snowblindrpg | [log] If Looks Could Kill (You Would Be Dead) [closed]

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[log] If Looks Could Kill (You Would Be Dead) [closed]

Characters: Doctors Strange and House
Location: Hospital (building 131)
Date: 197 (afternoon / evening)
Summary: Dr. Strange wants to find out what's going on with his cloak. Dr. House dies again.
Warnings: Dr. House is going to die. Again.

131: The hospital is eerie in its silence, and snow presses in against many of the windows, keeping much of it in sterile darkness. It still smells like a hospital; the antiseptic is fresh, and there isn't much dust. Someone must be cleaning it, and yet it's clear no one is here. The hospital is four stories high with one basement, all connected via the elevator lobby and staircase. Unfortunately, the wall of the elevator lobby has been torn open all the way down, exposing it to the bitter air outside. While you can explore and remain on most of the floors of the hospital at night, you cannot travel between them until it's daytime once more, as the lobby seals itself up at curfew. The staircase is its own separate enclosed area, but it too seals itself off from the lobby at night, so you'll be spending an uncomfortable night on the staircase if you get stuck there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's been a few days since Stephen saw anyone else in person, and despite the general familiarity of stepping back into a hospital he's not entirely thrilled to be here. A sweep of the building didn't turn up anything particularly nasty other than the way the morgue makes his skin crawl (natural fear? imposed? he's not sure), but it did turn up what he came here for: one compound microscope ready for action.

He doesn't have any particular reason to expect company, so when he sets out his things on the desk of the administrative office where he found the microscope, he indulges himself by pulling up the playlist he's been compiling from bits and pieces on the network. It's mostly Doctor House, of course, but he can live with that. The Cloak is cooperative today, lying limp across the desk as it allows him to examine its hem under magnification. He's progressed to looking at a loose thread now, and he's utterly engrossed as House's Rolling Stones medley plays on.]

[House has two new bottles of Vicodin for his collection, along with the knowledge that Brian has gotten them through to the next area when he arrives at the hospital. Plus, he has a guitar. These things should please him, but all he really feels is numb, lately. The situation has been getting worse since Wilson's death, even with the reprieve the guitar has brought and his general ability to put on a front coming back to the fore.

Tony and Davesprite have gotten a view of how fractured he's become, but-

But that's him playing the piano.

House is in the stairwell, heading down, when the music reaches his ears. He stops on the first floor, and sets down his pack and guitar in the stairwell, taking his wooden mallet with him as a weapon as he creeps toward the admin area. When he peeks in and sees Strange looking at his cloak under the microscope, he breathes a sigh of relief and positions himself in the doorway, overly casual as he drops the mallet head down and leans on it.]

All my greatest hits, Stevie?

[Stephen shifts at some small sound, but it's the cloak that reacts first, lifting its collar sharply from the desk as House makes his presence known. Stephen turns with only slightly less alacrity, hands raising into the starting position for a shield-summoning gesture before he sees who it is.

A momentarily held breath whooshes out of him and he lets himself relax again, on hand going to rest on the Cloak, silently communicating to it that it doesn't need to rip itself out from under the microscope and attack their visitor.]

Don't get too excited. You don't have all that much competition.

[House has something to say about Strange searching out his music and making a playlist, but his attention dials in on the cloak. It's moving. It's moving independent of any wind that would make it possible for it to be doing that.]

It's filled with nanomachines, isn't it?

[Because why the hell else would Strange be looking at a piece of fabric under the microscope?]

Yeah. Which raises some additional questions, frankly.

[He gazes at House a moment. Notes the mallet. Considers the fact that the man is, in general, a raging dickhole, and that he's almost certainly come here to kill himself and pretend it's for science.

But he's also a doctor, and one of the more analytical minds on the network. Stephen gives the Cloak a little pat, then scoots his chair aside.]

Come look at this.

[House glances sidelong at Strange for a moment, internal paranoia warring with curiosity. The curiosity wins out, of course, and he does move over, setting the mallet in a corner and stepping up to the scope. House peers through and his brows rise.]

Has your cloak ever bled when you ripped it before?

[Casual conversation from a casual guy.]

[The Cloak, for its part, remains draped across the desk, keeping its hem still like it was asked. Its collar turns to follow House's movements as he comes closer, as though it's watching him.]

Never ripped it. I'm not sure it can be ripped. I suspected something like this might have happened, so I asked the administrator for its blood type a few days ago. According to her, the question was "not applicable."

[House raises his brows and glances over at Stephen, mildly impressed.]

Interesting. Might be the same blue whatever that was inside Winter. Will it let you cut off that thread we're looking at to see if there's any liquid inside?

Like I said, I'm not sure it's a matter of letting me. It's a magical artifact; I don't think I could cut it if I wanted to.

[He kind of wants to, though.]

How magical are you feeling right now, Mr. Wizard?

[Stephen narrows his eyes at House, tilts his head. Then he twists his hands in midair, tendons tight and fingers curled as he draws his hands apart like he's physically pulling on the air itself. Two golden sparks -- no, three, better than last time, and it's sad that he thinks so -- pop into existence between his fingertips, sizzling out again as soon as they appear.]

I'm feeling just a little bit magical, Doctor House. But I take your point. You have anything sharp?

[That's momentarily very alarming, and House stiffens. But he relaxes after that, playing at nonchalance.]

I've seen more impressive glowsticks.

Wait here.

[He steps away, watching Strange warily, and not actually turning his back on the other man as he grabs his mallet and exits. House steps out of the Admin area to go and collect his things, setting his pack and guitar down near the door. He pulls a scalpel from his pack and stares at the blade for a long few seconds, letting his heart rate ramp up like it always does and getting his expression under control before stepping back in.]

Is it gonna hit me if I cut it? Or should you be doing this?

[His voice is tighter than it was before.]

Edited 2017-01-12 17:48 (UTC)

[Too late -- he saw that moment of honesty in the lines of House's posture (and the lines of his mauled face). Stephen quirks up the corner of his mouth and sits back, more satisfied than he should be to have elicited it.]

Go on.

[For his part, Stephen waits until House is out of the room before he turns to free the hem of the Cloak from the microscope, running his hands down its length with tenderness he probably wouldn't be eager to show in front of the other man. House is gone long enough for him to hold a murmured, one-sided conversation with it. He looks up when the other man reenters, eyes going to the blade.]

Yeah, it'll probably hit you. I should be the one to do it, anyway.

[There's a bit of a pause where House looks down and scans Steven's hand.]

Watch you feet.

[In case it drops. But he doesn't say that, and he doesn't comment beyond that. House turns it so the handle is facing Stephen.]

[Stephen's eyes narrow once more, but he doesn't make any reply. His hand is relatively steady as he reaches out to take it, but as ever the key word is relatively. As he reaches over to tap his tablet and stop the music:]

Give me some light.

[And then, to ~~Levi~~ the Cloak of Levitation as he lays his free hand on it.:]

You can still say no.

[The cloak lifts a fold to press against his hand before drawing itself up into a pile, collar perked like it's observing the proceedings. It pushes one edge of its hem at Stephen, offering him the loose thread from before, and he has to concede that it is, thankfully, a clear answer. For a second he thinks of asking Dr. House to do this after all, but he saw the state of the man's fingers when he handed over the scalpel -- this is no worse, and the cloak trusts Stephen to do it.

He lets out a long breath, letting his mind clear with it, and gets to work. There's a surgeon's care here, if not a surgeon's precision, and after a few false starts he finally puts a deep enough nick into the thread to cut it free to rest on the glass slide set out under it. Stephen takes in a sharp breath of surprise as light glints off of a tiny spot of clear fluid on the slide, and quickly sets the scalpel aside on the desk.]

Do you see that too?

[House is fully focused on what's going on as he pulls out his penlight and holds that on the cloak. He still wants to know how that damn thing is alive, but he suspects the answer is more of Strange's magic, and he doesn't want to hear it. The cloak is a dog. He's treating it like a fabric dog. Yep.

When Strange cuts the thing, House sees something fall onto the slide. He pulls out his reading glasses and leans down to examine it with the naked eye first.]

Get it under the scope. See if we can isolate any of the nanites before they disintegrate or something.

[Stephen tries to do just that without thinking about it, but his fingers catch wrong on the edges and the slide clinks back onto the desk, the liquid spreading across its surface and the thread rolling partway off. His jaw tightens and he draws in a sharp breath as he tries to force himself into steadiness.]

[The doctor frowns at his fellow.]

Move, if you can't do it, Strange.

[His jaw tightens for a second, but he doesn't reach for the slide again. Getting a look at it is more important than making some kind of point. Stephen shifts out of the way.]

If they've altered the structure of the cloak this much, it's possible the fluid serves a secondary purpose beyond a medium for the nanomachines.

[House's hands are only steadier by virtue of having to work through things like withdrawal tremors in the past. He gets the slide into the clamps and quickly adjusts the focus. It's only a moment before he can see the liquid, little specks of nanomachines floating around.]

Scalpel. [He holds out his hand to the side while still focusing on he microscope, wanting to manipulate and isolate the machines, if possible.] Find something we can use to hold isolated specimens.

[Stephen gives the scalpel a bemused look as he passes it over, briefly startled by the feeling of being on the wrong end of the medical pecking order. The feeling doesn't exactly pass as he leans down to dig through his bag for the still-wrapped syringe he found just earlier today. No needle, but that shouldn't matter here. He sets it next to the microscope.]

Unless you have something better.

[House's reading glasses are low on his nose when he glances over at the syringe, having moved them down to look into the microscope. He tilts his chin up to eye the thing through them and nods silently before returning his attention to the microscope.

It's a few minutes later that House makes a frustrated noise. But he doesn't give up. Stephen may want to get comfortable it's another 45 minutes of quiet focus, interrupted only by the gentle clink of the scalpel blade on the slide. The doctor will ignore Stephen and the cloak entirely, shuttering his senses to all but the task.]

I can't do it.

[It's time to admit defeat. For now.] I can't isolate them. I'm not gonna waste your syringe. When we have more specialized equipment for extraction, we can try this again. Haven't found a working centrifuge here... or any centrifuge, but it's the next best bet.

[Stephen watches with slowly waning interest; there's really not much to be said for watching someone else methodically nudging at a slide with a knife. After a few minutes he remembers to tend to his cloak, though thankfully there doesn't seem to be any ongoing "bleeding" from the little cut.

By the time House speaks again, Stephen has gotten on the network and done an update on the census. He minimizes the window before glancing up.]

You found a working microscope. Obviously Santa's going to bring us a centrifuge next.

[He makes a face and grabs the syringe to put it back in his bag.]

A little girl found a working microscope. I just enhanced it so we could see anything useful. Maybe if one of the kids go looking again...

[House leans back from the microscope and his hands are shaking. He crosses his arms to hide this and tiles his head up at the same time, looking thoughtful.]

You think it makes a difference who looks?

[He's not actually discounting the possibility that it might. It just seems a little too much like magical thinking for Dr. House.]

Where did she find it?

afternoon / early evening

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