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After an evening spent watching his DeSoto soak up bullets, Able brought Raven back to his clinic so he could properly treat her injuries. A few stitches, a few bandages, and a few injections have her on the mend, if not completely whole.
They'd gotten to know each other both before and after she'd been treated. Somewhere in the interim, Able carried her upstairs to his one-room apartment and put her in his own bed. While she rested, he was unable to sleep. He tended to his own minor wounds, then made a pot of coffee in the small kitchenette and retired to his desk.
He hasn't moved much since then. There's a sketchpad and a notepad in front of him, both of which have seen heavy use. He's been scribbling down notes, most of which related to last night's experiences. When words fail him, he switches his pen for charcoal and moves over to his drawing paper.
The doctor gave up on his suit not long after they arrived; now he's wearing a pair of comfortable linen pants that tie at the waist and a dark, close-fitting undershirt. His coffee has gone cold and he's hit a pause with writing and drawing alike.
*
It was in and out, her sleep. Every now and then she would turn in such a way that makes her remember why she actually was in the position she was in. Every now and then she would open her eyes, murmur something quietly, try to hold a conversation with the Doctor that treated her, and fall back into that same slumber that held her. Every now and then, she would try to complete her change, gaining little by little normal skin as she could, before sleep took her once again.
And yet this time, she was quiet. Her yellow eyes staring towards the ceiling, her half blue-half tan fingers digging into her brownish red hair which was tugged upright and stared at, until it flops gently against her bare shoulder. She was hungry, but much like any other time, there wasn't a need to eat. Only that need to get up, to stretch her limbs, and to eventually flee into a corner where she could carefully lick her wounds and be free of saving face in front of this unknown man..
Her hand slowly lifts as she stares towards it, her fingers curling, her vision gone shaky with flashes of a wasteland before her. Flashes of a different life, many different lives, lives lived through war and a certain domestication, and as a child or possibly somewhere in a desert. Her hand curls into a fist as she contemplates giving a.. nope. She does it. The fist that lands right upon her cheek three times in rapid succession to get those schizophrenic hallucinations to stop.
"Ach."
*
Very little escapes Able's notice under normal circumstances. These are not normal circumstances. He's so deep in thought that a takes a few seconds for the sounds coming from his bed to register. When they do, he perks up and shakes his head to clear it of cobwebs. He's on his feet an instant later and at the bedside just as quickly, though it's twenty feet behind where he was sitting.
"Hey." With his eyebrows pinched together and his smile just a little too tight, the doctor is more than just attentive. He's concerned. "Are you okay? Sounded like you had a rough wakeup." He has yet to comment on the peculiarities of Raven's appearance, though he has complimented. The peculiarities are different this morning, but the don't seem particularly surprising to him. Rather, he offers her a hand and adds, "You're looking a bit out of sorts, if you don't mind my saying."
*
Her ears perked to the sound of a body moving, her mismatched eyes darting towards her left and back towards the ceiling yet again as her hand drops against the bed. It was fast, he did say once that he was not normal. That he was not human, so why should she be so surprised that he moved as such?
She turns her head briefly to watch him, then away again towards the ceiling, her brows furrowing with a little bit of worry as she murmured out something akin to.. 'I'm fine' or 'I'm hungry'. Maybe it was a bit of both, but she does force a smile to shine through as she reaches out for the offering hand, using his grasp as an anchor to tug herself upright.
"I don't mind." She says quietly, clearing her throat just a little. "I feel out of sorts." She looks all around again, the continues to pull, right until she was up upon her very two feet. And it felt wonderful.
*
"Steady." Though it's hardly necessary, Able retains his hold until he's got Raven upright, along with a guiding hand at the small of her back. "I'm not surprised," he continues. Once he's convinced his guest is steady on her feet, he lets her go and chuckles quietly. "You had a full evening. I figured you'd be out for at least a couple more hours. How do you feel?"
While he speaks, he gives her a thorough visual inspection, though he limits it to the wounds he's already treated. It's easy enough to see that stitches are holding and no blood is spotting through her bandages. Though it's barely perceptible, he relaxes once he's reassured himself.
*
His careful words allow a bit of a nod, his helping hand appreciated. She was even looking towards her feet to ensure that she wouldn't fall over or practically collapse into his arm. "I feel hungry. Thirsty. Still tired. But I need to keep moving." She states, and slowly moves away from his grasp. His inspection of her is not without it's .. well, misses and oddity. While parts of her were still scaled and blue, there were other parts that were not. Her state of undress was not something that she was ever ashamed of, but for once she was searching for a bit of cloth instead of a blanket to cover herself with.
"But I have to say. You handle yourself well under pressure. I do not suppose it is because you are apparently a doctor." She continues to walk, taking everything slow, her hand upon the bandage as she crosses those paces towards his desk, leaning upon it with the flat of her palm to breathe out and roll her shoulders.
"And do not worry, I'm well aware I should not leave. It is worrying that it is taking me -this- long to recover."
*
"Tinker, doctor, soldier, spy," Able quips. "I'm a well-rounded individual."
A standing wardrobe offers the simple prerequisite of a dress shirt made for a much taller person. It's not the same as clothes, but it's something, so he offers it to Raven. "You can go if you want to, but I wouldn't recommend it. In the meantime, I made coffee and picked up some pastries," he pauses to nod in the direction of a flat cardboard box at the far end of the desk. "If you're hungry."
*
"Which war?" She asks, finally straightening with a bit of an effort, her grasp for the cloth was slow, putting it on was much slower. The dress shirt itself felt lovely against her skin, tugged over her bare bosom as shoulders lift as if she were being hugged. And then down. "I would have noticed someone of your calibur here in this city before. So you are a new arrival. Or are very well hidden." The chair that he once had was sat in, but not before she looked towards the box. Hesitantly, she reaches for it, but she declines for now. Instead? She takes his cold, untouched coffee. And drinks it without heating it.
*
This elicits a small smile and an eyebrow raise, but no comment about the state of the coffee. Instead, Able leans comfortably against his desk and answers the questions in the approximate order they were received. "I fought on the wrong side of more than one war before I came here," he acknowledges. "I've been in the city for about a year. As you've seen, I run a clinic, as well as offering a few additional services for preferred clientele."
As he speaks, he reaches for the pastries and plucks out a chocolate croissant. It's very fresh; clearly from this morning's baking. Warm, buttery scents fill the space between them as Able breaks it in two and sets both halves between them with a folded newspaper for their shared plate.
*
With a lean back in the chair, one slender leg lifts to cross over the other, her arm draped over the back of the chair as she creates a sort of lazy lean against it. One eyebrow lowers as she listens, the food that was broken up for her stared at and nose wrinkled. It was an odd sort of pastry, one that she herself hasn't ever bothered to taste. And she wasn't about to start now, so the paper itself, was pushed in his direction.
"What sort of services?" Now she was digging. "And you said many. As I said, I would have known someone with your resolve and spotted them from a mile away. From the calmness when you drove the car, the weaponry that you hold.. how you leaned out of the car and shot with precision." Her hand lifts and finger tip-taps against her temple. "What are you."
*
"I was an experiment. A plaything. Frankenstein's monster, if you're feeling whimsical." The declined tidbits are met with a shrug and a tip of the head from Able, then he pushes the paper further down the table. It appears that he's not hungry so much as he was attempting to be hospitable.
"I like to think that I'm good at what I do," he says, acknowledging the comments. He shrugs and glances across the room at a chair that has his shoulder holster and revolver slung across it. The burly old revolver has seen some knocks, but has obviously been well cared for. "In addition to discreet medical care, I offer combat and emergency extraction services. I also except outside contracts when it suits me."
*
"Or Pinnochio.." Raven quips. Cue her looking towards her hand again. With a slight little wince, a tilt of her head and a close of her eyes, her skin ripples and continues with the change of a more human seeming than before. This time, there was no show of blue. No show of red hair. No yellow eyes that would look back towards him, insecurity at it's finest. Sadly, the change of skin does not fix the scars and wounds that riddle her body.
"So you are something akin to a super soldier.." That was rich. Rich in the sense that everyone knew that the other countries were attempting to create another Captain America, but it seems that one had fled away from them. She was highly tempted to see if there was a bounty on his head.
"Consider me a client of yours. The past few nights notwithstanding.." She leans forward just a little, a grunt as she rises from her chair, the empty coffee cup taken with her as she searches the upper area. Water. She's seeking water. "..you've already got your payment the first night you brought me here." And a wink of her brow, and it was back to the search.
*
"Logical progression will lead Raven to the small fridge in the kitchenette, so Able doesn't bother with directions. Anything she needs that he has to offer can be found in there. "I feel appropriately compensated," he agrees, grinning. He straightens up and stretches out his rangy, limber frame, looking very much like a large housecat as he does.
"If you'd like to be a client, I'm happy to oblige," he offers. He glances up at Raven's eyes. "Come here or call whenever you need me. Or we can continue our trade once we're back on dry land.
*
Paydirt. The sink was approached and the water was allowed to run. Instead of the coffee cup, she ditches it for a much taller, larger cup. More volume, more to drink. Once a decent sip was gleamed from the glass, she refills it, then turns to lean against the counter top as she considers his words. "Dry land?" If there was a joke in there, her addled brain did not get it. She was in business mode now. "Considering that you're my physician now, I can assume that you're well versed in mutant biology? Or you would like to be." Her eye twitches ever so faintly. "I need you to look into my mind, or find.. something to fix this.." She gestures faintly. "I'll elaborate later, once the official payment starts, but I know for the sake of creating a workable professional relationship, we should quite possibly create a few ground rules."
She was feeling better. Sipping the water was at least bringing a bit of her appetite back. So it wasn't a surprise that she was approaching the box of pastries a bit after to pick it up and shake to see what was inside. A regular donut was taken out, then quietly munched upon. It -was- fresh. And it was good! This had her genuinely smiling as she takes her previous seat.
*
"I'm a competent geneticist and biologist," Able says agreeably. "My studies of mutant physiology are more recent, but I take them no less seriously."
He pauses and his eyes take on a thoughtful, thousand-yard look. "I'm not sure what you mean by looking into your mind. I'm no neurosurgeon." The doctor smiles at his own small joke. "My fees aren't negotiable, but I do accept weapons and medical supplies in trade. And information, of course. My rules are fairly simple. No lies. I can't help you if you lie to me. Better you refuse to answer a question than lead me in the wrong direction. And no military. I've seen enough American soldiers to last two lifetimes." He shrugs and spreads his hands, as if to say that this all seems reasonable to him. "And you? What are your rules?"
*
"It's a shame that you aren't." Raven murmurs quietly. But the other skills he did list could come in handy one day. Perhaps, if she could push him in the right direction…
"I deal in money. And arms as well, those aren't unreasonable requests. Information, I consider that a give and take, but we will see how that turns out. Depending on who and what you ask of.." She purses her lips in thought, one hand lifting to press a finger against those pursed lips, tapping out a quiet little cadence before speaking.
"What happened before cannot happen again.." In regards to the other night. "It's important to me. This business relationship and a physical relationship combined will not mesh well in the long run. I'd like to not deal in feelings. I'd also not like to worry about you and what you'd do if I do not see you for weeks on end."
Her hands lift, then fall again. "Other than that, be ready. And be descreet. What I share with you and what you find out about me, no one else need to know. And no military. And I'll try not to darken your doorstep with.. issues much like the other night. If you are to continue to work, on anyone, your safety and well-being is important."
*
"As you wish." One reply suffices for most of Raven's statements. Able does nod to recognize the generally complimentary nature of what she's said. "While you're here, your confidentiality is guaranteed," he assures her. "As for darkening my doorstep, it's all part of the service. When you need me, you know where to find me."
*