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Gerard gives a little one-armed shrug at the show of sympathy. It's a kindness and he does appreciate it, but he knows it's an awkward subject and the faster moved on the better.

"Your aunt sounds like a fine lady," he said. He wasn't sure how the future worked for that kind of thing, but there definitely was strays wherever there were people, and cats provided a valuable service to humanity aside from just being cute.

"Lapsang souchong or English breakfast? That's the only tea we have right now," he clarified. Both of those were by his own purchase, as getting Kavinsky to drink something that wasn't alcoholic was a miracle.

"She was an exceptional woman." Bashir smiles fondly as he remembers the times they spent together and the way she was always patient. Also, that she too liked to stick her hands in large bins of dried peas when no one was looking in the market. Auntie knew what was good in life.

"And the breakfast tea, please. If you've a little milk and sugar?"

Gerard nodded, and once the tea was brewing he set the mugs down and brought both a small container of milk and jar of sugar over. He thought if he'd be staying with Kavinsky long term he might get something nicer to put both of those things in when making tea, but thinking beyond the immediate moment was still a bit of a crapshoot for Gerard that depended on the day.

He added both milk and sugar to his own mug of English Breakfast tea, if only a little bit of each.

"I swear everyone here is obsessed with coffee. Not that I mind, but I feel like I need to drink more tea just to compensate."

"It's all very, ah, North American." And a couple centuries in the past, but that's not really a point of similarity between Bashir and Gerard. "I miss proper redleaf and a decent raktajino, but this is still a very fine thing to have."

After a little milk and sugar, he sips and content with it. It's no space-coffee or Cardassian tea, but it'll do very nicely.

"I tend to have a fair few people drop by, so I've taken to making sure I've enough tea for whomever Crais has sent my way. Even if he makes it difficult by regularly stealing all the mugs in my flat."

"Remind me to pick you up a branded mug from my work, then," Gerard says with a small wicked grin. "Just so you have one more for the stack."

The mugs in question also feature a very artistically rendered elaborately pierced dick, but that can be a surprise.

He also realizes he's stalling a bit on why he called Bashir over. It's always easier to show his scars before he likes someone, when it doesn't matter to him if that comes with a rejection or not. Even if it hasn't really happened in Duplicity, he's been rejected enough because of the scars that he expects that result. As the saying goes, the burned hand learns best.

"Anyway, might as well show off the burns first since that might cut interest out for anything further," he decides after weighing the two options. Scooting back from the kitchen island to give himself room, he tugs the hem of his shirt up and over his head before he can chicken out to show the extensive scarring across his arms and torso and vanishing under the waistband of his pants. Given that the tattoos on every joint and over his heart are the only real unburned parts aside from a couple small patches here and there and he has the barbells through his nipples in, it paints an extensive picture of a marked up body indeed. The Submissive mark down his throat is the only one that goes over the burns.

"I can take my pants off too if you want to see the rest, I didn't lose my dick or anything but they do go all the way down."

Bashir takes another sip of his tea and as Gerard takes off his shirt, he settles into a professional composure. There's no shock, no disgust, only a sort of gentle expression as he opens his bag and takes out his tricorder. "No, I think I should be able to get enough of a reading like this. You're welcome to sit down while I do some scans."

He stands and comes around close to Gerard, not quite into his personal space just yet, "It won't hurt in the slightest and if you want to see how it works, or to scan me first, I can walk you through that." After all, future-tech can be strange to those that are more familiar with ~~leeches and bloodletting~~ less advanced medical equipment. "And, if you're comfortable with it, after I run some scans, I would like to get a feel for the depth of your scarring, test range of motion in your joints, elasticity, and so forth. While I'm doing all that, we can talk about whatever you like or stay quiet."

"I trust you," Gerard says first. He'd like to maybe learn how to use the scanner thing, but right now he wants to do this before he loses his nerve. He sits down, holding his shirt in his lap and just staring at it before he looks back up at Julian again. His range of motion seems mostly unaffected thanks to the tattoos keeping the burns away from his joints, so there's relatively little pulling of scarred skin all things considered. "Just tell me what you're doing when you do it, even if I don't understand I'd like to hear it."

"Alright. The first thing I want to do is to see how deep the scar tissue goes, if it's contained to the upper levels of skin or if the cictrice - medical term for the tissue formed - goes deeper into the muscle." Bashir continues to natter in an appropriately scientific way as he works, but as his player is not a doctor and her wikipedia knowledge only goes so far, let us handwave, shall we? Science? Science! Scarring, hmm.

"Normally, I wouldn't have to take this into account, but was your injury caused through magical means?"

Something something science and medicine, yes, indeed. They're second degree according to the podcast. He holds as still as he can, unsure if he can move while Bashir works or not and deciding to err on the side of caution until and unless told otherwise.

"Effectively," he answers, again not liking the whole 'magic' thing but knowing that to someone uninformed of the specifics of the entity cosmology that's basically what it is. They are rather uniform, with clean edges bumping up against the protective 'aura' of clear skin around the tattoos on his joints the way that many burns aren't. "I was fighting a cultist."

Second degree isn't good news, but it's certainly something that they can work with. Bashir makes a thoughtful noise and putting aside his tricorder moves to take Gerard's hand in his - alas, it's not so they can hold hands, but it's so he can get a look at the edges of the scarring along the tattoos.

"And they use fire, I take it?" Rather than chemical or frostbite. "And what do you want as an end goal? Your mobility is good, but I can certainly work to improve elasticity and likely appearance." No promises, but it's not impossible.

Gerard gives a nod and a murmured "Effectively," regarding the fire. Yes, that's not it exactly, but compared to chemical or frostbite that's the best comparison and closest to. What happened is he had grabbed Diego Molina's wrist, his own bare skin connecting with Molina's, and then the world went black with unimaginable pain.

Unimaginable until he died, anyway, and he found new levels of that word.

"I'll take anything," he says, too quickly to hide the desperation even if he manages to keep his voice mostly level. "Whatever you can do for it... if you can do anything at all, I'll take it and won't be upset it's not more."

He had come to accept these were never going away when he'd been alive, and he hadn't been wrong there, but now he had a chance to have something other than an utter ruin of a body and he kept getting the foolish hope again and again that maybe this time it would work.

Hearing that pain in Gerard's voice, Bashir looks up and him and gently rests his hand on his friend's elbow. "I will do everything I can for you, and for what little it's worth, I've seen and worked on people who've survived deeper burns. Yes, yours cover a lot of area, but they don't go so deep as to damage much of the muscle underneath, which is a good sign."

"While you didn't ask me, and you're welcome to tell me to switch the topic, I want you to know that your scars are just that - scars. The only thing they mean to me is that you endured something terrible." His expression wavers, from professional to something softer and more personal. "I have been a doctor on the front lines of war and even with all the technology I had at my disposal, there were people I couldn't save or wholly heal."

"But," he says and pulls himself back to a more doctorly bearing, "I think the first things we can try are fairly simple. One of the issues with heavy scarring is that it builds up a lattice, a net of tough tissue, and I think that breaking that down will allow us to do a little more."

Gerard knows he should feel the same - that it's just something that happened to him, that it has no bearing on who he is as a person, and if it was to anyone else he wouldn't even hesitate with that belief. Telling it to himself, though... that's always harder, and he can fake it sometimes. But he still can't forget when he got sent to realignment and how they'd figured out quick where his insecurities were, stripping him naked so his ruined body was on full display. If he didn't have his scars, at least, it would be one less thing this damn city could use against him.

He almost tries to make a weak joke asking if Julian is telling him to stop his whining, but that falls flat before he can voice it and he just nods mutely instead.

"... even if it's only a little improvement - that would mean so much to me," he says, meeting Julian's eyes.

"Then let's get started, hmm? I brought along some supplies and I can show you how to use them." Bashir gently squeezes Gerard's elbow before putting away his tricorder and taking two things out of his bag - a tube and a box.

"The first thing we're going to do is settle you into a routine." He picks up the tube, uncaps it and squeezes some of a clear, cool gel into one hand. Gesturing towards Gerard to pass him back his arm, he smooths the gel on, working it into the spots where the scarring is thickest. "This is a silicone-based product that you can put on once a day, usually in the morning, after you shower. What I'm trying to do here is 'break up' the tightest parts of the scar, because those tend towards being the most discoloured."

Gerard hadn't expected Julian to show up with an actual action plan to start right now, just a consultation and maybe an 'I'll see what I can do', and the way his eyes widen a bit shows how surprised he is by having something to try right now. He holds out an arm to Julian when gestured to do so, watching carefully to see of there's any kind of special technique to rubbing it in or of it's just like lotion.

"How much of it do you have? I don't exactly have a small area to cover," he comments, though he's already mentally prioritizing what to try for first and what to leave for later.

It works pretty much like lotion, but the way he works it in is more reminiscent of a massage than anything else. Yes, they want the goo to act as a barrier and trick the scarring into thinking it's just regular skin again, but they also need to break up the old, collagen fibres. "Right now, one bottle, but it's mostly made from silicon and, ah, I have an in with a company that manufactures a lot of silicon-based material."

"I'd say that it's a good idea to pick a place on your body, and just start with one general area. That way you'll be able to know if this is working - magic scarring may be different." He rubs in the last of the gel and then opens the box. "These are silicon sheets. They're thin and if you wash them after wearing, you can put them on for up to two weeks per sheet. They're best when you're not planning to move around for a while."

"In theory, you should see a change in two weeks."

The 'silicon-based materials' comment gets a laugh and a small head shake from him. Alright, that sounds reasonable. It isn't like Duplicity has a shortage of that kind of thing, and it makes him feel a little better about potentially needing so much.

"- Two weeks? Seriously? That fast?"

Bashir night be the one making comments about 'magic', but that sounds pretty magic as far as Gerard is concerned.

"What do I owe you for this?"

"Ideally, some change within that time, yes. Not a complete change, but if it's going to work, you should start to see something." He slips the gel sheet back into the box, closes it up and leaves it for Gerard. "And you don't owe me anything. This is what I do."

Fully automated luxury space communism has left an impact on Bashir's views of what is and isn't owed. "When you need more supplies, let me know. I'm still working with the factory to get a formula for the sheets that's a little better than the current one, but it's likely going to be hot pink or leopard print."

It is difficult to name the precise emotion that's crossing Gerard's face, and honestly even he couldn't say what it is. The possibility, the generosity, they're completely overwhelming to him right now and he doesn't know what to do with himself about it. He brings a hand up to rub his face before restlessly carding his fingers through his hair, staring down at the box and the tube Julian has just given to him like it isn't something Gerard has spent half a year getting his hopes up over only to have them crash back down again.

It might not work this time. It probably won't work this time. He'll keep telling himself that to try to keep from hurting again until he can see a change. It's still the trying though - and if it does work, hot pink or leopard print - or hot pink leopard print! - is a small aesthetic price to pay for them. He would still cover himself neck to foot with them if they work and happily so.

"... thank you," is all he manages at first when he does find his words again, voice thick with emotion and near tears. He pulls his shirt back on quickly, feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable and needing some kind of armor against that even if it's just a thin layer of cotton.

"You're very welcome. And, should anything happen to me, I've also written out instructions and left them in the box." People disappear, Bashir knows that it's a risk, and he's made sure to plan ahead. "It's also for your reference, so you know what it all is and why it's meant to work."

As Gerard gets himself dressed and works through his emotions, Bashir moves to give him some space. He returns to his seat and his tea, happy to let the moment rest for as long as it needs.

Gerard gives a stiff nod at Julian's instructions - that had been the problem the last few times, people had been willing to help and all of them had vanished before anything could come of it.

He worries what this will mean for Julian. He feels cursed this way, sometimes.

It takes him a few minutes to compose himself, sipping his tea, looking at the box and wondering at what the future would hold. If only Eames were here to see the progress.

He had to move the subject on before he started blubbering. Fuck.

"So, sadism, right?"

That would have to do.

Even if Julian does vanish into the ether, at least Gerard will have supplies and instructions on how to use them. It might not be much, but he'll have a prescription and plan of care written down that can be shown to other doctors.

The tea is good and there's no need to hurry; Julian is content to let Gerard have as long as he needs to compose himself. Then comes the other question they'd planned to talk about. "Ah, apparently."

"Crais has made a couple of comments about it, I tended to disagree, but those charming advertisements seem to have taken his side in the matter." Putting the mug down on the counter in front of him, he moves it a quarter turn and then picks it back up. "From a theoretical perspective, I've knowledge. And from a medical perspective, I've had to patch up my share of play gone awry. But, practical? I don't know."

"They do find the exact things we're insecure about that way," Gerard says with a wince about the Dom/Sub finders. The only bright-ish spot is almost everyone gets hit by them, so you know you aren't alone in suffering. He watches Julian fuss with his mug, on that note, feeling slightly better to no longer be the only one a little shy and vulnerable, here.

"I've definitely done far more kinky shit here than I ever did back home. Not that really, not yet, uh. But. I have a stupid high pain tolerance along with the scar tissue areas being a little numb, so... I guess I've always been kind of interested?"

"I've certainly had more sex here then I'd bothered with in a long time." Just faintly, up over his cheekbones and at the base of his throat, there's just a hint of a blush. "I'm, hmm, I'm still not used to talking about my sex life, not quite so frankly."

"Previously, I've tended towards more of an interest in what my partner prefers -- which I still very much like, of course -- but, I'm still working out what I like." Help, Gerard. He's not too sure what he wants to say here, and it's tripping him up. "And, my previous partners have tended towards the less kinky, by most human standards, that is."

"Oh, my previous Dominant was all over that whole 'it's about what you like not what I like' - which was fine except I ended up with a complex for like a month worried he was only doing things because I enjoyed them before I got him to talk about what he liked," Gerard said with a small grin. Bashir blushing is cute, alright, he has to tease a little.

"What have you done that you enjoyed?"

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