Ivan blinked off the effect of the pipe smoke as one blinks off weariness on a bright morning. With him he caried his medicine bag with an abridged sample of the tools of his trade. The day had been suprisingly quiet at the surgery, which allowed him perhaps too much time for contemplation, with which his pipe was an inseperable companion.

As he was finally feeling lucid and sober he noticed the purple house. Once Ivan neared the entrance he was presented with a fresh looking sign, confirming that this was indeed the dwelling of the seamstress he had met that morning. Ivan knocked a neutral and casual rhythm on the door, trying not to sound too forceful or formal.

Fion heard a knock on the door and put down the pair of pants she was hemming, carefully pushing her needle through the fabric so she wouldn't lose it. She stood up carefully, stretching with her arms held wide and walked to the door.

"Hello, how can I help y...?" Fion started, before realising it was Ivan."Oh, Ivan! It's good to see you, please come in."

Fion opened the door wider, Ivan could see that her house was clean but faily cluttered. A few childish drawings of varying degrees of accomplishment were peppered around and a bander wolf was sitting on the floor, tail wagging. The kitchen table was just visible through the corridor.

"So, what can I do you for?" Fion asked as she shut the door behind him. "Glad you found the place ok. Just so you know, the woman across the road saw you come in and will likely make a note of every time you do so."

Ivan smiled politely and waited for the invitation before he made to move inside. He was of the opinion that when one was working away from the office, the job and all the responsibilities that it entailed came along, and so for house calls he felt obliged to make every effort to be professional.
This of course, was no normal house call, but it was certainly intended to seem like one.

"Good afternoon, Miss Smith."



Ivan swiftly surveyed the surroundings, making mental notes, but made sure not to peer for too long - he knew better than most that it was a bad idea to scan a place in such a manner upon arrival - it invited far too much suspicion and seemed rude.



Ivan once again found himself impressed by the seamstress. He hadn't even spotted the woman in question as he arrived, but then tar tended to dull one's surroundings even hours later. He also noted that the matter-of-fact way she informed him of the witness was also meant as a warning to him, and that she did not yet fully trust him. So far these were all points in her favour.

"Thank you, I had no trouble finding it. I would very much like to see young Piran, is he home? And afterwards if you have time, perhaps you could help me replace my somewhat pirate-like wardrobe."

Fion took a moment to walk into her work room and wave cheerily across the street at Miriam. She mouthed the word 'Hiiiiiiiii' at her. Gods, she hated Miriam.

Fion turned back to Ivan.

"By lunchtime she'll have told everyone we're having an affair." Fion said, fanning her hands out in fake surprise.

Fion gave Ivan a quick once over. "Yes, we should do something about that. People in Vienda care a lot about appearances when they don't know you well. Looking normal for awhile will help you integrate, then you can go back to dressing however you please."

Fion looked upstairs, brow furrowing.

"Piran is upstairs, playing. He's been spending a lot more time up there than he usually does. I'll go get him." Fion walked over to the ladder-like stairs that lead up to Piran's room. "Hey Piran, could you come down for a little while, the doctor's arrived for your check up."

Ivan's facial muscles experienced a brief civil war over control of his expression. It ended in a kind of screwed up smile, betraying discomfort, which he desperately tried to cover with a nervous chuckle.



For an instant, pure terror gripped Ivan. What was she doing? Had she brought him to this house on false pretence? Did she even have a son?

The next instant, he realised that she was analysing his clothing, and had seamlessly transitioned away from casual talk of affair. Ivan checked himself for his brief hyperbolic spasm of thought.



Was she implying that I prefer these clothes..? Perhaps she didn't believe my story. Which would surely make her suspicious of me...I must be careful.


Ivan had a few spare moments to look around. He noticed a great degree of character in all the things he glanced, and then Ivan's eyes came to rest on the bander wolf. He had never really felt a connection with animals, but decided it would be best to make pleasantries.

"A fine creature you have there! What is it's name?"

Fion gave him a wry look.

"You... Don't spend much time around women, do you?" She said, voicing it as gently as she could. It wasn't a reprimand but more a question of his knowledge. "I'm an unmarried woman in a district predominantly full of couples and families. Whenever I talk to anyone the lady across the road thinks I'm getting down to something."

Fion bit her lip and smiled at him.

"Relax, for Pete's sake. I'm seeing the local spice merchant. If you don't calm down it'll be impossible for me to take your measurements."



Fion walked back over to Stride and rubbed his ears. Stride wagged his tail with increased glee, making a thumping sound against the floorboards.

"This is Stride." Fion said, giving the wolf a loving look.

Stride stood up and walked over to Ivan, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Stride's tail was still moving a mile a minute and he woofed once, in friendly manner.

So much for appearing professional.
Composure Ivan!

"I, er, heh, you could say that."

It had been several years since Yura and the messy feelings at the desert medical corps encampment. The door of memory threatened to creak open, and Ivan slammed it shut. Also quarantined in there was his ability to deal with women, he supposed.



"Yes of course."

His mind felt like a bar of soap being sqeezed by wet hands - it wanted a way out, and so he latched his focus onto the wolf, trying to let his face drain and his blood cool before any more human interaction. Unfortunately his interaction with animals wasn't much better.



Ivan mechanically patted the Dog's head. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable since he had the displeasure of dealing with the detestible clerk Quincy.

Fion left Ivan awkwardly patting her dog. She felt a little for the man, he didn't seem as comfortable around her as he had on his home turf. She decided she was going to have to tone things down, Ivan didn't enjoy her gentle teasing and she didn't want to upset him.

Well, unless she had to. They were comrades after all and she believed in tough love, sometimes.

Fion ascended the steps to Piran's room, skirt partly rolled up in her hand.

"Hey, Piran?" She called, head poking into his room. "Didn't you hear me? The doctor's here."

Ivan let out a breath that he had been holding onto for a while too long. Idiot. With a pause though, he had a chance to get back on balance. He took a couple more breaths that were slow and deep, and through pursed lips. This simulated some of the feeling of smoking and he felt the side effect of the association set in, as the skin of his scalp began to stretch back out and relax.

Stride was friendly enough and didn't seem to consider Ivan a threat, which was something, he supposed. He scratched gently behind it's ears; he had heard somewhere animals usually liked that.

Now settled, his mind turned to analysis once more. He peered intently at his surroundings. From the images around him, he guessed Piran's age at maybe nine or ten, remembering Fion had not yet told him.

Piran's shaggy black hair appeared over the banister. He shyly looked out at the doctor, a strange face, and his mother.

"Hi," he said quietly. Nervous, he stepped down a few stairs.

What if the doctor could see his field? What if he knew...?

Ivan had some experience with children, as he had once covered pediatric duty for a colleague, and it was important to be able to communicate with the young, else the job of a Doctor quickly became much more challenging.

"Hello, little man! My name is Doctor Mottoni. Are these drawings yours? I like this one of Stride!"

Ivan delibberately pointed at an area of wall where there were two drawings of the wolf, and it could not be seen which he referred to unless the boy came down further. He seemed shy, and children didn't much like medical attention, but getting people onto the subject of themselves was typically a fine remedy for shyness.

Piran was confused. This doctor was not demanding he sit still and be quiet. He was talking to him like an equal - well, except for the "little man" bit, a nearly unforgivable transgression in and of itself.

"Yes, I did them," he said, a small measure of pride in his voice. He was quite good at art for his age - everyone said so. "He wouldn't sit still, so I made up the legs a bit." He came down a few more stairs, staring calculatingly at the Doctor.

Fion sighed to herself before poking Piran very gently in the back.

"Go introduce yourself." She said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Properly."

Fion guided him closer to Ivan with one hand.

"Piran, this is Doctor Mottoni, he's here to give you a look over." Fion smiled as she looked at all the pictures Piran had up around the place, most of them presents to her.

Then she remembered that she actually was quite worried about Piran's health and that she'd need to organise some protocols with Ivan before he left.

"Hello!"

Ivan crouched and set down his medical bag, then extended his hand towards Piran.

"Your mother tells me you were very ill a while ago, so I'm here to do a boring medical exam."

Ivan slung his stethosocpe around his shoulders.

But first, lets play a game!"

"What game, sir?" asked Piran nervously.

"I want you to show me what's the sillies face you can pull."

Ivan screwed up his face, stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

"suthim ike is!"

Fion bit her lip, holding back a smile she was sure Piran wouldn't appreciate. She patted him gently on the shoulder and wondered where Ivan was going with this.

It was quite amusing. She liked that.

Piran looked skeptically at the doctor. What did he take him for, a clown? What good would a silly face do? He was almost ten years old, for clock's sake.

Still, seeing his mother's worried face, he decided it would be easier to just comply and get it over with. Puffing out his cheeks, he pulled his eyelids down and sucked in his lips to form a grotesque face.

Hah! That's a good face.
Well that certainly rules out lymphatic oslinosis, and hypnagogous. If it were the former, he'd not have the strength in his lips to puff his cheeks and hold them shut, and a common symptom of hypnagogous is yellowing under the lids.
Pupils are responsive, he seems lucid. Ok, now I'll check pharynx and oculomotor nerves - they could be damaged if he had wicosis.

"Not bad! But how far can you stick out your tongue? And can you roll your eyes into your head...like thiiiis?"

Ivan made his best zombie face, and waited for Piran to top it.

"Full well I can," he said, all pretense of being grown-up forgotten; he mimicked the doctor's expression, trying hard to outdo him.

Ivan let out a genuine laugh.

No scarring of the tonsils, oculomotor nerves are in good control.

"haha! that is truly grotesque. Piran, you have won! And here's your prize."

Ivan took the stethoscope from his shoulders and presented it to him.

"Have you ever seen one of these? Do you know how it works?"

Piran sighed when he saw the stethoscope; it didn't much look like something that could be played with.

"No, doctor," he said dutifully.

Stethoscopes did not tend to appear particularly exciting upon first inspection, which was understandable. Ivan carried on to explain its function.

"Well, young Piran, this is a device which allows you to hear what's going on inside your body! Here, put these things in your ears, and place that end on your chest. Tell me, what can you hear?"

Ivan had little doubt the boy would enjoy the gift.

Piran listened, and was surprised to hear the thump-thump of his own heart. It was beating rather fast; he had not realized how nervous he was.

"My heartbeat," he said, intrigued. "Why is that important?"

"You can tell a lot about a person from the rhythm of their heart - whether they're excited, or tired, or lying, for example. What does it sound more like to you? A march or a waltz?"

Ivan pointed to the lower right of Piran's ribcage.

"Try listening there too, and taking a deep breath. Does it crackle, or does it sound wet?"