Dr Henry Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
livelongenough) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-06-08 11:49 pm
livelongenough) wrote in undergrounds2015-06-08 11:49 pm
Entry tags:
The good doctor
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.))
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.))
no subject
no subject
"While this school provides a magical education, the mundane subjects cannot be overlooked either. The students will, after all, have to blend into the rest of society."
no subject
Although his words naturally lead to another question: "Why don't you want to teach medicine?"
no subject
There was also much less of a chance of someone recognising him if he stuck close to Redbright and just ran his own private clinic.
no subject
"That sort of class is probably needed and wanted here, particularly with regard to supernatural species. You should reconsider your choice."
no subject
The question about whether or not he is human... he leaves unanswered. Until he knows more about this 'prospective student,' he'll keep his cards close to his chest. Keep things open.
no subject
"Do you have particular specialties within the fields of history and politics? Or maybe I should ask more specifically what the classes are."
no subject
Then again, that was youth. They'd rather learn something new themselves and damn the consequences. What happened while they learned didn't matter. Their own gain did.
"I specialise in Western history, particularly, within the last three hundred years. My political emphasis is in comparative politics."
1/2
"... have you made some grave mistake before? You sound almost afraid of it."
2/2
Well. "Does the politics class have any vacancies?" Because he's selling himself really highly as a prospective student right now.
no subject
The boy is impulsive, and he clearly doesn't understand how to interact with people by not blurting out the first thing to come to mind. Still, being with his peers and in a structured school setting might be good for him. Teach him a few things.
"However, it will be offered next term as well."
no subject
What book are you using for the class? Seems it'll be easier for me to simply read it and come discuss the individual chapters with you on my own time." Um.
no subject
"If you want to attend the school, you will do it properly. Or with express permission from Ms Redbright to approach the materials differently. Otherwise, you will receive no credit unless you are in class every day and doing every assignment."
no subject
I don't care whether or not I receive the credit for the work that I do. All that matters to me is actually learning the information, whether or not it counts towards more than my own mind."
no subject
no subject
"Then I won't waste any more of your time. Are you at least willing to tell me the name of the book you're using? I'd like to buy it for myself."