ic inbox;

[patientman]

Comments

[notleavingquietly]

I can come get it or you can come to the Duplex.

And thank you.

[patientman]

I'll be there shortly.

[ And, 'lo, as promised, he is there with a tricoderer, a hideous get well soon balloon, and a basket of rambutans. ]

[notleavingquietly]

[ Well. He recognizes - Bashir and the tricorder ]

...Careful, or I think you were actually concerned. Come in, get coffee, I need your opinion on someone I can't actually tell you anything about. And you to explain what I assume is food to me.

[ He. He's going to play with that balloon. It's neat and shiny. ]

[patientman]

I wouldn't dream of it.

[ And he trails along behind Crais like a good puppy. He does look to see if he can spot either the interface or its removal. ]

These are rambutans. You peel them. Don't eat the pits. They're sweet, like a lychee.

[notleavingquietly]

Good. There's no need to make things awkward.

[ Isn't Bashir supposed to be a cat?

Crais carries the basket into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them. He leaves the fruit basket on the counter and, in spite of mentioning coffee, puts a kettle on for tea.

There is... definitely a mess of a scar on the back of his neck, but the interface is in the living room on a shelf.]

How long can the tricorder store data?

[patientman]

Until it's full or I delete it. If you want something deleted, it's possible to set up a partition on a timelock.

[ Bashir finds a seat and does not comment on the scar. (Yet.) ]

I've done some research for people who were concerned about privacy. Part of my oath as a doctor is to respect that.

[notleavingquietly]

I know and I trust you, but this kid doesn't trust anyone. I'd actually like you to look at the data and see what you can come up with. It is as much technological as medical, but we both know you're smarter than everyone at nearly everything.

[ He's just making tea. This place is spartan as heck, but it's still somewhere Crais is comfortable and for all the lack of decoration it's... home, now. ]

[patientman]

That's very fair. I want to provide care to whomever needs it, however they can be encouraged towards it.

[ Would it be better if he was there to take the readings himself? To know what adjustments to make? Of course. ]

[notleavingquietly]

"Well, that was less resistance than I expected. Do you want a cookie?" Not sarcasm. There are cookies. Ginger-y ones.

[patientman]

"Yes, please." He would like tea, a cookie, and to examine Crais' neck. If he can't have all three, he'll settle for the first two and then watch him for any manner of obvious neurological upset.

"It might also help if I stayed on a comm while you do the scan. That way I can guide you if there's anything that needs adjusting. Save everyone a second trip."

[notleavingquietly]

He gets a plate and puts some cookies from the canister onto it - he baked them and they're edible, and that might be a sign of neurological upset, but Crais is very proud, and goes about making the tea.

"That would be a logical compromise. Last time I interacted with him he headbutted me in the face and then tried to stab me. I'm not sure he'll be agreeable." Mild, deliberately understated but the guy is frelling nuts.

[patientman]

"He sounds charming." It is entirely possible that Bashir isn't joking, but he'd consider himself friends with Martok. Once you've gotten close to a Klingon, your standards change a little.

[notleavingquietly]

"You might actually like him, but if he tried to stab you I'd break his neck and things would get very awkward, very quickly." He is absolutely not, in any way, joking. He does bring tea and cookies though.

[patientman]

"You act as if I haven't been stabbed before." Bashir doesn't roll his eyes, but the sentiment is there and to forestall any further commentary he snags a cookie and stuffs it in his mouth.

[notleavingquietly]

"You act like that doesn't make me more inclined to break someone's neck." That cookie is really ginger filled, Bashir. Be careful with it.