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While most days are slow as far as business is concerned (which is exactly how Able likes them) today has been very different. After being woken up in the wee hours by a mother with a little boy who had stabbed himself with some scissors, he treated an overdose, set and casted a broken femur, and stitched up a razor slash from a jilted lover.
Now that things have settled out, his clinic is blissfully empty and quiet. Loud mornings lead to an appreciation for the quieter things in life. Again, things have been tidied up and everything has a freshly scrubbed look, including the Doctor. He's recently changed into fresh slacks, a crisp shirt, and a narrow tie with a stylish tack.
*
Elizabeth was a woman of her word, so much so, that Able didn't have to wait ages for his promised payment. Like clockwork, somewhat, she arrives at the clinic once all is said and done. Her own work day was over, and after spending a few hours at her mother's home, she's now here, dressed for the weather, and carrying a covered dish in her hands. Entering, she shakes and shivers from the transition, and that 'clean' smell hits her nose much like it had the day before. But now, something else arrives with her; something warm and smelling of spiced fruit and buttery, sugar crusted pastry.
"Doctor?" Her voice calls, almost sing-song in tone. A few more steps forward and she looks at the main desk before eyeing off toward side rooms and what might be an office area. "Doctor Able? It's Betty Brant. We met yesterday?" She explains, reminding the possibly busy man of who she was exactly.
*
"As if I could forget you." Able's smile is subtle, but it's there. As usual, his sleeves are rolled back and his tie is loosened. His hands are in his pockets when Betty arrives, and while he glances at the dish he's holding, he resists the urge to take it. "You're a woman of your word, I see. That smells amazing."
He hesitates for a half-moment, then he steps closer and offers to take Betty's coat. "I didn't think I'd see you so soon," he admits. "I'm glad I was wrong."
*
"Thank you. Old recipe. You know, I bet it'd weird some people out that I can bake, too." She muses, more so to herself, and sets the dish, and her handbag, down, so that her arms and slip free of her coat. Her attire is fitting for a woman that keeps herself looking at least a bit fasionable. The dress is fitting, its skirt reaching down to just about her nylon clad knees, and its sleeves reach down to under the joint of her elbows. Pale blue with hints of lavender, her pumps match the look, as do the tips of her fingers. Her hair is up, styled slightly, curled and swept away from her face.
"I'm glad you were wrong, too, handsome. Ma sends her regards." She winks, and after staring at Able for a moment, she steps closer to him. "May I?" Before given an answer, she reaches up and corrects the knot of his tie, not tightening it persay, but just straightening it to become more flush with his collar. "There we are. Perfect. I won't stay for too long if you're busy, Doctor, but I did want to bring by your payment. As promised."
*
Able stiffens when Betty grabs him by the tie, but it's very brief. He even offers an apologetic glance and reaches up to stall her hand before she can withdraw. "No. No, I'm not busy at the moment. I'm glad you're here."
He clears his throat and lets her go, leaving him free to hang her coat while she settles in. "You know," he ventures. "I love to cook. Even baking. I can't make a decent pie crust to save my soul, though. I've been looking forward to this."
*
Betty glances from her hand to his, her stormy eyes taking in his features and offering a kind, steady smile. Once he pulls away, she brushes at her cheek which have taken on a rosey hue; perhaps it was simply due to the cold outside. "What do you enjoy cooking? Pie crust is easy, and I'm sure I could teach you how to make one if you'd like." Pacing through the clinic, she curiously ganders here and there, taking in more details than she had the day before.
"Well, the whole thing is yours, so enjoy. I can even make you some coffee to go along with it. Oh! You should try it with ice cream sometime, too. Especially vanilla-bean." She raves, turning to face Able more directly. "Shall I…leave you to it then, doctor? I hope I'm not interupting anything."
*
"No." Able pauses to clear his throat. "I mean… No, you're not interrupting. I'm glad you stopped by."
%RA few heartbeats pass before he realizes he has a question to answer. "Ahem. I do love making sweets, I must admit. And breakfast. As much as I enjoy a good steak or an amazing pile of pasta, I think breakfast is the most delicious meal of the day."
He hasn't turned to face Betty since he took her coat, but he does now. "If you'd like to share your secrets, I'd be happy to learn them."
*
"Pancakes. You can never go wrong with a good stack of flapjacks. Or, or…waffles. With some whipped cream and berries?" She rattles off, thinking of her own personal favorites, and finally walker closer to be in a more conversational distance from Able. "I'm also a fan of crepes. What about you, Doctor? What're your favorites?" After another bright smile, she can't help the melodic chuckle that passes her lips at his last comment. "How forward of you," she teases with a wink. "Secrets for secrets, doctor. That's fair, right?" Another glance around, she nibbles into her lower lip before focusing on Able anew. "If you're not busy, would you dare to venture away from your clinic for a few hours? I asked about that date, remember? And you already have pie, and I'm here now. How about two birds with one stone, hmm?"
*
"French toast." Able's answer is no less honest for being a few seconds delayed. He reaches up to run a hand along his stubbled cheeks and chin. "With too much butter and piles of maple syrup."
His shrug is sheepish enough to be boyish. Now that Betty is closer, he takes another step in as well. "We all have our vices. As for today, yes. I'd love to join you. I might even tell you another secret or two."
*
"As much as I adore sweets, I'm not much of a syrup person. I think it's a bit too…hmm, rich for me? Butter, though, I'm surprised I don't sweat the stuff sometimes." She jibes at herself, keeping her eyes up and on his expression as the pair speak. "Ooooh. I do love secrets. Sometimes I'm too curious for my own good. So, you've been warned, Doctor." Glancing toward the door, and the pie, she comes back around to Able. "You should put your pie away, then tell me what you'd like to have for dinner. I'll get us a cab." Reclaiming her jacket, she pulls it back on and over her arms, securing it snuggly. "By the way, you look devilishly handsome with that five-o'clock shadow."
*
Able needs no second bidding. He has the pie tucked away into a low cupboard and retrieves his jacket in record time. "If you want to warn me away, you'll have to try harder than that."
He resists the urge to look Betty in the eye, but there's a smile on his face as he leads them toward the door. "Take me somewhere that makes you smile. I'm easier to please than I look. I live for a proper hot dog or an amazing streetside taco."
*
A strong hand stops her before she can lead them too far. His grip on her elbow is gentle, but insistent enough to turn her toward him. "You look beautiful no matter what hour it is." It's a direct statement, without preamble, and he averts his eyes shortly after. "Let's go."
*
"Noted." Once he's ready, she nods his way and exits. Stopping, feeling the pressure of his grip on her arm, she looks first at it and then up and into his eyes. Blushing, the woman smiles shyly, before clearing her throat and nodding. "Let's." Door shut, the night air of the city greets them. Without pause, or hesitation, she hugs up around one of his arms and starts to lead him down the sidewalk. "I know just the place. It's a bit chilly, though, so after a quick dish, I'll take you somewhere else."
It only takes a few blocks before she brings him to a side cart selling dogs. She greets its vendor by name, and even makes small talk introductions. Her order taken, she looks to Able as he gives his own. The two don't wait for too long before their dogs are presented to them. Paying, for this and without allowing otherwise, she starts up their walk once more, now slower, as she takes time to bite and chew from her snack. "It's not Philly, but sometimes, I really love it here."
*
The Doctor is happy to lean into Betty's grip during their short walk. When it's his turn to order, he isn't shy about the toppings. He glances over at his partner in crime and shoots her a small smile before he digs in. After two bites, he belatedly reaches up to wipe one corner of his mouth. "S'good," he says, proving that he's still not quite finished with that second bit. The closest thing he can do to being gentlemanly is to hold one hand up in front of his mouth, but he quickly gives up and goes back to enjoying himself.
When he's finally cleared his palate, he glances over at his date and gives a small shrug. "Home is a hard concept to nail down. Or so I'm told."
*
"It is." She agrees, not seeming the least bit hesitant to enjoy her own meal. It was a bit more slack with toppings, but hey, it was her dog after all. Her cheeks round now and then when she takes a few too big bites, but after chewing, she swallows them away and pauses by a bin to clean off her ruby lips with a napkin, and to toss away her refuse. "They have the whole 'where the heart is' saying, but I'm honestly not sure that my heart is here. Or in Philly."
Keeping up with his strides, she links her arm to his once he's done and free, leading them down another line of sidewalks and stopping at crosses each time to make sure their path was clear. "Mom's here. Bennett is here. My jobs here, hopefully career, too. But I see this place as…well, a place. I wasn't born here, and I like it well enough, but I don't think finding a place to 'belong' has happened yet. I wouldn't cry if I had to pack up and ship out tomorrow."
*
It doesn't take long for Able to finish his hot dog. The last bite leaves him with a relaxed and pleased look on his face. "That was good," he admits.
A few seconds pass before he glances back over at Betty. Before he speaks, he snugs her arm a bit tighter through his own. "I don't know what home is supposed to feel like," he admits. There's a brief clearing of his throat, then a shrug. "I've never had one. Not really. This feels nice, though."
*
"Yeah? How come?" She accepts the tighter hold, matching his gait with her own as they continue on their travels to no where in particular. "Scratch that. Only talk about that if you want. I'm not that nosey, I swear." One arm woven with his, her hand reaches up and rests on its side, now in fully contact with his limb as they travel. Looking to her side, and up, her heels don't exactly help much with their height difference. Some, yes, but not all.
"I don't I had much of a home, either, to be honest with you. I had to grow up fast, and I think sometimes, you learn what 'home' means as a kid." A pause, she smiles and gives his arm a soft squeeze. "I agree. This does feel nice. I'm sure ma would be very proud of me."
*
"Our vast difference in height intrigues me," Able admits. The squeeze from Elizabeth elicits a pause of his own, where he stops her and gentle pressure turns her to face him. "You deserve to know more about me if you want to. I prefer to be honest with my friends, or with anyone I'm close to."
He tries to make it a casual statement, but there's a tightness around his eyes that belies his light tone. Still, he's smiling as he releases her and resumes their casual walk.
*
"Men and women are different, doctor. I figured you'd know that." She jokes, stalling in place and paying attention. Nodding, she starts moving once more, and soon brings him to a small cafe on the edge of a city block. It was cold, after all, and she had commented about wanting to not linger in the night for too long.
Claiming a table, she shivers and begins to remove her gloves and jacket. "I love winter, but I hate it." She admits, looking over toward Able once he settles in to join her. "I'll bite. Tell me about yourself, Able. Why do you feel like you never had a home?"
*
No matter the weather, Able is still a gentleman. He takes Betty's coat for her and drapes it across the back of her chair before he relieves himself of his own. There's a few seconds of silence while he gets their outgarments situated and settles into his seat. Then he lets out a quiet sigh and rakes his fingers through his already unruly hair. "I'd tell you if I thought you'd believe me," he answers, and honestly from all appearances. "I'm… different."
*
"Dollface, you're in New York. There's…a lot to be believed these days. You seen the news? Or looked outside? Monsters, Gods, Heroes walk the earth now." She explains with a rueful pursing of her lips. Crossing her legs, she scoots a bit closer to the table, and then rests her arms on its top, crossing them casually. The conversation pauses if only for her to place an order for herself to the visiting waitress.
Order made, she grins in thanks and then returns her attentions to Able. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You're not obligated, and honestly, we did just meet yesterday. I'm flattered that you'd trust me already, but you do what makes you comfortable."
*
"I don't know what makes me comfortable," Able admits. He halts his train of thought long enough to order coffee, then waits until he and Betty are alone before he continues. "I don't know enough about myself to know if I should be comfortable or uncomfortable right now."
That's the sort of admission that comes from the core. Able shrugs and glances up. There's a rueful smile on his face as he pulls in a deep breath. "I don't feel obligated to do anything when you're around. I like that. I'm sorry if this all seems like a bit much for one sitting."
*
Listening to his admissions, all she can do is nod now and then, acknowledging what he's saying. She's attentive, very much so, and doesn't pull her focus from him for an instant. She only looks away once their drinks arrive, and soon comes the promise of something warm to share for food sake; tonight it's French Toast and Waffles.
"I'm use to taking heaping spoonfuls of just about anything on a daily basis, Able. It's my job." Reach over, she rests her hand out, and up, palm exposed, offering him a 'hold', or 'grip' of support should he wish for it. "Is that how you're different? Emotional detachment?"
*
"Among other things," Able admits. "It's difficult to describe. I'm…"
Where he should be doing more explaining, instead he reaches out to lay his hand on top of Elizabeth's. It's not a grip, or even a hold. His palm barely brushes hers for the first few heartbeats.
He clears his throat, then continues. "You use words like 'gods' and 'heroes'. 'Monsters.' Is it fair to say that I don't know which I am? I wasn't born, I was designed. Built."
*
Elizabeth closes the space, her fingers wrapping around his hand and offering him some stability, even as the pair sit at the same table. It's support, clear and simple, her digits still steely and cold from being outside. She doesn't rush him, and keeps her eyes on his face. Coffee arrives and she doesn't break her lock on him, even if she murmurs a 'thank you' to the waitress.
"No one knows who they are, but it's up to them to choose what they become, I think." His last words cause her brows to slope with a hint of confusion. "What do you mean, 'built'?" Her fingers press on his hand more so now as it's become something of study. "Like a machine?"
*
Able's fingers are warm to the touch despite the chill in the air. To that end, he cups his other hand around Betty's. He doesn't look up when he speaks; instead he seems intent on studying their shared grip. "Not unlike a machine," he admits. "I was designed. Put together to suit a need. I'm not sure what that means, except that I'm different. It seemed fair to tell you that."
Now he finally does look up. He shrugs helplessly. His expression is difficult to misinterpret. He's shooting from the hip and hoping for the best.
*
"And what's your purpose?" She follows up, keeping their hands together, and even adding her own, making all four rest together, their drinks still at their sides. "I mean, what do you think your purpose is, personally. Your clinic? To be a doctor?" She pauses, "Different is good. Some people might be afraid of it, but I'm not." She promises, finally welcoming him with a new, sweet, smile. "Like I said, tell me whatever you want. I don't scare easy."
*
"I believe you." Able lets out a small, quiet chuckle. "What the hell, why not? I was an experiment. A failed experiment by clinical standards."
Rather than upset, he seems at peace with whatever this admission entails. It's a secret many would carry to their grave, but most people wouldn't open a clinic with no legal degree or medical license, nor would most people freely offer their services to those who need them most. "Now I'm happy enough being a doctor," he says. "More than happy."
*
Elizabeth glances around, just seeing who was around them. She breaks their connection, if only to change seats, and now sit beside him instead of across from him. "I don't understand. You're so good at your job. I noticed how smooth and methodical you were yesterday. How does that make you a failure?"
Reaching for her drink, she finally blows over its top and sips. "I'm glad that makes you happy. You're very, very good at it, and I'm thankful you were there. I don't know what I would have done for ma if I hadn't heard your name."
*
Able's smile is a grateful one. He bobs a similarly grateful nod to Betty before he responds. "Thank you. I'm glad I was able to help. She… You. You both needed it."
A great many subjects are glossed over rather than explored. It seems simpler at this point. Again, he looks down at their joined hands and gives a small squeeze that's coupled with a laugh. "I hope you'll let me know how she's doing. She almost stole me away from you, you know."
*
"She's a peach." Betty smirks, then giggles and tsks, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth. "Did she now? Didn't know you were mine to steal." Pulling one hand away, she keeps to her cup and starts enjoying her coffee. Soon enough, their food arrives; French Toast for him, and a waffle with cream for her (strawberries are out of season).
"Able," she murmurs softly, reclaiming both hands and cutting at her dish before eating at the slices like one might a pizza. "How much of you is human? To me, you don't seem to be any different than most men I run into. At least not physically." Eating, she dabs her lips and eyes him once more. "You're warm and you blush…I'm still having a hard time seeing how you'd 'fail' anything."
*
"Oh, I'm mostly human. More than human, even." Able's smile is self-directed now, and it's taken on a bit of an edge.
When his plate arrives, he cuts himself a delicately sized bite of French toast. The seconds it takes to chew and swallow buy him some time to think of a better explanation. "It's up here where things go sideways," he finally says, tapping his temple. "I don't know… how to do this." The last bit comes with a gesture that spans the distance between the two of them. "But I wish I did. I hope you'll be willing to teach me."