outsiderslogs | Clinic Post [OPEN]

Entry tags:

Clinic Post [OPEN]

who. Anybody!
what. Anything having to deal with the Clinic/Daily workings/Bothering Mordin
where. Mordin's Clinic
when. Anytime! Feel free to backdate or forward date!
warnings. Potential description of injuries/healing them. Will add others as necessary!

[ooc: This an open clinic post for Mordin! It doesn't matter what time your character shows up he'll be there! People just wanting to talk to Mordin are welcome to bug him too. Action spam or prose, doesn't matter.]

There was no shortage of people that needed the expert opinion of a medical doctor on Omega. It just so happened, Mordin was also one of the best and even though his clinic was still growing; it was busy at times. There were a number of his assistants bustling about at any given time but that was good. It meant there was business and it meant people were being helped.

Mordin was almost always in his clinic. He spent a grand total of two hours sleeping and some days, well, it just didn't happen. There were more important things to do than waste time asleep. The people of Omega needed him and there was always since to be done. He was always open to conversation and visitors so long as he wasn't with a patient.

So here he is, if anyone needs him, muttering under his breath about some science thing or another.

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[Having been seen in by the receptionist, Dun heads over to the room Mordin's in and knocks. It seems like the good doctor's practice is attracting a lot of people's attention; the place seems busier than it was the last time he checked in. Hopefully he'll have time for a repeat patient.]

[WELL MORDIN there's certain green dude here chatting with your receptionist. He's looking probably a little less concerned than he should be about the bleeding gash under his horn and the ugly bloody hole in his shoulder armor.

Well whatever. Kirrahe had been wanting to see the clinic anyway, and now he had a good excuse to harass the good professor.]

Today the clinic's receptionist might find itself with a rather unusual visitor. What would a mech - a sapient one at that, have any business doing in a medical center for organics?

Well, he didn't seem interested in disclosing any details at the door. Prowl insisted that he needed to see the salarian doctor to discuss the use of any spare lab equipment, and that was it. He was willing to pay or trade for it if necessary. Unusual, but despite the secrecy, the request could hardly be called hostile. He was just being cautious.

With him were supplies equally as odd. One was easily recognizable: a starship-grade spare hydrogen fuel cell. The fuel tank was the smallest one could buy, but it was still a rather sizable barrel at around Prowl's own height. The other was a little stranger and much smaller. It was tightly closed flask of glowing, pink fluid.

[Mordin always has time for repeat patients. Really, those are the most important because it means he's done something right before and they're the ones that push new business in his direction.

Plus, he just likes to help everyone. He'll see everyone in the waiting room at some point or already has.

Mordin turns towards the door.]

Unnecessary to knock. Expecting you. Welcome to simply come in next time. Quite certain of repeat visits. Clearly trouble finds you easily.

[Bleeding patients get his priority, surprise surprise, so he's actually summoned by one of his assistants out to the waiting area.

He frowns at Kirrahe as he comes out and the green blood running down his face. There's going to be scolding, sorry.]

Did not need excuse to visit clinic. Perfectly welcome without injury.

[Now he'll be shooing him a little towards the back.]

Removal of armor necessary. Wound requires cleaning.

[Dun bristles at that last comment; whether it was said in jest or not, he doesn't like being labelled a trouble-maker.]

I care not for trouble and I certainly do not go looking for it.

[And of course, his ribs take that moment to remind him that the last time he was in the clinic was because of his own actions. With a slight growl he enters the room and passes his request to Mordin.]

I want to know how I'm doing.

Mechs were usually an alarming sign; no matter what their intent actually was and especially considering that AIs technically were banned under the Council laws. Mordin wasn't terribly concerned about it. Besides being a scientist, he worked with Shepard and that meant direct interaction with Legion.

Of course, this didn't mean he was just going to hand over his important and rare equipment to just anybody. It wasn't going to leave the lab.

He heard them creating a fuss out in the waiting and that usually meant a merc trying to extort money. Mordin strode out of the back with nothing but his omni-tool activated and glanced over the stuff the mech brought with him. He assumed from that alone that this wasn't going to be a problem; he was ready either way, but he defaulted to medical professional.

"Welcome to clinic. How can I help?"

[No judgment from Mordin. In his younger days he'd been quite difficult and had caused several problems. He can still be pretty stubborn, just have to catch him in the right mood.]

Apologies, did not mean to offend. Trouble finds everyone on Omega.

[Mordin gestures to the table.]

Please take seat.

[He raises his omni-tool again and taps at it quickly. Soon enough, another one of those holograms of a human appears above it.]

[Placated by the apology, Dun calms down and does as Mordin asks. He watches as the light image appears above the omni-tool, lights blinking and glowing. It's strange to see how medicine has advanced to this stage; in his days, all the doctor had was a chart with all the important nerve points highlighted on the body. It made him wonder how much more people knew this days than before.

Still, medicine isn't his field and he'd rather get himself patched up rather than discuss human anatomy.]

I did as you asked.

[Best to be truthful to the doctor.]

...mostly. The recent attack by those blue creatures required me to take action. I was more careful to not get hit where I was injured, but my bones still ache.

[Scold all you want, you old toad. Kirrahe gives negative fucks.]

I hardly went looking for an excuse, professor.

[He looks slightly annoyed by said shooing, but won't protest. He had come in for treatment after all.]

Obviously. I may require assistance with that, I'm having difficulty lifting my arm.

Prowl glances from whatever conversation he was just having with the receptionist, abruptly ending what he considered to be the less important discussion. He was never much of a socialite.

"Mordin Solus?"

The question is rhetorical. Of course it's him, who else would it be? He turns around to face the salarian and steps a few paces forward with the flask in hand. That glowstick juice looks about as stable as the fuel tank he brought with him.

"I could use access to your lab equipment. Temporary access. It is best if the details are discussed in a more private setting."

"Indeed. Run clinic, only doctor present. Admit unfamiliarity with species," he frowns and tips his head slightly as he examines Prowl's frame. Mentally he's comparing it with other known types of mechs and AIs.

His attention shifts to the flask and oops, his omni-tool might be scanning it. Superstitiously, of course, for now.

"Discussion required before use of equipment. Will have privacy in treatment room," Mordin turns suddenly and heads towards the back. Keep up Prowl!

Appear to have found one anyway.

[That's Professor Doctor old toad to you, youngin. Mordin takes the irritation in stride. Has he mentioned it's good to see you Kirrahe? Because it actually is even if he doesn't say it. Capable allies are always good.

He leads him into the treatment room at the back and examines the armor.]

Can imagine. Damage seems localized to area. Will be safer, less painful, to remove in pieces.

[Mordin does appreciate the cooperation. It's much better than having to physically wrangle patients up onto the table or sedating them to manage the same. Can you imagine the skinny salarian doing that to anyone? Usually he has an assistant but krogan are pretty heavy.

He listens to Dun as he eyes the read-out.]

Adjutants formidable at best, deadly at worst. Difficult to kill. Hiding also problematic. [He comments by way of saying, yeah it's cool. He doesn't blame you for defending yourself or others from them.] Ribs remain injured but healing appears to be progressing. No major set-backs from activity. No lasting damage. Minor strain, would attempt to rest as much as possible next seven days. Give time to heal further. Still have medication provided?

It would be more accurate to say that it found me.

[don't give me no lip doc. Kirrahe's already started loosening his magical space frog armor where he can. how do they even put this shit on it is a space mystery]

I had enough medi-gel to take the edge off. Don't concern yourself with the pain too much.

[He just wants this fixed quick so he can be on his way]

Yes. I'm nearly through the pills you gave me. I was wondering if you have anything stronger.

Kengo had put this off for far too long.

During the attack and even afterwards, he had heard about the clinic and routed people there when they needed help. He didn't know about the sort of person who ran it, but it had to be better than nothing. He had been on Omega for nearly a month and now was the only time he had found to go to the clinic for himself. In the beginning, he'd been too lost, then the attack had happened, and then he'd found a job that took up most of his time. All of that, combined with someone arriving from his own world, and he was strapped to find time for himself.

Not that he really wanted it, considering what he assumed his emotional and mental state to be in. His attacks were still happening -- increasingly so, it seemed. Kengo had put his name on the list and waited for half an hour or so, nervously picking at the sleeve of his jacket. The king of the infirmary had waited so long to go to the clinic -- his friends would have been amused by that, he thought.

When it was his turn, Kengo carefully shuffled into the room, one hand in his pocket as he stayed close to the door. How was he supposed to handle something as unfamiliar as this?

An optic ridge rises in puzzlement as Mordin observes him and scans the flask, but does nothing to stop him.

In any other place, he probably would have left the supplies with the receptionist and followed. But considering this was Omega, it was a statistical risk he was not willing to take, even if the clinic was considered safe. That shit ain't cheap.

He was a few paces behind as he took the time to pick up and carry the fuel tank, but it didn't take long before he caught up with both containers in hand.

[It's probably common to see asari in the clinic but not everyday that Liara is sitting patiently in the waiting room. She's already checked in with the nurse but she's looking a little more worn down than usual. That might be because of the nice gash on her crown and a couple of thick bandages hiding some rather bad burns along her arms and hands. They look sore and she's just going to be patient until Mordin comes around.

She really doesn't want to talk about how she managed to get so banged up.]

[Hawke's been in time and time again to help Mordin and the others in the clinic with whatever she can. Science isn't her specialty in the least but Mordin's given her a chance. That's all she can really ask for at this point, after all. But she's also noticed that Mordin's never taking breaks, never stopping, always going.

She's wrapping bandages when there's finally some downtime for her to speak up.]

I don't know how you can keep going. Aren't you exhausted?

[Ashlynn had been directed to the clinic some time ago, but only just felt up to making her way there. Between the bouts of sudden sickness, needing to make money so she could eat, and general confusing about where things were located, she just hadn't managed to get there any sooner.

Once she had, though, she stood around staring - looking rather like a bumpkin - and trying to figure out what all the things she was seeing was for. She was terribly curious and very tempted to reach out and touch a few things...]

[ooc: sorry for the late tag in, been really busy.]

Trouble often follows STG agents. Important soldiers. Critical to salarian espionage and preservation.

[Oh Mordin knows how it goes. Trouble has found the clinic more than once.

He'll give him a hand with his magical space frog armor where necessary. His omni-tool scans and blips as he does.]

Medi-gel began healing processes. Still wish to ensure avoidance of infection.

Hm. May have something stronger. Difficult to get in distributable quantities. Wished to avoid opiates. Dangerous to use in long term. Must also follow directions exactly.

[Mordin raises a hand to his chin while he considers.]

Creation of iatrogenic addiction frowned upon.

Unfortunately for Kengo, Mordin was not exactly your run of the mill doctor or at least not like any human might find on Earth. Alien through and through and a little odd even for his own species. However, he was an excellent and reputable physician. One of the best if he said so himself. He cared about his patients--even if sometimes it was only so long as they were in the clinic, mercs were mostly just a pain--but he knew there were some on Omega simply as a product of misfortune.

With the war and new arrivals, well, he could tell the difference. Nice, genuine people lived on Omega even if it did have a bad rap. Some people just couldn't afford more. Those Mordin definitely cared about helping.

Hopefully, Kengo wouldn't be alarmed by six feet, seven inches of scared salarian towering over him. Mordin hunched a little when he stood but not enough to really downplay his height.

"Afternoon. Please take seat on table. Request concise description of ailment." He smiled as he asked. Bedside manner and all that, but careful, or you'll get him rambling.

Edited (UGH I HIT ENTER AND I WASN'T DONE.) 2013-04-02 21:14 (UTC)

He didn't blame the mech for keeping his things as close to his person as possible. None of it appeared to be terribly dangerous on its own and Mordin could handle himself. He didn't leave the clinic often for concern of his equipment going missing again and his receptionists and assistants were vetted as well as possible. Omega was home to any number of thieves, besides, he could hardly explain what he was after without it.

There was plenty of room for Prowl to set his stuff down once they were actually in the labesque area that Mordin had set up.

"Assure are private. Personally adhere to doctor-patient confidentiality ethics. Uncertain if applicable to current situation but will guarantee it anyway. Will keep information to myself as necessary." And maybe the STG if he could get back in contact with them.

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Clinic Post [OPEN]

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can we backdate til about a week ago?

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Yep that's just fine!

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Always late... Can we backdate to just after the invasion?

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some random day in late march

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