The good doctor

[livelongenough]

1) Real estate shopping

Thank you for your time, ma'am. I really appreciated it. I'll get back to you this week with an offer if I decide to buy."

It was a nice little practice. Always family owned, and the father was too old to do steady work. He was ready to retire, and none of his children had gone into the medical field. The offices had a very warm feeling to them. It felt like someone's living room, which made patients more comfortable. It also had multiple entrances, which meant that people who didn't want to be seen coming and going wouldn't be.

It was a bit small, but he'd have to start small anyway. He hadn't been a physician in quite some time, which meant he'd need to rewrite his resume a bit. Perhaps he'd call his hacker... Was she a friend? Yes, she was. His hacker friend. She'd done wonders for his records before.

"Home sweet home, I think," he said to himself.


2) A little detective work (day)

The Glenmorgan Clinic was a clean little spot, all polished marble and bright smiles. He'd made up a story, admittedly. He told the girl at the desk that he'd heard good things about the clinic, that his wife was sick, and that money was no object. Nothing could be done unless he brought his wife in, of course, but that wasn't what was important.

What did matter was the literature he received. Phamplets and a few URLs about their doctors and their procedures.

Not for the first time, he wished Jo were here. She'd have the authority to really go digging, maybe even get a warrant for a patient list. Instead, he'd had to make due with what he could get out of people while in the lobby and what he saw with the doctor. He'd heard the success stories, seen the pictures, but without names, he couldn't verify anything. Getting those...

For now, though, he sat outside a pastry shop, sipping his tea as he looked through the leaflet of the 'miracle clinic.' It was vague -- too vague for his tastes. Something was wrong.


3) A little detective work (night)

The head of a small Barnet nest had given him a task. She'd promised to keep the peace with the expansion of Redbright and to fully comply with the requirements to stay in the area if he found out what happened to two of her missing 'young.' They'd gone out for a hunt each within the last three weeks, and neither of them had returned.

It might have been a bit of a roundabout way of doing things, but he wanted to know if other nests were experiencing similar problems. It might, at least, narrow down what he was looking for.

So, Henry was out at night, walking down the streets of Islington. Familiar streets, ones he knew all too well. They'd changed a bit, but... Well. London was as eternal as he was. Some things just stayed the same. After all, this country respected history. A hundred year old building was a testament, not in need of being removed and its base built upon anew. Renovation, not reconstruction. That's what makes London home.

He looked around, judging the street. He was near the recognised nest of the area, he was sure. Might even be under someone's gaze right now. But he could handle that.


4) Downtime

Henry enjoyed antique shops. They reminded him of Abraham. Which caused mixed emotions. On the one hand, it was for the best that they spoke only rarely and that he couldn't go visit for a long time. Still, he missed his son. More, at this point, than he missed his late wife. He'd long since mourned Abigail. Abraham, however...

But he wasn't gone. They were just apart.

Which helped Henry rally himself a little, especially as he inspected the wares of his particular shop. A desk had caught his eye. Late Edwardian, solid oak. Still in excellent condition.

Surely Ms Redbright would allow him to change out the one in his office for something a little more customised to his tastes. If not, he'd find space for it in his rooms or in the clinic he was going to open. Either way, his admiration of it showed, as did the careful inspection he was making on it.

Which didn't stop him from noticing something someone else was admiring.

"It's a fake," he warned in a calm, polite tone.


5) School's In

Academia was no stranger for Henry Morgan. Being an instructor, however, was. He was far more comfortable patching students up than teaching classes. After this term and seeing how he handled it himself, he knew he might have to talk to Ms Redbright and get his position shifted around a little. He wanted to be at the Institute, certainly, but doing anything away from medicine could prove to be too much.

Still, it as a new experience, and he didn't mind that.

It didn't stop him from being frustrated with his students as he graded the first batch of essays from his class on politics. They were young, he had to remind himself. His purpose was to engage their minds, not test the critical thinking skills they didn't already have. He'd wanted a baseline for their knowledge and for their patterns of examination and reasoning, and he had one. He just... had to correct it now.

His office door remained open as he worked for staff and student alike.


6) Wildcard

((Got a scene you want? Post a starter in the comments.))

Comments

3

[emotioneater]

Indeed, he had a pair of eyes on him right at that very moment. Cooper prided himself on knowing all the movements that went on in Islington's territory. Even if he didn't personally track every person, he knew the others of the clan would inform him if there was anyone suspicious moving around. When he received word of Henry walking the streets, lingering in the area when others would move along, he decided to investigate.

He stealthily followed Henry for about a block, following far enough behind not to be noticed, but close enough that he could keep an eye on what the man was doing. After seeing no indication of what he wanted, he decided to confront him directly. Cooper appeared as if he'd come from nowhere at all. "Lost your way, have you?"

[livelongenough]

Something that years of being alive allowed one to learn was how to feel eyes on you. So, Henry wasn't entirely surprised -- especially, now, knowing about vampires -- when someone appeared. He held up his hands as he turned around, showing he had no weapons. He even managed a small smile.

"Actually, I happened to be looking for someone to talk to you. Maybe you can help me out?" He'd learned to be careful about how he said things. Though, after this many years, he had pretty good intuition about things. "I don't suppose you know of a nest in this area?"

Normal people? Wouldn't have a clue what he was talking about. It was a good place to start.

[emotioneater]

Cooper considered the question. This man didn't look like any ally or hanger-on that he knew of. What sort of fool willingly sought out vampires? "Tell me why you need t'find them and maybe I'll tell you where they are."

Cooper folded his arms, the expression on his face showing that the matter was not up for debate. His first duty was to keep the vampires in the area safe. He didn't know what this man's intentions were, and until he did, Henry wasn't getting anything from him.

[livelongenough]

Henry kept his hands up. If there was one thing he'd learned from his time with Jo, it was how to make sure someone knew he wasn't a threat. Hands visible was a good start.

"There's a nest in Barnet that's had a couple of members go missing. I promised them I'd look into it."

He still couldn't believe he was dealing with vampires. It seemed impossible, but he'd seen the proof for it. He wasn't the only... different sort of person out there. Which amazed him. Still, it was important that he kept focused.

"I wanted to ask about the nest here. See if anyone's gone missing."

[emotioneater]

"What's it to you?" Cooper asked, his suspicions not quelled. His first guess for someone looking for missing vampires would be a hunter looking to find more, but he claimed a nest had sent him. That was a bold lie to make and Cooper could think of half a dozen more plausible ones off the top of his head. Perhaps he was on the level.

"What's your name?" He demanded imperiously before his first question had even been answered. He watched Henry very closely for any signs of a lie. Anyone who wouldn't tell the truth about something as simple as their name wasn't to be trusted.

5

[eyeforaneye]

It's not Sasuke's first visit to the Institute, of course, but it might as well be with how long it takes him to navigate the halls. Perhaps sequestering himself in a few rooms only the last time had been to this detriment. Still, a very lengthy examination of the course listing and enlisting the aid of another professor has him at Henry's door in short order just after lunch.

"Henry Morgan?"

[livelongenough]

Henry looks up at the sound of his name and offers a bit of a smile to the young man at his door. He sets down his pen and puts the papers aside.

"Come in. How may I help you?"

[eyeforaneye]

And he lets himself in then as directed, securing a seat just as boldly.

"I'm considering taking classes here and I wanted to ask about yours and the work that you do." Straight to the point.

[livelongenough]

"It's certainly a very good education program." Which is why he accepted the position in the first place, as well as having known Ms Redbright's father awhile ago. "I teach courses in both politics and history."

[eyeforaneye]

"I see. And when you mention history, you're talking about the history of the supernatural world or general history? I don't have a need to repeat what I've already learned, after all."

[ 2 ]

[warmheartedly]

Clara had been floating through the streets, stretching her powers a bit to give herself more strength for her long trips around the city, when she spots the familiar figure at the pastry shop.

With her face lighting up, she goes over to him and waves hello with a friendly smile on her face. Knowing better than to try and speak to him verbally, since he was in public and there was a waitress nearby picking up the leftovers still, she opts to use her actions to speak for her. For now at least.

Spotting the leaflet in his possession, her expression morphs into surprise as she looks at him and back at the small but significant article in his hands. She points at it, quizzically. Is that what I think it is?

[livelongenough]

Henry looked up at her and gave a slow nod. There was no way to speak openly for now, but he did close the brochure and pocket it. Then, he picked up his coffee cup, already portable, and started a stroll down the street. He glanced over his shoulder and made a gesture with his head to get her to follow.

It would be easy to find a place where they could talk.

[warmheartedly]

Already getting an idea what he was hoping from her, Clara is quick to follow after him down the street and it isn't long before she catches up with him.

The street, while bustling with people thanks to the hour, is a better place for them to speak. People would either be too consumed with their own affairs to notice him speaking aloud or think he's just talking on those little phones put in your ear to keep your hands free.

"Hello, Dr. Morgan." Her friendly smile falters a bit as she looks at the brochure that he has pocketed on his person. "I take it you were able to visit the clinic already?"

[livelongenough]

Henry sighs as soon as he's able, but he tries to smile nonetheless. He wants to be able to tell her that it's nothing but hype. Just a good PR spin on snake oil. But...

"I did. It's... I'm still trying to make certain what it is, but something is going on."

He considers the brochure, opening it again to look at the information. None of which makes sense from a medical perspective. It all sounds good, but it's not right. Which means they're hiding something.

[warmheartedly]

"Do you think this is all a ruse? That they're all pulling some sort of scheme?"

Clara frets. Of course she frets. That's what worries her the most, the idea of people being swindled out of their money for something that wouldn't benefit them or their loved ones in anyway. It makes her lips thin in disapproval and causes her surroundings to be a bit cooler than they should be.

4

[kleptofaeniac]

Not but ten feet from where Henry was warning the patron about the legitimacy of the item they were looking at, Kenzi was trying to convince the antiquities dealer of the legitimacy of her own item.

"I'm telling you this has been in my grandma's attic for decades. She didn't even know what it was worth!"

Kenzi looked rather plain at the counter, not at all done up in her usual style of thick eyeliner and severely straight black hair. Her wig was modest, the color more natural looking than it typically was. All in all, she tried to look like someone who was a lot more innocent than she was.

"Well I can probably give you thirty pounds for it...," the antiquities dealer either had never heard of nor seen a Russian icon before, or he was trying to cheat her.

Kenzi wished she could just force the guy to give her what she wanted for it, but sadly - the direct con wasn't exactly applicable here.

"Are you joking? It's worth at least ten times that! And that's still not enough!"

[livelongenough]

Henry looked over, curious about the accent he heard. North American, but-- Canadian? He thought so. And the conversation was very interesting.

"May I?" he asked, though it was only out of politeness rather than any serious inquiry. In a moment, he leaned against the side of the counter, studying the icons. He brushed the tips of his fingers over one, feeling the consistency. "My God."

He recognised the icons. One of the women he'd cared for in Kowno -- a woman who an American wanted to marry and take back to the States -- had them in her bag. When he'd seen them, she'd gone white and starting whispering about her family. He'd calmed her in Russian, assured her he wouldn't alert anyone to them, and made sure she had a clean bill of health and the ability to get out of her current profession. The last time he'd seen her, she was with her fiancé.

But here they were.

And this man had offered her thirty pounds.

"Five hundred," he said resolutely. "If you'll sell to me."

[kleptofaeniac]

Kenzi actually believed in what she was selling for once. Because the icons were legitimate. Where they came from, well...that was a different story. When Henry came to intervene, Kenzi felt a flare of panic rise - what if he was a cop? What if he was the guy the icons were stolen from.

But Demi told her it was a little old lady's place. Not a young man. And even if this was the old girls son or something, it wasn't as if he had any idea Kenzi was in on it.
She had to play this cool.

"Be my guest." Kenzi gestured frustratedly toward the simple looking portraits of a saint.

She tried not to hover as Henry looked over them, hoping they were real and not fakes. Demi could lie to her just as easily as she could lie to him. They were cousins, not friends.

But at the offer...Kenzi's jaw dropped slightly.

"What?!" She couldn't help smiling around her shock. It helped sell the bit after all, didn't it?

"Uh... Yeah. Sure."

The man behind the counter seemed to know what the value of these things really was because he was starting to pitch a fit over losing the sale. Kenzi didn't even care to listen now, all her attention was on her mystery buyer.

"I just... wow. Thank you?"

[livelongenough]

"This is genuine Alypius set of icons," Henry murmured. It was, admittedly, worth far more than the girl was selling them for, but if she was at a pawn shop and not an auction house, that meant she was desperate for the money. Or desperate to move the art. That was a possibility, certainly. But he didn't know the woman's name who he'd seen with them so long ago or how to even begin to trace something like these, which had no doubt been hidden for ages. Besides, they might actually be hers.

His eyes flicked up to the man who was starting to make a scene and glared at him. Just a little. "You don't know who that is." It wasn't a mockery, just a simple, clean observation. "So, you don't know the value of these." It was wholly possible that even this young woman didn't know how precious these were.

Still, he looked at her calmly, returning his full attention to where it needed to be. "Would you accept a cheque? If not, I'll have to retrieve the funds and meet you another time."

[kleptofaeniac]

"Cash."

Kenzi knows as soon as she says it that it comes too quick, too eager and she chastises herself for it just as swiftly. She knows how that looks and it's far too telling. Until she has the money in hand, Kenzi needs to play her cards close to her chest.

"Sorry I've...been burned before."

She prays it works.

FOR SYLVIA

[livelongenough]

If he had to read one more essay from a student who seemed to fail to grasp the English language in even a rudimentary fashion, he was going to start employing the old-fashioned use of a ruler over knuckles. He wondered, briefly, if Ms Redbright would let him get away with that. Still, he had other things to worry about.

So, he knocked on her door just loud enough to be heard.

"Ms Redbright? I have the reports for the students' files."

[brightwitch]

She wouldn't let him get away with it, for the record. Fortunately Sylvia was not a mind reader. She heard the expected knock on the door and turned away from her computer, clasping her hands.

"Come in." Henry would find Sylvia seated behind her desk, a chair waiting for him. She smiled warmly. "How are you?"

[livelongenough]

"Well enough. A little discouraged by the obvious lack of primary education most of these students seem to have retained."

The complaint is easy in its tone. Just a man complaining about the carelessness of youth. It was simple enough, no great hardship. He smiled as he sat down across from her, offering the folder.

"Still, not an awful turn out. Just disappointing."

[brightwitch]

She took the folder, flicking through it without really reading anything, just to check that it was all in order. Then she set it aside, leaning back in her chair.

"Shall we think about how to improve that?"

Just a gentle nudge. If he felt strongly enough to complain, then she wanted to encourage him to do something about it.

[livelongenough]

Henry chuckled again and shrugged his shoulders.

"It's wholly possible I'm being too hard on them."

Or that he was ill-suited for trying to teach such subjects to young people. Or anyone. He hadn't ever done too fine a job, he knew, as a mentor. Lucas had learned by example, not by being taught.

"It's been a long while since I've been in academia, especially with so young of pupils."