[ Being contractually obligated to sleep for a set amount of time to recover his magic is really the only thing holding Adrian together some days.
He's about worried about the message, but Cassian wouldn't let things get that bad right? Surely, the brush with near death after Logan's claws is enough to make him a bit more careful...
Adrian has slung a moth-eaten bag full of supplies over his shoulder regardless. So long as whatever this is isn't life threatening, he means to deal with it without causing Cassian any further distress.
Adrian smiles in greeting as the door opens. The sparseness of the room itself doesn't trouble him; he and Fern have been much the same up until very recently, keeping all of their belongings in their adventuring packs. That question, however... Adrian's smile fades as soon as Cassian finishes speaking.
The rooms are often dirty, that's a given, but the fact that he hasn't been able to tidy up a bit... ]
You look pale, Mr. Andor. [ Adrian manages to sound both concerned and stern at the same time. He doesn't bother answering the question directly, shouldering his way (gently) past instead. ] Make yourself comfortable, if you please. I want to take a look at it right away.
[ It doesn't occur to him to think that the question without context might give off the impression that he was some kind of slob. Coupled with his tone and blatant side step of the question are both enough to give Cassian pause as he gives him a puzzled, almost offended look as Adrian (gently) shoulders past.
Unfortunately for Adrian as he enters he won't get very far. For it isn't long before he's greeted by a strange little droid. It beeps and chirps as it stops right in front of him coming up to about his calf. The robotic cat begins to yap senselessly in a language someone from Earth could probably recognize but even if it Adrian could understand what was being said, there's no stopping the end result: a cloud of dust being burped from the top of the droid before it blinks cheerfully at him.
There's a brief moment as Cassian watches this exchange over Adrian's shoulder before wryly moving past him towards the table. [
...That's what I asked if you were allergic to dust.
[ Adrian makes it all of two steps before a little creature rolls up to him. He's seen things like this before; they're called 'bots' most often, like the ones that the clinic uses for healing. This one, however, is far cuter than any of the purpose-built medical bots he's seen.
He doesn't recognize the language, but he does stop short to bend down and pat it it between the 'ears.' ]
Oh, hello... Are you Mr. Andor's frie—?! [ He gets a perfect face-full of dust for his trouble. Adrian coughs, and straightens with a grimace. His white shirt is liberally covered in dust. ] Oh. That's alright, my familiar is a bit dusty too...
[ He removes his glasses and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, the movement so weary and familiar that it's clear he's not even thinking about it as he does it. ] I pray for your cleansing grace.
[ The glasses are clean again in an instant, and Adrian repeats the phrase and the gesture to clean up his shirt even as he moves toward Cassian and the table. ] Is it your pet?
[ Well he did ask. Granted it wasn't a warning per say but it was still something. Still. Cassian can relate and grimaces as a result. There hasn't been a day since bringing C4T home that he doesn't inhale a lungful of dust at least once.
Before he can offer Adrian a cloth tor a towel to dust himself off with – he watches as the man takes care of it himself. With magic, he presumes.
Admittedly it seems like a useful thing to have. The number of times he'd found himself face first in a pile of muck or worse has been too many times to count. Helpfulness aside he doesn't comment on it, clearing aside some of the scraps and parts he's been cleaning to the side and pouring Adrian a cup of tea. ]
Pet? No. C4T is too much trouble to be a pet.
[ That being said it's impossible to miss the somewhat fond tone in his voice. ]
[ He hadn't thought twice about using magic until he looked up to see Cassian's expression. Not angry, at least, so there is that. Adrian shoots him an apologetic look before he sets his bag on the table. ]
...More or less. A familiar is a sort of magical assistant, but their nature and intelligence are largely that of an animal. [ He removes a smaller package from his medical bag; a ziplock full of sterile supplies for wound cleaning. ] I've heard that bots are much the same. Are you an artificer? Did you build this one?
[ Having not seen a 'C4T' before, it's difficult for him to tell if Cassian has put it together from scrapped parts, or simply repaired an existing thing. He is curious, though. Though his time here has given him some understanding of what things do, he's still somewhat mystified by how they work.
He moves his full medical bag from the table to the floor and takes the cup of tea from Cassian with a nod of thanks. ]
No, wait, don't let me get distracted — what have you done to your leg exactly? You're favoring it.
[ Funnily enough this isn't the first time that someone has called him an artificer so he doesn't look up with an inquisitive expression when it's used. The use of the word registers faintly in his mind and his thoughts momentarily wander to Fern who had kept him company that night at the diner over a plate of nachos. ]
No and no.
[ Instead of leaving it there however, he offers a little more of an explanation. ]
I bought this one from the supermarket. From what I know about artificier's they usually fix the things. I haven't been able to fix this one.
[ And though it's annoying, there's an undeniable charm to the droid in its inability to actually do its intended job. But right. His leg. Weariness flits across his face again. ]
I thought something was crawling under my skin so dug into it with a knife - [ He stands, prepared to begin explaining the whole ordeal but automatically moving to tug his sweatpants down when he realizes that he isn't alone. His eyes meet Adrian's. ] May I?
I'm sure you'll sort it out. [ The droid, he means. ] And if you don't... well, there's nothing wrong with being a bit odd.
[ This statement only applies to things other than himself, of course, but it still stands.
His expression shifts from bemused to concerned as Cassian explains the situation. He's not too surprised, actually. One or two patients have come by the clinic with similar stories. It's just that they had come... much earlier. His gaze drops to Cassian's leg, unthinking. It's only when Cassian pauses that he remembers that he ought to look away while his patient undresses. ]
Oh! My apologies, please do. Just set them aside for now. I suspect we'll need to re-dress the wound at the very least. [ Adrian sets the tea down and busies himself rooting through his medical bag again, just to make things a touch less awkward. He's fairly certain that he has some antibiotics... ]
[ When Adrian averts his gaze Cassian slips out of the sweatpants, draping them across the back of his chair. The creak of it as he settles back is probably a good enough indication that Adrian would be safe to look but Cassian clear his throat all the same.
The bandages don't look good. But it wouldn't be for lack of trying.
A wound like this made several days ago should have dried, or at the very least begun to scab. Instead it seems to have done the opposite. The bandages he'd placed no more than several hours ago are stained with blood. He thinks it's blood anyway. Hard to say when it's black.
Even though he tries to keep an impassive expression there's no hiding the thinning of his lips as he begins to unravel the bandages. ]
[ The bottle of antibiotics joins the sterile supplies on the table, but Adrian doesn't straighten up. He settles on his knees in front of Cassian's chair so that he can better see what his leg looks like.
To be fair to him, the bandages were competently done, and the parts that aren't soaked with blood look clean enough to have been changed recently. He casts a quick spell to clean his hands, then switches his leather gloves for latex. ]
May I? [ He asks, when Cassian finishes unwinding the bandages. His expression is impassive as it had been when Cassian had almost died, though the faint line of concern between his brows betrays him. Given permission, he reaches out to lift the gauze away, exceedingly careful with anything that seems to be stuck with dried blood. ]
Your blood was red the last time that I treated you. [ He looks up at Cassian. ] Did this happen in tandem with the wound, or before it? How many days has it been like this?
[ It's perhaps because of the angle that Cassian can make out the furrow of his brow from here. It's not that he needs someone to tell him that this looked just as bad as it felt but the confirmation is...probably a little more concerning than before to say the least.
A part of him appreciates it though. He's dealt with doctors before who have tried to sugar coat his injuries to him. Truthfully, he'd rather have this.
The lift of bandages pulls some of the hair and skin off in the process and he winces a little before meeting Adrian's gaze again. ]
Probably. It's hard to say. I didn't have any injuries before this one.
[ At least not recent ones or ones that would draw blood. Working out on the Rail was hard work and there were bound to be some scrapes and bruises as is evidenced by the smattering of bruises that have bloomed on his shins. ]
[ Adrian gives him an apologetic look, but he does remove the gauze pad to see the full state of it. The black blood makes it difficult to gauge whether the wound is leaking any other unpleasant substances, but the blood itself is a bad enough sign.
It is... oddly beautiful, but this is hardly the time to comment on that.
He sits back on his heels with a soft exhale. ] Well, the good news is that if the change in your blood was a direct result of the infection, you would already be dead. The bad news is I have no idea what the change means, or how it will effect your immune response. Have you had any fever symptoms? Nausea?
[ Adrian waits for his answer, but it doesn't change his own prognosis much. ] Here are your options: you can let me heal it here, with magic, or I can drive you to a clinic and you can let a medibot handle it.
[ He puts a hand on Cassian's uninjured leg and looks up at him, imploring. ] I'm not trying to frighten you, Cassian, but if you roll the dice with antibiotics and bandages for a wound this size — you could lose the leg, if not your life.
[ Unfortunately, the blood is prettier than your average, run of the mill blood. There's a shine to it, almost like an oil sheen except the oil sheen had more of the sensation that one was looking into a galaxy. Not that Cassian has ever thought that. He's tried his best not to think about it at any length aside from the fact that it is, in fact blood.
(He'd tasted it. Just a small lick. On a whim.) ]
A fever. Not much nausea that wouldn't be from the concussion.
[ He pauses then, lips snapping shut upon realizing that Adrian didn't know about the second concussion. Maybe it's better to keep it that way. He'd asked him here to help with the gaping wound in his thigh, not something that was now weeks old. Being chided for the lack of general care that he offers himself however may not be incredibly top of mind. Not with the way Adrian looks up at him with that imploring gaze. Inadvertently, Adrian's words place something heavy on his heart.
Since arriving, getting home has been his goal. That hasn't wavered. But what has changed has been how little he seems to care about himself, about his well-being and his life. He doesn't have a death wish. Not most of the time anyway. But Adrian's plea provides a stark realization that he had been skirting around before. After a moment of holding his gaze he seems to slouch back into the chair. ]
[ It's a good thing that Adrian doesn't know about the licking. What is with the people in his life and putting strange substances into their mouths??
At least in this case the blood was already inside of Cassian. ]
The concussion. [ Adrian repeats, looking deeply unimpressed, but he bites his tongue on the scolding he most certainly wants to give. It will just make Cassian more reluctant to tell him things like this in the future.
It helps, too, that Cassian agrees to be healed without putting up too much of a fuss. At least it means that his sense of self-preservation is strong, despite some evidence to the contrary. Adrian exhales slowly. ]
It's going to be bright. [ He gives Cassian a moment before his halo blinks into existence behind his head. Adrian drops his gaze back to the wound, and the halo gets brighter still. Just as before, the blood seems to shift to liquid gold, though the shimmer of stardust remains. The magic isn't quite as intense as it was the first time, but it's still a dose of warm and pleasant sensation that seems to ebb and flow every few seconds. ] For future reference... A fever when you have an open wound is an urgent concern. It usually means that the infection is severe. This will close the wound, but I'm going to leave you some antibiotics as well, and I would suggest you treat it gently for at least a few more days.
[ A pause as Adrian checks the wound, then determines that it's sealed well enough to dismiss his halo. The gold is even more stark against the black blood, but it's no longer a ragged open wound. He looks up at Cassian again. ] Can I ask why you are so averse to magic?
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no subject
He's about worried about the message, but Cassian wouldn't let things get that bad right? Surely, the brush with near death after Logan's claws is enough to make him a bit more careful...
Adrian has slung a moth-eaten bag full of supplies over his shoulder regardless. So long as whatever this is isn't life threatening, he means to deal with it without causing Cassian any further distress.
Adrian smiles in greeting as the door opens. The sparseness of the room itself doesn't trouble him; he and Fern have been much the same up until very recently, keeping all of their belongings in their adventuring packs. That question, however... Adrian's smile fades as soon as Cassian finishes speaking.
The rooms are often dirty, that's a given, but the fact that he hasn't been able to tidy up a bit... ]
You look pale, Mr. Andor. [ Adrian manages to sound both concerned and stern at the same time. He doesn't bother answering the question directly, shouldering his way (gently) past instead. ] Make yourself comfortable, if you please. I want to take a look at it right away.
no subject
Unfortunately for Adrian as he enters he won't get very far. For it isn't long before he's greeted by a strange little droid. It beeps and chirps as it stops right in front of him coming up to about his calf. The robotic cat begins to yap senselessly in a language someone from Earth could probably recognize but even if it Adrian could understand what was being said, there's no stopping the end result: a cloud of dust being burped from the top of the droid before it blinks cheerfully at him.
There's a brief moment as Cassian watches this exchange over Adrian's shoulder before wryly moving past him towards the table. [
...That's what I asked if you were allergic to dust.
no subject
He doesn't recognize the language, but he does stop short to bend down and pat it it between the 'ears.' ]
Oh, hello... Are you Mr. Andor's frie—?! [ He gets a perfect face-full of dust for his trouble. Adrian coughs, and straightens with a grimace. His white shirt is liberally covered in dust. ] Oh. That's alright, my familiar is a bit dusty too...
[ He removes his glasses and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, the movement so weary and familiar that it's clear he's not even thinking about it as he does it. ] I pray for your cleansing grace.
[ The glasses are clean again in an instant, and Adrian repeats the phrase and the gesture to clean up his shirt even as he moves toward Cassian and the table. ] Is it your pet?
no subject
Before he can offer Adrian a cloth tor a towel to dust himself off with – he watches as the man takes care of it himself. With magic, he presumes.
Admittedly it seems like a useful thing to have. The number of times he'd found himself face first in a pile of muck or worse has been too many times to count. Helpfulness aside he doesn't comment on it, clearing aside some of the scraps and parts he's been cleaning to the side and pouring Adrian a cup of tea. ]
Pet? No. C4T is too much trouble to be a pet.
[ That being said it's impossible to miss the somewhat fond tone in his voice. ]
You have a... familiar? Is that the same thing?
no subject
...More or less. A familiar is a sort of magical assistant, but their nature and intelligence are largely that of an animal. [ He removes a smaller package from his medical bag; a ziplock full of sterile supplies for wound cleaning. ] I've heard that bots are much the same. Are you an artificer? Did you build this one?
[ Having not seen a 'C4T' before, it's difficult for him to tell if Cassian has put it together from scrapped parts, or simply repaired an existing thing. He is curious, though. Though his time here has given him some understanding of what things do, he's still somewhat mystified by how they work.
He moves his full medical bag from the table to the floor and takes the cup of tea from Cassian with a nod of thanks. ]
No, wait, don't let me get distracted — what have you done to your leg exactly? You're favoring it.
no subject
No and no.
[ Instead of leaving it there however, he offers a little more of an explanation. ]
I bought this one from the supermarket. From what I know about artificier's they usually fix the things. I haven't been able to fix this one.
[ And though it's annoying, there's an undeniable charm to the droid in its inability to actually do its intended job. But right. His leg. Weariness flits across his face again. ]
I thought something was crawling under my skin so dug into it with a knife - [ He stands, prepared to begin explaining the whole ordeal but automatically moving to tug his sweatpants down when he realizes that he isn't alone. His eyes meet Adrian's. ] May I?
no subject
[ This statement only applies to things other than himself, of course, but it still stands.
His expression shifts from bemused to concerned as Cassian explains the situation. He's not too surprised, actually. One or two patients have come by the clinic with similar stories. It's just that they had come... much earlier. His gaze drops to Cassian's leg, unthinking. It's only when Cassian pauses that he remembers that he ought to look away while his patient undresses. ]
Oh! My apologies, please do. Just set them aside for now. I suspect we'll need to re-dress the wound at the very least. [ Adrian sets the tea down and busies himself rooting through his medical bag again, just to make things a touch less awkward. He's fairly certain that he has some antibiotics... ]
no subject
The bandages don't look good. But it wouldn't be for lack of trying.
A wound like this made several days ago should have dried, or at the very least begun to scab. Instead it seems to have done the opposite. The bandages he'd placed no more than several hours ago are stained with blood. He thinks it's blood anyway. Hard to say when it's black.
Even though he tries to keep an impassive expression there's no hiding the thinning of his lips as he begins to unravel the bandages. ]
no subject
To be fair to him, the bandages were competently done, and the parts that aren't soaked with blood look clean enough to have been changed recently. He casts a quick spell to clean his hands, then switches his leather gloves for latex. ]
May I? [ He asks, when Cassian finishes unwinding the bandages. His expression is impassive as it had been when Cassian had almost died, though the faint line of concern between his brows betrays him. Given permission, he reaches out to lift the gauze away, exceedingly careful with anything that seems to be stuck with dried blood. ]
Your blood was red the last time that I treated you. [ He looks up at Cassian. ] Did this happen in tandem with the wound, or before it? How many days has it been like this?
no subject
A part of him appreciates it though. He's dealt with doctors before who have tried to sugar coat his injuries to him. Truthfully, he'd rather have this.
The lift of bandages pulls some of the hair and skin off in the process and he winces a little before meeting Adrian's gaze again. ]
Probably. It's hard to say. I didn't have any injuries before this one.
[ At least not recent ones or ones that would draw blood. Working out on the Rail was hard work and there were bound to be some scrapes and bruises as is evidenced by the smattering of bruises that have bloomed on his shins. ]
no subject
It is... oddly beautiful, but this is hardly the time to comment on that.
He sits back on his heels with a soft exhale. ] Well, the good news is that if the change in your blood was a direct result of the infection, you would already be dead. The bad news is I have no idea what the change means, or how it will effect your immune response. Have you had any fever symptoms? Nausea?
[ Adrian waits for his answer, but it doesn't change his own prognosis much. ] Here are your options: you can let me heal it here, with magic, or I can drive you to a clinic and you can let a medibot handle it.
[ He puts a hand on Cassian's uninjured leg and looks up at him, imploring. ] I'm not trying to frighten you, Cassian, but if you roll the dice with antibiotics and bandages for a wound this size — you could lose the leg, if not your life.
no subject
(He'd tasted it. Just a small lick. On a whim.) ]
A fever. Not much nausea that wouldn't be from the concussion.
[ He pauses then, lips snapping shut upon realizing that Adrian didn't know about the second concussion. Maybe it's better to keep it that way. He'd asked him here to help with the gaping wound in his thigh, not something that was now weeks old. Being chided for the lack of general care that he offers himself however may not be incredibly top of mind. Not with the way Adrian looks up at him with that imploring gaze. Inadvertently, Adrian's words place something heavy on his heart.
Since arriving, getting home has been his goal. That hasn't wavered. But what has changed has been how little he seems to care about himself, about his well-being and his life. He doesn't have a death wish. Not most of the time anyway. But Adrian's plea provides a stark realization that he had been skirting around before. After a moment of holding his gaze he seems to slouch back into the chair. ]
Okay. Magic it is then.
no subject
At least in this case the blood was already inside of Cassian. ]
The concussion. [ Adrian repeats, looking deeply unimpressed, but he bites his tongue on the scolding he most certainly wants to give. It will just make Cassian more reluctant to tell him things like this in the future.
It helps, too, that Cassian agrees to be healed without putting up too much of a fuss. At least it means that his sense of self-preservation is strong, despite some evidence to the contrary. Adrian exhales slowly. ]
It's going to be bright. [ He gives Cassian a moment before his halo blinks into existence behind his head. Adrian drops his gaze back to the wound, and the halo gets brighter still. Just as before, the blood seems to shift to liquid gold, though the shimmer of stardust remains. The magic isn't quite as intense as it was the first time, but it's still a dose of warm and pleasant sensation that seems to ebb and flow every few seconds. ] For future reference... A fever when you have an open wound is an urgent concern. It usually means that the infection is severe. This will close the wound, but I'm going to leave you some antibiotics as well, and I would suggest you treat it gently for at least a few more days.
[ A pause as Adrian checks the wound, then determines that it's sealed well enough to dismiss his halo. The gold is even more stark against the black blood, but it's no longer a ragged open wound. He looks up at Cassian again. ] Can I ask why you are so averse to magic?