01-21-2014, 09:51 PM
Torri's warning was met with a sly grin on Jacques' part that seemed almost out of place for his apparent boundlessly casual nature, "Do not worry, Doctor. I am quite good at playing the part of a responsible adult when required."
The real question was whether he was actually good at pretending to be responsible, or whether he was very good at pretending not to be.
He frowned comically as she drew the fourth vial of blood from his arm, as if expecting to see it deflate at any moment, or for the vial to fill with dust. Weren't they beyond this sort of thing by now? Modern computers and science was surely to the point that entire vials of blood weren't needed anymore? So just what was she up to? Was it an excuse to keep him around? Surely not, the good Doctor couldn't possibly have been cooped up with her job so long as that, right?
"Ah! A fellow army brat, is it? It truly is a small world, is it not Doctor? There are many a story in the Kitāb alf laylah wa-laylah that begin with seemingly innocent and unconnected encounters as this. Well, after that whole fiasco with that nuclear plant, I am sure it will not be much longer, although I fear they will not be so calm about it as Europe."
The book, One Thousand and One Arabian Nights, had made for some light reading on the flight from Morocco. Sometimes it surprised him just how ancient recorded history really was, and some of the stories from the oft-translated collection of stories were decidedly old.
He pressed two fingers to the cotton ball she pressed to his arm and by the time she returned he had tossed the cotton-ball into the waste receptacle and had somehow managed to get comfortable in the provided chair, legs crossed at the ankle and hands clasped behind his head. Her prompt return was met with a surprised jerk reaction as he sat up properly again. "You really are an unusual doctor, aren't you? Quite prompt. I suppose the CCD would send only their best for this detail though."
The real question was whether he was actually good at pretending to be responsible, or whether he was very good at pretending not to be.
He frowned comically as she drew the fourth vial of blood from his arm, as if expecting to see it deflate at any moment, or for the vial to fill with dust. Weren't they beyond this sort of thing by now? Modern computers and science was surely to the point that entire vials of blood weren't needed anymore? So just what was she up to? Was it an excuse to keep him around? Surely not, the good Doctor couldn't possibly have been cooped up with her job so long as that, right?
"Ah! A fellow army brat, is it? It truly is a small world, is it not Doctor? There are many a story in the Kitāb alf laylah wa-laylah that begin with seemingly innocent and unconnected encounters as this. Well, after that whole fiasco with that nuclear plant, I am sure it will not be much longer, although I fear they will not be so calm about it as Europe."
The book, One Thousand and One Arabian Nights, had made for some light reading on the flight from Morocco. Sometimes it surprised him just how ancient recorded history really was, and some of the stories from the oft-translated collection of stories were decidedly old.
He pressed two fingers to the cotton ball she pressed to his arm and by the time she returned he had tossed the cotton-ball into the waste receptacle and had somehow managed to get comfortable in the provided chair, legs crossed at the ankle and hands clasped behind his head. Her prompt return was met with a surprised jerk reaction as he sat up properly again. "You really are an unusual doctor, aren't you? Quite prompt. I suppose the CCD would send only their best for this detail though."