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
If he had to, he'd find a way to get access to those files personally. But the patients could tell him little, he was sure. What he needed was access to the cure or cures and the doctor doing it.
no subject
Well--! Colour her shock and her reaction is obvious, eyebrows raised up and her expression becoming more relaxed with this new hope coming along. Technology continues to surprise Clara. When she passed away, the biggest thing she recalled happening is an iMac of some sort.
"It sounds like a good idea," she says, nodding. "Do you want me to come with you when you go to the clinic again?"
no subject
He no longer had his police connections. He couldn't call Jo, pass on his list, and have her run information. That was taking time to get used to. Which told him, even if he didn't like admitting it, he missed his previous work too much.
"But your help... That might be very useful, actually. You can go a lot more places than I can."
no subject
It's rude to do, she knowns and she tells herself it's for the greater good. This has to be done to get to the bottom of the mystery presented to them. No omelette can be made without cracking a couple of eggs in the process.
"I'll do whatever I can to help you in this," she promises him. "What should I be on the lookout for when I'm there?"
no subject
He sighs a little, tilting his head back.
"It's a bit vague I know. But I don't have a clue what we're dealing with right now, so... until then? We have to look at everything."
no subject
"Shipping information? For medicine and equipment?" Something like that, perhaps. All the same she nods, trusting his word on this. "It isn't going to be a problem for me at all, Dr. Morgan. I'll do my best to help you out in any way I can. It makes sense since I asked you to look into this, after all. It's a relief for me to know you're doing this."
no subject
That meant it was being concocted by them. Which meant they might be dealing with anything. That would make things far more dangerous for the patients taking whatever they were given.
no subject
They look different form to form but Clara knows the basics of them. Thanks to Francisco's says of picking up every odd job he could get during their youth. A consistent one was being a deliverer of goods and sometimes, on visits to his workplace, she saw a foreman going through them to check on supplies.
"Alright. I can definitely can keep an eye out for that." She nods, reaffirming her role in this. "Patient files, shipping manifests, and... bills for the clinic? For supplies?"
That makes sense to her but she will focus on the ones Dr. Morgan wanted the most.
no subject
What they were charging people, how they were receiving it, and what they were paying for. He couldn't help but want to understand. Even if it proved to be nothing important, he was curious to know how they were doing what they were.
"Something's going on. Maybe it's just some kind of hoax. I hope so, really."
Because otherwise... something very bad -- far worse than cheating people out of money -- was going on.
no subject
That makes her frown a little bit but she doesn't ask, thinking that maybe one step at a time is the best approach for this. If she works herself up for all the other awful scenarios that could happen then she'll lose her cool and her ability to sneak around the clinic. Not good at all.
So baby steps. First: Getting information before assuming information. That's a good start, she thinks. "When do you want to visit there, Dr. Morgan? You know I'm free most of the time so what time do you think is best to visit them?"
no subject
He could still see the bodies clearly. He remembered speaking to some of the spirits, trying to piece together what had happened. They'd all found success at the clinic with no idea what it'd actually done to them.
"Within the week, certainly. I don't want this to go too long without getting some kind of an answer."
no subject
"I keep forgetting that isn't just London that has this happening from time to time." The idea that there's more out there is a bit daunting. "I'll definitely be there if you need me, Dr. Morgan. I want to make sure the patients are safe or, at least, can be safe from harm."
no subject
He could pay another visit and allow for a ghost to slip in at the same time. Someone who could literally walk through walls and find what he couldn't. At least not as quickly.
no subject
The morning ghost gets the results as the saying go, give or take a few little tweaks. "Oh! And before I forget: If I find anything dangerous or anything suspicious that needs to be known right away I'm hmm... yell 'fire' to you? Just so we're on the same page, Dr. Morgan."