⇀ july [open] post

[quitsmoking]

WHO: shoko (quitsmoking) & y'all
WHAT: general city exploration and an offering of medical care
WHERE: a grocery store, a pharmacy, and perhaps other businesses nearby
WHEN: early to mid-july
WARNINGS: none for now, but spoilers will be marked



FEASTING

[ The strangeness of it all has yet to settle, and Shoko's not entirely convinced she'll ever shake it. Even as she encounters more and more strangers, most of whom seem to be in as much of a hurry as she is, this place continues to feel off in ways she can't articulate. Even while she does the most mundane of things, like her current trip down aisle three of a humble grocery store, the sprawling emptiness of her surroundings is unsettling. It isn't homesickness, she's sure of that, as she sets a few packets of instant ramen into her cart. This city doesn't remind her anything of Tokyo, or even of the serenity of the forests and hills surrounding the school. No, the city exudes a sort of lifelessness that rivals a morgue—but even a cadaver has a presence, and if one wants to they can imagine what sort of life that person might have led. Here, beyond the strangers, there aren't even corpses. Unless you're counting the empty shells of the buildings.

But even those don't feel quite right, and it's something she picked up on the moment she set foot into one of the apartments. As she had gone down the corridor, peeking into every door along the way, each of them gave off a sense of abandonment rather than welcome. As if the occupants had been spirited away rather than left. She can't help but wonder if the same fate is destined for everyone here now—and privately hopes they'll just be sent back to where they came from.

But she's also no fool, and also suspicious of the size and prominence of that cemetery.

Rounding the endcap, she tips one of the bags of chips into her cart on the way past, trying not to consider too much what they'll all do once the food runs out. For now, she's just pleasantly surprised that the meat and seafood seems well-stocked, although perhaps a little frustrated that there doesn't seem to be a butcher in sight. She hovers, instead, by the seemingly moot number dispenser, wondering whether she should even bother, or if this is like the conbini and the bowling alley and she should just invite herself behind the counter to pull out a pair of those pre-steamed crab legs sets. ]

Maybe it would just be easier to do fish or chicken...



FIRST AID

[ Stocking the fridge and tidying the rooms was easy. The apartments themselves don't seem particularly dirty, and what dust had settled wipes up easily and without anything curious or unpleasant beneath it. So, in the end, it hadn't really mattered which of the dozen she investigated ended up being the one she settled into, except that she wanted to ensure it was big enough for company. Not for parties (never for parties) but for the occasional visitor with an issue. She knows that, eventually, it would behoove her to put the word out that there is someone around with some knowledge of first aid (among other things) available for scrapes, cuts, bruises, or worse. But she's wary of the shared network and the things she's already been seeing posted on it, and isn't exactly keen to invite a lot of that into her personal space.

Ideally, then, none of it would happen in her own home, but that's going to be easier said than done. In addition to wandering her way towards the nearest grocer, she'd taken stock of the general surroundings of the apartment building. There is, thankfully, a nearby conbini for all her late-night alcohol cravings, along with what looks like the remains of a thrift store or consignment shop. But her sights, for now at least, are set on the unkempt pharmacy at the end of the block. The shelves are disorganized, but the stock seems well within expiry, and it would just need a bit of elbow grease to clean up the general ick of it. That would, however, also be an awful lot of work for one person who is admittedly more interested in administering care than self-care (or shop-care). So it's a dream that she sets aside for now, while also pilfering its messy shelves for first aid essentials—and some slightly above average quantities of things like antibiotics and pain killers.

It's a little uncouth but for now she stores it all in a dedicated kitchen cabinet—the gauze, the antiseptic, the surgeon's thread, and the medication alike. Neatly labeled and shelved, but altogether out of place in someone's home. She's lost in her thoughts of how to get the word out as she makes one final lap around the place. Around one wrist is a shopping bag heavy with plastic prescription pill containers, large boxes of assorted bandages, and various sizes and shapes of braces. At her feet is something she doesn't yet dare carry: a shrink-wrapped case of isopropyl alcohol, with a dozen, 20-oz. bottles all neatly packaged together. ]



OOC

i'm likely to add at least one other prompt after the event goes up i will not be adding additional prompts this month, but am still otherwise very open to random adventures around the city! if you want to do something but would like to brainstorm first, feel free to send me a PM.

Comments

GROCERY

[furibund]

[ Nebula's spent most of several days studying the area. There's simultaneously a fair number of places to study and not at all. The nondescript way this city seems to run itself in and the touches of some kind of omniscent being - like whatever is here was designed to be and whoever was here before vanished without a trace. Like a scheduled cleaning and one day, they'd probably follow suit.]

[ Stocking up on supplies had been first instinct. Finding a better place to make some kind of headquarters second, especially now with Peter (and Gamora, she knows he's quietly hoping for the day she'll join them - she can't say she isn't either). For as much as this place seems to have an anti-weapon policy, the fact normal knives, bats, crowbars and anything in between can be found is alarming. Like they don't expect people to get creative and figure out how to bludgeon, stab, or worse someone. She wonders how many are like her, trained and sharpened to be nothing but a tool for killing. ]

[ If there were more - and she doesn't doubt there aren't - then what did they expect to happen in this quiet, eerie city? ]

[ It's a thought always on the corner of her mind during these investigations. Today was less of an investigation and more actual gathering supplies - for the stupidly small stupid apartment Quill insisted they share. They needed a better one, that was already determined, but if she has to eat his tastless pasta attempts one more time she might just decide to do something about it. So she's there, gathering meat to cook on a grill, when she spots another woman just... Stopping and watching something. She doesn't have much experience with Terran butchers, numbers, or anything in between but she does get the sensation she's looking for something... and it's about food. Finally, she offers: ]

If you don't break anything, you can go back there freely.

[quitsmoking]

[ It's perhaps only slightly embarrassing, the nonchalant way Shoko has been treating all of this almost like business as usual. It's a city; she's here for some indeterminant amount of time; she needs to be stocking up, establishing some sort of routine, and otherwise rolling with the proverbial punches while she waits for some sort of exit to make itself known. If she doesn't, she's likely to spiral—and that's something she's far less prepared for.

Still, it's only her second day here, and after cautiously "moving in" to one of the seemingly abandoned apartments, she's hardly used to the lay of the land. Just as when she'd arrived, there's an inclination—distinctly Japanese or otherwise—to wait her turn. It's why, despite already catching on to the way things seem to work here, she hesitates at ever counter, still half-expecting a warm welcome and a familiar butcher's apron to greet her and ask what she's looking for.

Instead, just like in that train station, she's approached by someone who clearly seems to be more inhabitant than employee, and utterly unlike anyone she's ever met before, even on the streets of Shibuya. Her heart is more startled than her expression, mostly from the suddenness of the approach, as any instinctual fear that the stranger might be a Curse is quelled by the tone of her voice.

Curses can be clever, but they rarely speak. ]

It still feels a bit strange. To just take things.

[ Shoko shifts her grip on her cart, gaze gliding between the stranger and the display case. Yes, she has a pile of "essentials" in her cart (beyond the ramen there are toiletries, cleaning products, and other things to make a house a home), but she hasn't yet spared a thought to even the checkout. ]

I've never seen an unmanned grocery store before. [ A pause, and then— ] What happens if you break something?

[furibund]

Get used to it.

[ Nebula's answer is said simply, not unkindly but still gruff. She wonders if there would have been a time she felt the same. Thieving isn't what the Guardians do these days, but she'd not been above it so long ago. That's why she'd got imprisoned on Sovereign anyway. ]

[ She gives a slight incline of her head. ]

If you have to think of a payment, consider the fact you're trapped here as reason enough to take what you need.

[ The question earns a shrug, a 'what can you do about it' gesture: ] If the city thinks you're causing damage, you get punished. Haven't experienced it myself.

[quitsmoking]

[ Regardless of intent, it doesn't translate well between them, if only because Japan is a place that values an almost obsequious level of politeness between strangers. Though she is no stranger to bluntness between friends, Shoko's brow furrows a little, and she only nods, lightly, in response to the further clarification. Her gaze lingers a little over the case once more before panning right, towards the swinging double doors that lead to the kitchen. She isn't exactly bracing herself, but she does linger long enough for the answer to her question. ]

Punishment is reasonable enough. Does that mean there are police around?

[ She very much doubts this, if only because the few people she has run into have been far between—and, ironically, mostly people she knows—but she can't imagine an alternative to how punishments would be metered out. This time, she doesn't stay still to wait for that answer, instead leaving her cart just before the display before pushing through those doors. She emerges behind the counter shortly, barely a head taller than it, and reaches in to get her crab legs—and anything the blunt stranger may need as well. ]

[furibund]

[ Nebula snorts. ]

Not unless you were one in your life before.

[ Which somehow she doubts, but what would she know? Either way, none of it mattered in the moment. Whatever their jobs, homes, and lifestyle was before the only thing they had now is this. And she hastens to call it anything like a life, it feels more like a purgatory. Trapped in endless nothingness, the same things to do every day. ]

[ While she has no need for the food over the counter she stays to shake her head just shortly: ]

The only ones that have a presence here are those of us trapped here. Whoever is doing the punishing doesn't deem to show themselves. For all intents and purposes, they're ghosts.

[quitsmoking]

[ It isn't that the presumed absence of law enforcement—or even the presumed presence of something invisible and far more sinister—makes Shoko nervous in any way. In a lot of ways, jujutsu sorcerers exist just outside of the usual laws and regulations of the human world, and they tend to meter out their own justice.

No, oddly, and privately, it's the suggestion of ghosts that unsettles her, and the way it conjures a fear of something she's been ignoring these last few days. Here, the energy is different. Less oppressive. Emptier. Nothing feels haunted here in the way it normally should in a city this large. Is it because there is no cursed energy left lingering? Or is it because, as she worries, she can no longer sense it the way she once could? ]

How often are people being punished? [ Asked as she, perhaps too carefully, lays a modest spread of seafood atop the display case, so that she can retrieve them on the other side. And then, another question: ] How long have you been trapped here?

[furibund]

Enough for them to notice.

[ She hasn't been punished, at least. If only because the reasons for punishment are of no interest to her — the things they need aren't even considered theft. For as much bad as her past has in it, she's no thief and has no interest in breaking into another's home or vandalism. Unless it was necessary. That's a different story. ]

[ But there's nothing worth any of that here even if she did propose blowing up a building. ]

Not long. I guess it's getting closer to a couple of weeks. But you pay attention to the communication devices, they're real quick to give away whatever they learn.

first aid

[strongroots]

[ Honestly, Robby knows what he wants and doesn't when he comes to the pharmacy. There's a few items he should pick up, the essentials that any cabinet should be stocked with; but there's others he wants to look into, to see if they might even exist. ...and that he has no clue what to look for. He's hoping on labels to help him get some idea of the range of medication available.

What he has to deal with is the apparent presence of another--a fact that makes him pause soon after entering, noticing, the opening and closing of the door announcing his own presence. It's not anything about the woman in particular that makes him stop; but sometimes, you can spot a person or two along your way, or you don't see any sign of life for long enough that it surprises you when you do.

It's not a long pause for that reason alone, but then he notices what she's gathering, or the amount. He might keep his thoughts to himself, usually, but considering what's come up on the network: ]

People running another experiment again?

[ Gauze doesn't help with dying experiments, but his mind goes there anyway, the question asked hesitantly. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ Shoko looks up, briefly, when the door chimes and another person enters, with all the urgency of an underpaid cashier. This is the first younger person she's seen, and it gives her a strange pang in her chest, a thump of worry and wondering about all the students left behind while she's stuck here making do. He doesn't look much older than them, and in about the same shape as she's so accustomed to seeing them, especially of late. Of course, she rarely sees anyone in peak form, so maybe it's a hint at some other, lingering curse laid on her when she wasn't paying any attention.

As she's comparing coldpacks, the very last thing she expects is to be spoken to. For the most part, the adults have been cordial and generally helpful, but in her experience teens are wary and keep to themselves—save that one. And while the question surprises her simply for being asked, the nature of the question is what actually gets her to respond. ]

I'm just stocking my pantry. What sort of "experiments" are happening around here?

[ Suddenly, she can't deny feeling as if she is in a fishbowl. The irony of being taken one from experiment to potentially be dumped into another feels like she's swallowed lead weights. ]

[strongroots]

[ She doesn't know, or experiments are a stupid word for a stupid set of actions. Still, Robby looks at her for a second, then looks away; keeps his eyes off and an air of (attempted) indifference as: ]

Seeing what happens when you murder someone. Dunno, maybe they'll figure out how that one person got cuffed. See what gets the guys' behind this's attention.

[ Standing and looking off is just weird, however, Robby knows, and he leads his feet to the end of the aisle the woman is on, looking at what's on the shelving at the tip of it. Throat lozenges, nothing useful, but he takes hold of a pack anyway, tests its weight a little in his hand. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ Her faces pales. It's reactive and, honestly, a rare one for her to have considering all she's seen. Perhaps it's because it's too reminiscent of the mess she'd been plucked from before ending up here—and maybe she fears a little that it's just the same thing happening in a new place, to a new group of people. Is this just some unfamiliar ward in Tokyo after all? ]

What did they do with the body?

[ It's an unusual follow-up, to be sure, at least when asked of a stranger. But it might answer some questions she has about where they are and what she can do. And, perhaps, she might be able to prove herself at least a little useful, even if it's only in getting something as foolish as "murder experiments" to stop. ]

Or is that what you're here for? If it's already over, this might not be the best place to look.

[strongroots]

[ At least the way the question is asked is something--it's not indifferent, not as it could be with some of the personalities that seem to be around the city--but it's not one that an everyday person is really prepared for. Not Robby, whose expression twists a little, a grimace mixed with uncertainty. ]

No..., [ he starts slowly; because no, of course he knows this isn't the best place to look, ] I don't know what happened. You should look on the network. [ Is there anything on there? Robby doesn't know, doesn't care. ] They did it 'cause the person's supposed to show up on the train the next day. Someone tried killing someone before, 'cept they didn't remember it and then the person wasn't even dead.

[ And it's as uncomfortable, where Robby doesn't really look at the woman, his brows lowered and the incredulity of the situation evident in his voice. And yet, that's the state of affair for all of them here--nothing going on here should be possible. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ The Network. Truthfully, a thing she's been keen to avoid for several reasons, and only even more so now that it seems like that's the kind of information that's being passed through it, unmoderated. On the one hand, it would probably be better if she tried to at least know where things like that were going to happen, a sort of guilt tugging at her to be available, since she doesn't have a clue how many other physicians might even exist here.

On the other hand, doesn't she deserve a break from it all, even for just a little while?

Her self-care aside, it's clear enough that her questions seem to have made her companion at least a little uncomfortable, though he at least provides a little more insight despite that. ]

That doesn't sound like anything good to get involved in. [ Who is she to be giving some unfamiliar teenager advice? Someone who's seen too many of them die for stupid, unfair reasons because of someone else's stupid, unfair assignments. ] Or like anything worth exploring, if the idea is to get home in one piece.

[ She abandons the cold packs for now, and finally fully turns to look him over, one hand on her hip, pushing back a jacket she half-wishes was her white coat. Another thing left behind. ]

So what is it you're looking for today, then? Coming down with a cold? [ She gestures with her chin at the lozenges in his hand. ]

grocery

[indwelt]

[ He doesn't usually make it a habit of interrupting the quiet thought processes of others, but they're all trapped together in this city with nowhere else to go, which means any single person here is more likely to be an ally (willing or otherwise) instead of a complete stranger he'll likely never see again.

She doesn't seem hostile in any case, her body language more curious than defensive. Maybe things will change once he intervenes but for now he's willing to take the risk. He steps forward, an easy smile on his face. ]

Do you need help getting anything? I can go behind the counter and package your food, if that'll make you feel better.

[ It must be strange, having a completely stocked but entirely unmanned city just sitting around. There's a simple plastic bag slung around one of his wrists; inside are a few bottles of water and three plastic-wrapped sandwiches. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ At first, she nearly says yes, but at least has the sense to pause, turn, and evaluate the speaker before accepting the offer. The man she sees certainly doesn't look like an employee, and the modifier if that'll make you feel better registers quiet suddenly as a vaguely sheepish expression takes over. She should know better; unmanned stores aren't unheard of in Tokyo, but they're hardly as commonplace as they seem to be here. ]

Still adjusting. [ Offered with a smile, though it's somewhat wan as the embarrassment fades. ] I don't mind getting it on my own...it's just the principal of it.

[ There's a certain need to demonstrate her fearlessness, then, probably some hold over from her childhood, some awful trait rubbed off on her by people she'd been amazed to run into here. Instead of accepting the stranger's offer, she releases her cart and its various household staples, and approaches the swinging doors beside the counter. ]

You look like you're all done here [ a nod toward his bag ] but do you need anything?

[indwelt]

[ If this were an ordinary store and this any other ordinary interaction, he'd shake his head and be on his way, having already (metaphorically) paid in his mind. But there are no such explicit rules here and if he were to suddenly walk back in a minute later to grab something off the shelf it would be perfectly acceptable.

He pivots on one foot, head tilting as he peers down at the various offerings still warm behind the display. Familiar enough foods, though not ones he's had much chance to partake of in recent years. The woes of spending most of his life in Europe, and then a good chunk of it as a floating consciousness.

Another few seconds pass by as he thinks, then: ]

Which one's your favorite? I'll have some of that.

[quitsmoking]

[ Without further hesitation, but certainly with a gently amused smile, she disappears behind the swinging doors. The back room is much larger than she'd expected, and she can't help noticing the way there isn't as much difference between a kitchen and an examination room as there probably should be. Cool tile, cold steel, sharp edges and the smell of clean (and meat). Her heels click along the flooring to find her way to the wide display case, where she emerges, just visible over the top of it.

She takes her crab legs first, two packages for the freeze and fridge in the apartment she's claimed. ]

Would you mind adding these to mine? [ Asked as she slides them over the top of the case. They'll wait there (hopefully) if he declines to help, but either way she goes in to grab another pair of the sets for the stranger as well. ]

I wouldn't say they're necessarily a favorite, but they make instant ramen a little more interesting. And it's nice that they're pre-cooked.

[indwelt]

Not a problem.

[ There's nowhere else for him to be in this city devoid of work and other obligations. He may as well linger in this small convenience store and get to know yet another one of this fellow citizens. (Fellow prisoners, a small part of his mind thinks, but he chases it away. He's always preferred to think positive, even when the odds are against him.)

The initial batch of crab legs gets placed carefully alongside the rest of her goods, Welt nodding along absentmindedly as she offers up her suggestions. Not a bad idea, to have an easy source of protein to add. Life aboard the Express and its easy-access buffet car has left him without a real need to cook for himself. ]

I'll keep that in mind. If you don't mind me asking, are you from Japan then? [ With the mention of instant ramen. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ She pauses at the question, hiding a small, snort of a laugh as she turns to survey the other fish, since she's there. Shellfish on crushed ice, pre-cut filets, and an unfortunate absence of anything that looks as fresh as she's used to. But maybe that is just because she's spoiled back home, in a way she'd taken for granted. ]

I am. [ And suddenly, she realizes, that he can understand her without issue—and she him, though he hardly seems like he's from Tokyo himself. She holds that thought as carefully as if it were a glass ball in her hand as she hurries back around to the front of the case, though she doesn't voice it when they're standing together again. ]

Have you visited before? Japan. Not here. [ Offered with a sly smile, perhaps equal parts empathetic, apologetic, and worried that they're now both unwitting visitors here. ]

first aid

[miyagimagic]

[ Though Daniel has been here for a little while now, he hasn't found his injuries have healed all that much yet. It's a little bit easier to walk than it was during his first few days here, but that's just about all he can say for his current state. The bruising on his face is still just as present as it was at the start of his stay here, though the deep red and blue has started to discolour to yellow, and his voice still hasn't returned.

Not to mention the pain keeps bothering him. It's that fact that continues to bring him around town to look for pain killers - and while seeing other people trying to grab first aid items isn't too uncommon in this place, considering everyone who showed up here seems a little confused and often a little worried, it's not often that Daniel sees anyone with the sheer quantity of them as Shoko seems to have taken.

It makes his gaze linger on her, then it drops to what's standing at her feet, and he slowly makes his way over to her.

(It's always a little worrisome, figuring out who you can or can't trust in this place, but-- on the other hand, being alone is also miserable, especially when you're in pain like Daniel.)

Granted, he's aware he kind of looks like a wreck, but he hopes the woman will forgive him for it. And it's not like he can speak up to her with his throat still being a wreck as well, so Daniel instead grabs his phone from his pocket, typing in something on the device that a robotic-sounding voice reads out loud. ]

You also came for the pharmacy items?

[ At least Daniel's reason for wanting those is pretty clear, considering it's quite literally written across his face with the bruise still covering the entire side of his face. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ She's unfazed by the entry of another person. They may be few and far between, but every new person she meets is both comfort and curse—they maybe all be trapped here, but at least they're together. But there is an inexplicable sort of stiffness that overtakes her (not fear, but something close to it) as the stranger seems to make a beeline to her. Of course, the moment she gets a good look at his face, she understands why, especially with the amount of supplies she's carrying. It's not quite the announcement she's been brooding on, but she is, at least, glad to know she looks approachable.

Of course, she hesitates when he doesn't speak, instead tapping away at his phone until the impersonal monotone of a text-to-speech application asks a somewhat obvious question. She decides to read into it a little. ]

Better to stock up while they're plentiful. [ She sets the bag of braces down, turning from the pegboard shelf of them to better face Daniel. Her eyes are clearly scanning his injury, evaluating the spread of the bruise and the progress of its healing, observing his neck for any signs of trauma, and dipping even further to look over his hands, as well. It's probably an awkward few minutes of silence, her brow furrowed and mouth pressed thin—could this have all happened here? She knows that there are some who have been hear for near a month already, but so far no one she's met has seemed violent.

Although, violence is bound to happen among confused strangers. ]

My name is Shoko. [ She lifts her hands, palms open. ] If it's all right with you, I might be able to help that bruise a little. And anything else that might hurt.

[miyagimagic]

[ It's hard to not notice the way her eyes are scanning him, honestly. Maybe it's the fact that there's a part of him that's so self-conscious about his current state, but he definitely notices when people's eyes linger on the bruise on his face for a moment - and this is more than just a moment.

Daniel doesn't tell her off for it, since he does get that it stands out. It's why he doesn't get angry, but instead-- embarrassed, maybe, if the way he avoids her gaze is any indication. Ashamed of what he's like right now.

He only actually looks Shoko in the face again when she arrives at that last point of order. The shame still hasn't fully faded, lingering mostly in his eyes, but there's a hint of surprise there too.

The man only stares a moment, though, before he's typing on his phone again. ]

Are you a doctor?

[ Granted, she could just be someone who knows first aid, but-- that's an awful lot of pharmaceutical supplies for just that. ]

[quitsmoking]

[ It's not a yes, so she respects that, hands still as a hint of amusement crosses her face. ]

I am. Unfortunately my license is back at my office, but I can open up a box of gloves if that will make you feel better.

[ From the look on his face, there actually is a part of her that feels a little guilty for having no way to prove what's she saying. She has her wallet, but her ID wouldn't be any help—and truly it's not as if she's accustomed to helping normal humans with her technique. Unless, of course, she's only assuming he's a human, not a sorcerer, though they are so much rarer outside of Japan.

She doesn't wait for him to type a response out, though, before circling around the aisle to head two over, to retrieve a box of medium size non-latex gloves and a bottle of hand sanitizer. She cleans her hands on the way back, and makes quick work of tearing open the box and stretching a pair over her hands. With a bit of playfulness (and perhaps a bit of eagerness) she waggles her fingers. ]

There's something I'd like to try first, like traditional, Eastern therapy, before we try more medicine, if that's all right with you. [ Assuming he has, of course, already tried compresses and pain medicine. ] It shouldn't hurt. At least not anymore than it probably already did.

[miyagimagic]

[ Well, at least she's being playful about it. It's not the sort of thing anyone might appreciate in a doctor, but.. anyone who doesn't act like Daniel looks as bad as he feels right now is pretty alright in Daniel's book. He already feels too bad about what caused these injuries in the first place to really be okay with enduring some people's gazes that only threaten to break his heart further.

Still, it's not like there's a laugh or anything of the sort in response to her antics. And not even just because Daniel is incapable of really making that sort of sound right now. His reaction is definitely kind of subdued - probably easily blamed on the fact that he doesn't exactly look like he's doing great.

He mostly just lets out a breath, momentarily ducks his head like he's trying to hide something or just trying to think, and then nods as he looks back over at her. ]

It's fine.

[ After all, the stuff mister Miyagi used to give him to help him when he was younger - that didn't really seem like the kind of medicine Daniel was used to either. He kind of regrets never having asked the man more about it, but that could have been traditional Eastern stuff too, right..? Remedies he must have taken with him from Okinawa.

So the idea of Shoko using anything like that here doesn't bother Daniel in the slightest.

Instead he seems to add: ]

Thank you. [ Because even if it's a little awkward to have attention drawn to his injuries, she wants to help him. It's a kind offer, and he'd feel bad if he didn't at least show polite gratitude in turn. ] Just tell me what to do. I will listen.

[ She's the professional here, after all. Daniel isn't going to question her. ]

[quitsmoking]

You just need to hold still for a minute.

[ She can't remember the last time she'd tried this on a non-sorcerer—probably years, honestly, especially with how things have been going in the last few months. Still, she privately commends him for not looking nearly as apprehensive as he probably could, even as her slightly chilly hands reach directly for that yellow-blue bruise around his eye. ]

So what's your name? And have you always used your phone to speak like that, or do you have a throat injury to match this one?

[ It's less small talk and all diagnostic, as her fingertips line up around the curve of his most notable injury. She concentrates, half-listening for that robotic response while the rest of her channels energy—cursed energy, which she isn't about to even begin trying to explain to her patient, yet which, since waking up, she feels in abundance within herself if not so much in the world around her.

And the not explaining makes it easier to hide her worry, brow seemingly furrowed with focus instead of quiet concern that the channel seems throttled. The exchange is working, to a degree, but it's by no means as effortless as she's been so accustomed to all her life. Her confidence wavers, then, from believing he'd walk out of here injury-free, to hoping she'll at least be able to reduce the poor appearance.

For his part, he likely won't notice anything outright. No change in temperature or noticeable pressure. But, with luck, any lingering pain should reduce to nothing, and the tenderness with it—even if, as it turns out, she really can't do a whole lot to improve the discoloration. That will have to fade on its own, and her disappointed realization unfortunately shows quite plainly as her hands pull away a few minutes later. She's not about to quit, but it does feel like any other injuries he has her look at and work on will prove to be some sort of test of skill she's hardly prepared for. ]