Allison Cameron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
as_damaged) wrote2008-02-04 04:38 pm
as_damaged) wrote2008-02-04 04:38 pm
Entry tags:
☎ voicemail
| ☎ voicemail ☎ text message ☞ action |
[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]
[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Out of milk. Cat glaring.
Call Eden McCain. (http://suicideslowly.livejournal.com/7053.html?thread=1344397#t1344397)
[Your phone is ringing, Cameron. Pick up. Pick up.]
[Contrary to popular belief, Angela is a very patient woman. As long as she has a pencil and some sort of paper with her, she's fine with long waiting times, like the one today in the clinic. She expected to be in and out with a prescription for birth control in her hand, ready to finish the rest of her lunch hour with an actual lunch. Clearly, the crowd in the waiting room disagrees with that and they probably won't agree with any attempt made by Angela to use her hospital employee status to jump ahead in the line either.
Unfortunately, while Angela does have a pen stolen from the reception desk (she'll give it back, of course), all she has to draw on is a pamphlet about nutrition tips during pregnancy. No, thank you. She's here just so she won't need those tips anytime soon; give her a couple more years to prepare for her million child tribe. Hope the lady with the bulging tummy on the shiny cover likes the new mustache and princess crown that Angela's giving her.]
Unfortunately, while Angela does have a pen stolen from the reception desk (she'll give it back, of course), all she has to draw on is a pamphlet about nutrition tips during pregnancy. No, thank you. She's here just so she won't need those tips anytime soon; give her a couple more years to prepare for her million child tribe. Hope the lady with the bulging tummy on the shiny cover likes the new mustache and princess crown that Angela's giving her.]
[The phone rings once, and then stops.]
curse day, keep your windows shut.
Let's go for a drink. I'm tired of whiny customers trying to get over and you have nothing better to do, Vacation Girl.
[By Cameron's desk in the darkened clinic, a tricksy Australian ninja is trying to deposit what looks like the reap from a hit-and-run on a bakery. The plan is to ditch the loaves and escape unnoticed.
Then blame it on Eden.]
Then blame it on Eden.]
He realized he'd been putting this off for a while, perhaps because it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. He still wasn't sure it was a good idea, going to Cameron, but the other options didn't seem any better. He'd rather go to a doctor from his own world, because he knew them better; this was complicated only by the fact that he didn't want House to know about this. Somehow, he'd decided that he considered Cameron the most trustworthy in that regard. Admittedly, he was sure she cared about House more than she'd admit to, but he knew that she understood the value of keeping things from House as well as anyone.
Mostly, he didn't doubt that House could convince Chase to tell him anything with the right incentive. And Cuddy, well, if she hadn't left, Wilson was half-afraid that she'd decide to go tell House in some well-intentioned but misguided effort to show that he cared, an attempt to facilitate communication between them.
He was fine with making that kind of misguided effort himself, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea of having someone else compromise what little privacy he had left from House (which, with their living situation here, didn't amount to much) to set one of their own into motion. It was better to leave such things to those experienced in these battlefields.
He'd come to this conclusion some time ago, shortly after his return; he'd even mentioned it to her, albeit vaguely, and just hadn't acted on it. But the bottle he'd had with him was nearly empty... he didn't have any more time to put it off. He didn't plan to stay on them for long, but he wasn't prepared to go cold turkey, either. So he waited for an opportune moment to come up, and here it seemed to be; Cameron was alone in the clinic office, and not another soul - especially those belonging to House or Chase - was in sight. He stepped in quietly, lingering by the doorway.
"Cameron? Do you have a moment?"
Mostly, he didn't doubt that House could convince Chase to tell him anything with the right incentive. And Cuddy, well, if she hadn't left, Wilson was half-afraid that she'd decide to go tell House in some well-intentioned but misguided effort to show that he cared, an attempt to facilitate communication between them.
He was fine with making that kind of misguided effort himself, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea of having someone else compromise what little privacy he had left from House (which, with their living situation here, didn't amount to much) to set one of their own into motion. It was better to leave such things to those experienced in these battlefields.
He'd come to this conclusion some time ago, shortly after his return; he'd even mentioned it to her, albeit vaguely, and just hadn't acted on it. But the bottle he'd had with him was nearly empty... he didn't have any more time to put it off. He didn't plan to stay on them for long, but he wasn't prepared to go cold turkey, either. So he waited for an opportune moment to come up, and here it seemed to be; Cameron was alone in the clinic office, and not another soul - especially those belonging to House or Chase - was in sight. He stepped in quietly, lingering by the doorway.
"Cameron? Do you have a moment?"
Edited 2009-09-26 01:57 (UTC)
FWD:FW:FW: TO ALL ANIMAL LOVERS PLEASE HELP US SHUT DOWN THIS HORRIBLE SITE)
dr_conscience
2009-09-27 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
To anyone with love and respect for life: In New York there is a Japanese man who sells "bonsai-kittens." Sounds like fun huh? NOT! These animals are squeezed into a bottle. Their urine and feces are removed through probes. They feed them with a kind of tube. They feed them chemicals to keep their bones soft and flexible so the kittens grow into the shape of the bottle. The animals will stay their as long as they live. They can't walk or move or wash themselves. Bonsai-kittens are becoming a fashion in New York and Asia.
See this horror at: http://www.bonsaikitten.com
Please sign this email in protest against these tortures. If you receive an email with over 500 names, please send a copy to: anacheca@hotmail.com. From there this protest will be sent to USA and Mexican animal protection organizations.
See this horror at: http://www.bonsaikitten.com
Please sign this email in protest against these tortures. If you receive an email with over 500 names, please send a copy to: anacheca@hotmail.com. From there this protest will be sent to USA and Mexican animal protection organizations.
[Starts how these things always start: ring, ring.]
[Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.
Not quite the way Angela planned on spending this particular one, holed up in her office because one co-worker decided to be a no-call/no-show. Not that she wanted to spend it as some monster truck rally either, but she had other things she wanted to do today. The only bright spot of having to work on a weekend is that Angela isn't nursing a hangover from wild Saturday night. Thank God for small favors.
Her luck doesn't last for long before she gets called down to the clinic for tech support because, as her supervisor says, she's the only one around to do it. It's her job and she knows how to handle the responsibility that pays her rent, but that doesn't mean Angela can't grumble her way to office, computer equipment in tow. Art school didn't prepare her for this.
With a knock on the door, she pokes her head into the clinic that's rather empty for a weekend.]
Yoohoo. Anybody home? Tech support calling!
Not quite the way Angela planned on spending this particular one, holed up in her office because one co-worker decided to be a no-call/no-show. Not that she wanted to spend it as some monster truck rally either, but she had other things she wanted to do today. The only bright spot of having to work on a weekend is that Angela isn't nursing a hangover from wild Saturday night. Thank God for small favors.
Her luck doesn't last for long before she gets called down to the clinic for tech support because, as her supervisor says, she's the only one around to do it. It's her job and she knows how to handle the responsibility that pays her rent, but that doesn't mean Angela can't grumble her way to office, computer equipment in tow. Art school didn't prepare her for this.
With a knock on the door, she pokes her head into the clinic that's rather empty for a weekend.]
Yoohoo. Anybody home? Tech support calling!
Hello. It is Caspian. I wanted to see if you were feeling better.
And...that's all.
And...that's all.
Just wanted to call and say thanks for sticking up for me, but you really didn't have to...don't have to.
He's going to be upset. I get that.
He's going to be upset. I get that.
[The vista through the shop window is of someone who clearly needed the three empty espresso cups lined up in front of him. Pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb to drive back a little of the pounding in his skull, Chase sits hunched over the table, staring down at the display on his pager. He lost his watch sometime last night between the third scotch and dawn, and bed's both a distant memory and a distant hope. He can't remember why he thought this was a good idea anymore. But he's not late to meet her.]
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