undergrounds | A Whisper in the Walls (Closed; for Clara)

"Yes, I understand. I'm very interested in it. I'd love to see the property. Yes, yes. The cost is fine. No, I won't need any financing. Saturday? Wonderful. Ten AM? Perfect. I'll be there. Thank you very much."

It had been a long time since he had bought property. Abe had gotten the shop in New York, and that, like this, had been paid for outright. It was better to stay out of debt. Credit was important, yes, but he'd manage to find another way to do that. Finance a car, perhaps. Something much less demanding than a business.

Clothes, too, would be useful. Open a few cards, make some purchases, pay them off. Keep it very clean, very streamlined, but that was always the difficulty of setting himself up in a city for the first time in almost thirty years. He hated having to do it, but, sometimes, it was necessary. Like when there was no way he could have survived a situation.

If Jo had found him at Abe's, everything would have fallen apart.

He hung up his office phone -- which was the only one he had, no mobile whatsoever -- and looked up. He knew he'd sensed something, and he saw it now. A particular ghost he'd met during the school's first official event he'd attended.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. How are you?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Clara usually tried to have a smile on her face, be it from a genuine one or a polite one. It was from thanks to both years of habit and personal belief one should never look down when meeting other people for something. Always could set a poor mood in her opinion.

And yet she finds herself unable to stop frowning when she comes to visit Dr. Morgan, her almost see through face grave and heavy with lines that were etched into her skin. There's no real need for her to wring her hands or hold herself, rubbing her arms, but it doesn't stop her from doing it.

"Hello, Dr. Morgan." Here she finally tried to smile and it didn't work out. The smile falls flat and she continues to drum her fingers against her arm instead. "I must be a bother to you already! Asking you to look out for Magra and now wanting to ask you about this funny clinic I just heard about. It might be my nerves getting the best of me but the way the poor student acted when he was talking to a friend. It got me so worried--"

Enough to babble a bit, it seems.

"Ma'am," he said politely, rising out of habit. Especially with ghosts, he defaulted to a more proper, old-fashioned manner. Any smile that might have started to form disappeared as soon as he saw her expression.

Then, as she spoke, he eased back down into his chair at his desk. His hands clasped together, and he listened intently. If a ghost was nervous... Well, that had his attention.

"What sort of clinic?"

She tries to calm herself down when she realises how much sense she isn't making to him, knowing that being so worked up wouldn't get either of them anywhere at this rate. Clara takes a deep breath, telling herself the sooner she pulls herself the sooner she can explain her worries.

"A clinic that apparently can do anything," she finally is able to tell him. "Heal people's illnesses, diseases, sicknesses -- You have it? It can solve it. Things considered impossible."

Her lips thin as she recalls the student. "At least that's what I understood from the poor student's speech in between their crying. They've been trying so hard to get in the clinic. For a parent. It's hard though. Apparently it's hard to get in for some reason."

Henry has heard of miracle cures before. He's nursed someone through the difficulties of coming to terms with not receiving the help promised by one. A last, desperate hope for someone otherwise condemned for certain. And he saw another that ought to have been a glimpse of hope but, instead, poisoned people because of its misuse. So, this? This makes him sigh and lean back.

"Is it just hype? That is wholly possible, after all. Placebo effect and such."

He doubts a ghost would bring such things to him, especially so concernedly, if there was nothing more to it than that. Still, he wants to hope that it's merely someone trying to sell snake oil and nothing more dangerous.

"Placebo? That means just thinking it works, right?"

Having never gotten proper education, picking things up from only her children's studies, Clara didn't know the more technical terms but perhaps got the gist of it. She hopes she does. "I want to believe that but..." The memory of the student makes Clara look so sad, the lines on her face becoming heavier and deeper with sympathy and worry for the unfortunate person. "Poor dear claimed up and down that it was real. That it had to be real since they met with people who came to the clinic and got better.

"People who also heard from it others."

She looks a little ashamed at this point. "They were speaking a bit more but they were so distressed -- It felt wrong of me to eavesdrop them any further so I left them be."

Henry frowned, considering the possibilities. If it was a new clinic, it could easily be a placebo effect. Or, if there were injections, it was possible that those contained white blood cells. No lasting effects (except potential bad ones, if things weren't handled properly) but it would mimic the symptoms of wellness. Mask any problems for awhile. Or perhaps it was something else. He couldn't forget the New York clinic and their promise of living forever. And how fatal that had wound up being.

"Did the student happen to mention what clinic it was?"

Nothing wrong, he supposed, with looking into things. At the very least, he'd be checking out his competition.

Clara's brow furrowed as she tried to recall a name, a place and felt awful that she wasn't been able to think of one right away.

"... Somewhere upperclass, that's for sure," is all she can say with certainty. "I remember them worrying about how they 'appeared' there and how to get 'enough' money. I suspect that it's either a rather pricey place or there's a pricey admission to get in."

A practice that she did not believe in, personally. Putting a barrier between a sick person and a cure that can only be put down if they threw enough money at it. Health was supposed to be universal for everyone, not just a select few. Maybe that's her own history of delicate health talking. The doctor looking into this is a good choice. He would be practical, unbiased about it.

Not that it stops her from sighing, "I'm so sorry that this is all I can do, Dr. Morgan. I wish there was something more that I can do to help you with this or the poor student."

"'Miracles' are never free, and they're often sold for far more than they're actually worth."

He knew the politics of it. The way healthcare and pharmacies ran, the way they tested drugs. He'd lived and worked in New York for far too long. The care here was different, a welcome change. Though some things were universal. Like that people who could would charge money.

"I'll... try to look into it. If you hear anything else, I'd very much like to know. It might help me narrow down the location of the clinic and what they're doing."

She nods, determined to do something about it in any way she can.

"I will! I promise I'll do my best to help you out." It was the least she could do. There were some advantages to being a ghost, weren't there? "I would just like to say thank you and... and I'm sorry too, Dr. Morgan. I know you're still settling here in the school and all but when I heard the student... I thought you were the only appropriate one to go to for help."

Since he's a doctor after all. He would know far better on what is going on in that clinic when he tracks it down.

"Please, don't apologize." He smiles a little, shaking his head. "Maybe I need a little excitement."

There's nothing wrong with telling her. After all, he's already asked her how long she's been dead, and that tends to be a rather personal question, most of the time. So, talking about himself a little wouldn't go amiss.

"Before I came here, I actually worked in New York City as one of their medical examiners. A detective there... We..." He sighs. It's still a fresh wound. "We got along quite well. She always welcomed me when I wanted to tag along on an investigation."

He shakes his head a little. "I suppose I've missed the mystery."

She doesn't push to ask what the trailing off was all about, knowing better than to prod and poke like that in someone's private affairs.

And she's still taking in the new information he admitted to her because oh goodness! Joining along in real investigations? In New York of all places too? How exciting. She tries to not look too awed by the revelation, nodding in what she hopes is a levelheaded manner. "Oh that sounds so very... adventurous. Hunting for clues and investigating leads!

"Looks like I came to the right person then for this," she smiles at him, feeling more confident then ever that she made the right call in going to him. "Well I hope this proves a challenge for you but I also hope that this is simply a misunderstanding or mere sale of snakeoil and hype. If only for the patients' sake."

A Whisper in the Walls (Closed; for Clara)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject