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Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 1:37:59 GMT
After a final drag, Mathilde let her cigarette slip from her fingers, crushing it out beneath the heel of her boot. It seemed the only sensible thing to wear, here where the streets were paved with broken glass and used syringes.
Unless this was a particularly elaborate hoax, the back alley doctor bit seemed a pretty likely truth. She considered the dingy buildings around her - maybe she should have been a bit afraid, but somehow she wasn't. Mathilde had always had an apathetic sort of fearlessness.
Now where was the good doctor?
@will
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Post by Deleted on Jan 25, 2014 22:26:35 GMT
After his boss ran out of him a while back, William was left alone in the dingy clinic. Business was never quite a struggle; for his understanding of modern medicine that overcame books and theory thanks to his faked confidence and lack of choice for his patients.
That evening, his coat felt stiff. The Englishman was looking through records, his reading glasses perched on his nose; his only customer for the day leaving some good three hours ago. Business mainly thrived during the evenings, anyway.
He suddenly stood though, upright to his feet, straightening the crinkles of the collar of his shirt and the sides of his coat, thinking of going for a walk. Instead, walking through the dingy main room and opening the front door and catching old dust in the process, his expression was one of mild surprise at the woman with the court black hair. It twisted into one of a knowing smile though.
"Miss Mathilde. How good it is to grace me with your presence." He offered her a baiting look; he had all the secrets, now was she going to fall?
@mathilde
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mezzanine
Jan 27, 2014 13:34:20 GMT
via mobile
Post by Deleted on Jan 27, 2014 13:34:20 GMT
The door was worn - it looked like it had been slashed and pockmarked and bent - but it slid open on smooth hinges, abrupt and disarming.
Mathilde smiled when it swung open to a familiar face. "Evening, doctor." She gave a small mock of a salute, and peered over his shoulder into the clinic. Empty.
"How's business?" She asked anyways.
@will
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Post by Deleted on Feb 3, 2014 19:17:56 GMT
He beamed her a smile like it transmitted from outer-space; it was foreign and felt so, so out of place. He nodded, and didn't say anything else. He stepped back to let her in and switched on the old lights for the guest, since William was very much a night owl and honorary bat. The lights washed the room in an uncomfortable yellow glow, and it even buzzed a little.
"Do excuse me, my place? Modest, at best." Of course, William jumped from place to place. The door to his office is left ajar, and he heads towards the kitchen.
"Chamomile tea? New blend, new life, fabulous stuff." He poked his head out of the kitchen door and grinned because there's nothing to grin about.
@mathilde
//idk im sry this is horrid
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Post by Deleted on Feb 16, 2014 2:36:04 GMT
She stepped inside, glancing around the semidarkness before William flicked the cheap florescent on. It looked just like what you'd expect of an illegitimate clinic. A few cheap folding chairs set out, magazines from before Mathilde was born set out like some sort of joke of a waiting room.
She just followed William, sweeping a few strands of hair off her cheek and into place. "Sure." Mathilde chewed the inside of her cheek. She still wasn't entirely sure of what she was doing here, and she peered past William into the kitchen curiously.
@will
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Post by Deleted on Mar 23, 2014 18:21:19 GMT
He sang a song, tripped over some words and began murmuring some faded, long forgotten Latin words that were only fragments of sounds by the time they came out of his mouth. Before long, he was already carrying a gaudy red plastic tray and two delicate china cups - a contrast too shocking for words. He set them on top of old magazines without a care, lounged on an empty chair which had a good view of the door, then started blowing raspberries but not - he sounded like he was strangling air than cutting through it.
"Did'ja have a nice day t'day, hm?" He finally gave Mathilde a look, if not a bizarre one. He was content with himself like that, now with his cup in his hands and taking a tiny sip.
@mathilde
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