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.

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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...?"

"Unless you've got other questions for me, yes," he replies with a small nod. "And as for an ointment to help keep it all in check for the time being and soothe any new burns-" A bit of paper is handed over for Dabi to take along to Blackberry Apothecary. "Be sure to let her know if you're got any allergies that you're aware of so that she doesn't give you anything to make it worse without realizing it."

"Got it, thanks doc." There's a bit of a grin as he slides off where he's perched and makes to grab for his clothes before looking over his shoulder. "Right...I don't think I got your name?"

Bart pauses on his way out, briefly thinking on correcting Dabi that he wasn't a doctor, just the nurse on staff here, then thinks better of it. What does it matter, really?

"Bart Torgal," he replies. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, he adds, "if you ever forget, it's also on the little name plate on the front desk."

"No worries on that, I've got a pretty good memory." He almost says something more but decides against it. Sure Bart is easy on the eyes but it's too forward and pretty unprofessional of him.

Not that he's ever been any sort of professional.

Still he grins and gives another wave as he strides back out, hands in his pockets.

Eventually Bart will learn about that photographic memory of Touya's but for now, he would simply take the comment as it is. He moves to walk the man back to the front before he settles back in behind his desk.

"Please take care of yourself as much as you can, Todoroki-san. Don't hesitate to contact us if you need any further assistance."

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

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