingly called 'superbugs'."

"Yeah, I had a little help..." When he'd let them, and not since Magne was around if he's being honest. Twice tried but with his own issues it ended up more a mess than anything else. The only other person he remotely trusted to help him out was Compress.

"Don't like walking barefoot anyways," Not since he was a kid. "but yeah, I can look at getting something a little better." He'd try at least.

Bart seems satisfied with that, and he smiles faintly as he starts to gather his tools together to sanitize and put away.

"Wonderful. Now, is there anything else that you would like to have looked at while you've got me here? I can also assist with preventative care as needed, and I know that managing some things has been a bit difficult, if you can't necessarily feel what might be wrong."

"Uh...not that I can think of off the top of my head." Shrugging Dabi thought about his life and his previous dealings with doctors or medical staff. It was never exactly good for him. He was always getting bad news from them. This time however, this wasn't so bad. Someone seemed like they wanted to help him heal and that was definitely different.

"Yeah, it can be. Lately I've been thinking about practicing more precision and control, usually I just go for power but I don't think I'll be needing that as much here."

"I hate to place a limitation on you like this, but I think in the interest of keeping you together until we can proceed with treatment in earnest, I may have to ask you to try to hold off on using your fire in general. At the very least it would be encouraging to keep the existing damage from worsening past the point of no return. When you've begun to heal, then I would only suggest some limited applications. Perhaps training in temperature control as well as precision, as you said. Make smaller, more utilitarian fires rather than full scorched earth bombardments," he suggests evenly, as if such a thing is a perfectly normal medical prognostication.

"Huh," Dabi sort of shift a bit before nodding. "I mean, I can try. Sort of second nature to use it but...I can try at least."

There's another pause before he adds. "No promises."

"I'm only asking you to make the attempt so that you might have a quicker recovery when I'm able to talk to some of the others around. It will always be completely up to you whether you follow the advice or not," Bart assures him as he gathers his supplies to be sanitized and put away, the notes being put aside on a table nearby.

"Yeah, makes sense. Like I said, I'll try." He will, even if in the end he does still mess up and hurt himself more. It'll be last time that's for sure, but that's for future Dabi to worry about.

"So is that all or...?"

Sometimes I stare out of the window and think about how lucky I am...

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