wearingthestars | TRP Inbox

We can do it in person if you like.
Hospital is probably best, but if you'd rather I come to you I can?

Don't have somewhere sterile enough for what I need.
Plus, you don't need to know where I live.
I'll come to you.
Be there in 30.

[lol, Billy, who was only planning to talk about the issue, certainly not start any surgery out in the wild, and who locate Dustin easily with a spell, chooses not to comment on this.]

See you then!

[Probably for the best that he doesn't.]

[Regardless, his message meets approximately thirty-five minutes of radio silence before the main entrance to the Hospital opens and Dustin very cautiously wanders inside. He looks...actually really terrible, and that's saying a lot, because he's always lowkey fidgety and uncomfortable even on his good days. His already pale complexion is downright pallid, eyes unfocused and jittery in spite of how they swivel around to anxiously take in the Hospital landing, and he's holding his right arm a bit awkwardly across his midriff like he's trying to guard it. Everything about his appearance announces that he's in a nontrivial amount of pain.]

[Not a good time to let that distract him, though - one of the other Hospital residents could be lurking to meet prospective victims at the front door instead, so Dustin remains on-guard. He has, of course, not brought his communications device with him to let Billy know that he's arrived.]

[Knowing he would have company soon, Billy made his way to the entrance area not long after the last message, busing himself with work, and checking in every so often. He was checking his device as he wanders out this time, making sure he hasn't received any messages, when he spies someone standing uncertainly in the landing and offers a wave as he approaches.]

Dustin?

[Billy looks (naturally) a lot like Tommy, with some colour swapping, and a bit younger now with the strange way this place works, but it's clear this is Tommy's twin even if he carries himself quite differently.]

Hey, I'm Billy.

[Dustin visibly flinches at the sound of his name. He really ought to have been expecting Billy to wait for him, but his mind was fixed on other, much less likely things, so he still manages to be caught off-guard. His eyes flicker, focus, and narrow in on Billy in an instant.]

Yeah, I know.

[Similarities to Tommy aside, Dustin's long since memorized everyone's portraits from the "Dictionary;" he couldn't forget Billy's face if he wanted to. He stands stock-still and wary as he's approached. No return wave, no smile, no acknowledgement that Billy's found the right person.]

Somewhere private we can talk?

[Billy's a little thrown by the response, but it does enough to cement this as the same person from the network. He flushes a little, feeling awkward, but nods, gesturing to a nearby door way and going inside first in case Dustin was afraid it was booby trapped in some manner.]

You really don't like doctors, huh?

[At least Billy seems willing to humor his more paranoid tendencies. Dustin takes one last anxious glance around the entryway before shuffling after him, his posture rigid.]

No.

[Is he going to elaborate? Also no.

[Dustin steps inside the room, looks over it once, then quietly closes the door behind him and leans his back against one of the side walls. His whole demeanor shifts in an instant; he'd been trying not to look too uncomfortable on the long walk here so that no one would be tempted to flag him down and ask Questions, but now that he's somewhere private with his intended audience, that's not so much of a concern. Dustin deflates with a shuddering breath, his expression twisting into something pained and deeply embarrassed.]

...Think I fucked up, a little.

[Billy's expression twists with concern, and he has to consciously keep himself from crowding in to check on him. He's only just managed to get him here, if he scares him off now he might never trust any of the doctors here to help him.]

Fucked up how? Here, sit down. Tell me what's wrong. How can I help? What do you need?

[That's a lot of questions. Immediately overwhelmed by Billy's outpouring of concern, all filters come off and Dustin launches into a ramble. He does not sit down.]

I-I--Listen. I found this--I mean, okay, I didn't find it, it just--showed up, in my workshop. Which is suspicious as fuck, right? But I--I can tell that I made it. I just. Don't remember doing it?

[Dustin sweeps a hand into his hair - the one not still cradled in front of him, anyway.]

Not important. Uh--so it needs a power source, and I did some calculations and reverse-engineering and it's--I'm the power source. It just needed some connections, so I made those, and I--I installed one, but-- [He unconsciously reaches down to grip at his forearm.] --fuck, it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. I think something's wrong.

You- wait you don't-

[Billy tries his best to follow what Dustin's saying.]

You installed something? In your- uh- [His eyes flick down to Dustin's forearm and frowns, trying to give a reassuring nod.] I can help, I just- are you um- cybernetic, or am I misunderstanding? I just want to make sure I know what I'm doing.

No. I mean--not technically. It's more of an...interface thing.

[Dustin's gaze follows Billy's, then he looks away with a quick breath.]

--Here, I'll just, um--

[He did say it would be easier to show him, didn't he? Plus, this might keep Billy from asking any more specific questions about the nature of his abilities - a topic that Dustin would still like to avoid, although they've already kind of toed over that line at this point in the conversation.

[Dustin steps away from the wall so he can wriggle out of his coat, draping it over the most convenient surface available before (finally) finding a place to sit down. His right arm looks lumpy even under the several layers of sweaters he's wearing, and when he gingerly rolls up the series of sleeves overtop, the reason becomes obvious: The middle of his thin forearm is wrapped tight in gauze and stuffed with padding. Dark, dried blood stains the top of it.]

Wanted to change the bandages before I got here, but I, ah. Ran out.

[It doesn't do a whole lot to help clarify the why of it all, but the blood is definitely enough to have Billy moving forward with concern.]

You did this yourself? [He winces a little at the idea.] Can I clean it up for you at least? Let me grab some pain killers first actually, that should help. [He moves to gather some supplies to clean and bandage, as well as some pills, a bit flustered but doing his best to keep calm for the both of them.]

[Dustin nods, wincing back at him. He doesn't really want to think about it, either, although the memory is fresh in his mind, and probably still would be even if he didn't have perfect recall. Easily in his top five worst experiences - bad enough that he'd downed one of his precious Eorzean health potions to try and handle the pain. It had worked, temporarily. But he couldn't rationalize using the last one on just pushing back that threshold for another half a day. It's a lot of the reason why he's here.

[The offer for alternative painkillers is, therefore, not something he'll argue against.]

Maybe...maybe I just didn't clean it well. [He doesn't sound convinced. Hesitantly, hands shaking, Dustin starts unwrapping his old bandages.] Even if this one heals right, I--there's all the other points. Connections. I can't reach the ones on my back.

We'll start with these, okay? And then if you need something stronger we can do that. Do you have any allergies I should know about or anything?

[Billy holds off on handing him the pills and a glass of water until he gets confirmation. Of curse, he could just use a spell, but apart from so many people being nervous about the magic, he's learned that pain is a good indicator, as much as he wants to take it away. If he dulls it too quick, he might miss something important.

He takes over removing the bandages, trying to be gentle. He's put on gloves at some point while he was gathering his supplies, and he frowns faintly at the implication that Dustin had only been stopped from more self surgery by the fact that he couldn't reach.]

What did you use to do this?

No allergies--can't have any.

[He does not elaborate. Dustin hesitates only a moment to glance over the pills, trying to identify what kind of painkillers he's about to shove in his mouth, but gives up on it a moment later. Paranoia sways in the face of relief from the persistent, steadily worsening throbbing pain in his arm - plus, even Dustin's terrible perception when it comes to people is still enough to notice that Billy looks about as anxious as he feels. If the guy is acting to get Dustin to let his guard down, he's doing a spectacular job of it.

[He doesn't waste any extra time; Dustin snatches away the pills, pops them, then grabs the cup of water like he's going to chug it but only manages a few, grimacing sips before placing it down on the counter next to him. Too nauseous.

[Billy finishes unwrapping the bandages. Centered on the top of Dustin's lower arm, surrounded by puffy swelling and spatters of blood, is a circle of smooth, brushed metal, about an inch in diameter and slightly domed in the center. There's definitely more going on under the surface to be causing this level of irritation, but it's also not obviously infected, and it does seem to be healing. All signs point to this being standard post-op discomfort - "standard," anyway, if the operation in question was done with a dull knife, one-handed, by someone who has never performed surgery before. Which--]

Ah. [Dustin pointedly looks away from his uncovered forearm, turning a little green.] Knife. Sterilized.

[--is apparently exactly what happened.]

[Billy gives a curious hum, not having seen anything like this before, and he gently guides Dustin's arm as he wipes it clean and sterilizes it. There doesn't seem to be much more he can do with his limited knowledge of both surgery and technology.]

We might want to talk to Omega as well. She deals with droids and more mechanically inclined things than I do. She might be able to offer insight the Doctor and I can't.

[He applies some topical that should ease the pain and swelling a bit, and begins to rebandage him.]

Shit. Okay, um- so 1. please don't ever do surgery on yourself again, for starters, but 2. a knife isn't the same as scalpel. It's going to do a lot more damage, and make the pain a lot worse. What kind of knife are we talking?

[Dustin perks up slightly; he hadn't considered that Omega was the technical type, although in retrospect, she had been awfully interested in poking around his workshop when she visited. Had he known, he might have actually asked for her advice first. Maybe he'll still follow up with her after this.

[He hisses and winces, first from the burn of antiseptic, then from the numbing cold of the topical analgesic that follows. But when that's chased by the soothing pressure and warmth of fresh bandages, Dustin's curiosity overwhelms his turning stomach and he glances back, blinking in surprise.]

Y-You don't think--?

[--No, obviously he doesn't think anything's wrong with the wound, otherwise he wouldn't be wrapping it back up. Dustin aborts the question. A moment later, once Billy tells him everything wrong with the situation rather than the outcome, his mouth clicks shut and his gaze flicks to the floor.]

I sharpened it. [His tone is indignant, but weakly so. He knows how this looks. Probably obvious, from the fact that he doesn't directly answer Billy's question.] ...Didn't have a choice.

[What should he have done here - asked one of the several residents with Medical for help? Don't be ridiculous.]

[Billy gives him a look, but his gaze softens soon after.] ...well, now you have some more choices available to you.

[He finishes bandaging, and finally answers that question Dustin didn't quite finish] I can't see anything immediately wrong apart from your body body trying to heal, No infection that I can see, but we should do some blood work, and keep an eye on it still. I would still suggest you talk to the others here though, both to make sure I didn't miss anything, and to help you with...whatever it is you're trying to do to yourself. They should be able to save you a lot of pain. And uh...if they check you out, and say it's okay- I can do some magic pain management it's that bad. But I want to hold off on that until they look at you so they don't miss anything. How's that sound?

[Dustin sits in sulky silence for a bit. The combination of topical and painkillers is helping him relax, incrementally, and consequently the pain-induced fog in his brain is starting to clear. Nothing Billy is suggesting is inherently unreasonable; Dustin lacks the facilities to do a proper blood panel to see how he's handling the new implant, and getting a second opinion from someone that knows more about medicine in general is definitely a good idea. He can't even deny that he prefers the concept of magical pain management - anything that sounds like a way to circumvent traditional drug usage is a boon in Dustin's books.

[But none of that stops him from still feeling very anxious about all of this.

[His eyes flick back up, some of that earlier suspicion returning in his narrowed expression.]

Several conditions.

[Dustin holds up his other hand to count off on his fingers.]

One: Standard tests only for bloodwork, and I take the samples back immediately after results are collected.

[That won't completely negate any of the weirdness that would come of of, say, a white blood cell count or mineral analysis, but it should stop someone like Tae from having the resources to investigate further. Probably.]

Two: I'm allowed to leave at any time.

[Self-explanatory.]

Three: You explain to me how your magic works.

[If it's just Magic Drugs instead of Regular Drugs, he's out.]

Doctor Takemi does most of the bloodwork around here, I'm still learning, but I assume she'd be all right with that? We can ask her before we do anything at least.

[Billy's lips quirk a little, but he nods.]

You can always leave at any point. No one's going to tie you down.

[That last one though...Billy looks a little unsure. Mostly because it's not really easy to explain.]

It's uh...well, it basically works through desire fuel chaos magic. So I want you to feel less pain [He covers his ears when he says the phrase, just in case it acts as an unconscious spell.] I use a spell to help focus that want, and reality...re-writes itself.

[Dustin frowns slightly. Of course Tae would be in control of the bloodwork - that's an excellent avenue for her to steal information from people without them realizing it. Well, as long as Billy is there to vouch for him, and as long as he recognizes that Dustin can deny either of their demands and leave without paying for services already rendered, he supposes that's a risk he's willing to take.

[The description of Billy's magic makes that frown deepen, although not in consternation this time. He looks genuinely pensive, head tilting to the side, eyes flickering for a moment to consider possible explanations.]

...A sort of directed entropy control? [As good of an explanation as any. Also, incredibly powerful and dangerous. There's a moment where Dustin's heart sinks at the idea of Billy turning that power on him, but it's quickly replaced by surprise - if he wanted to, it would have already happened, wouldn't it? Like a spell-enforced honor system. Lying while connected to intent-based magic sounds like it would be incredibly difficult. Unless his intent was to lie and make everyone believe him, in which case--

[--He's going too far down the rabbit hole on this one, isn't he? Dustin sniffs and shakes his head, abruptly hefting himself out of the chair.]

Fine. Is she here?

[He'd prefer not to make multiple trips to this place if he can help it. If it wasn't abundantly clear already, hospitals make him nervous.]

[Billy honestly doesn't know. Chaos magic is confusing, and he's only studied a small bit himself compared to other spell casters who aren't their own magical power source.]

I think so, I can check if you want to relax or- [Oh, no, he's all ready up. Well then.] Or we can both look?

[Nope, no relaxing allowed, even if Dustin is moving past the point of "pleasantly numb" to "my fingers feel funny and so does my face" on the Recently Ingested Painkillers progression scale (which sneaks up on him pretty quickly, considering his rapid metabolism). His knees wobble a little as he doggedly walks towards the door and fumbles with his coat.]

I'll come with you. [Just inviting himself to that excursion, thanks.] She have an office or something around here?

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CW: blood and other post-op injury descriptions from here onward

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