Entry tags:
Check-up
The Shadow has been splitting his time between the Sanctum and the apartment of James Rettigue, but only one of these locations is a place for guests. The coffee table is a solid mass of paperwork, although there are signs of order in the form of stacks. The furniture is sleek and black, modern even for its time. One wall of the living room is dominated by a tall picture window that overlooks the city, but the curtains are half drawn. From the kitchen the scent of fresh coffee drifts, but The Shadow is not used to entertaining. The spartan feel to the place, broken only by his paperwork, does not give a welcoming feel.
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He might be able to piece together quite an accurate list, in fact, from his extensive library of case records. It would be a tremendous undertaking to wade through the reports, however. "Some were experimental, and as such I don't know the precise chemical breakdown. A number have been theoretically poisonous..." He looks thoughtful for a moment, drawing a scrap of paper closer, and begins to make a list. It only covers half a page, and some have question marks beside them. It should take him long enough to get that far that she may take the break to drink her coffee. At last he takes a rattling sigh and hands it over. "It's incomplete, I'm sure, and spans a period of fifty years or so..." He hesitates, in part over the revelation of age. "I wasn't even thinking of whatever I might have been exposed to during the War..."
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"Didn't I get some of that before?" That the recently collapsed lung may have tainted those results is not the answer he wants to hear.
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"I assume you're willing to be... discrete about this."
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"Of course." Sarah blinks, surprised, but on second thought she supposes that is needed to be said, considering the situation. "I won't tell a soul. You can trust the clinics as well. I mean, even Doctor Crane went there when he was injured." Or injured himself, usually.
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"I'm afraid I don't know him. Will this require an appointment?"
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"Require? No, but an appointment would mean that you don't have to wait around the clinics longer than you have to."
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"I have ample time at the moment, and for the forseeable near future, but I also never know when something will come up." His schedule is, to his thinking, beyond his control.
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She smiles a little, then retrieves her PINpoint. "I could send the radiology department a message to expect you in... an hour? Two?"
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He is at once both worried and relieved that she might be able to expedite things so well, but he glances thoughtfully at his paperwork before giving an answer. "An hour should be fine. Assuming nobody decides to start rampant criminal activity by then." His tone may be slightly difficult to interpret, but that was intended as sarcasm.
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She notes the sarcasm. "They'll just have to hold their horses until you're back," she replies with a small grin. She taps quickly into her PINpoint. "Someone from radiology will be waiting for you. Or... did you want me to come with you?" She would go with him, although sitting around here for an hour would be a little awkward.
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Again he hesitates, and is privately embarrassed for it. "Not if you have other business to attend to. I'd appreciate discussing any findings with you, though. I have a fair working knowledge, but I'm not a physician." He just may need someone to interpret the medical terminology, and he trusts her, doctor or not.
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"How about I meet with you afterward at the clinics? That way you can get a little more work done." She checks her watch and sighs. "Besides, I have a winged kitten to feed in about a half-hour."
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"That's fine. I'll send you a message when they're done dissecting me through radiation."
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"Okay. Let me know if you need anything else before then." She puts her things away in her medical bag.
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"Thank you Branigan. I appreciate the housecall. I'll contact you later." He appreciates the prodding when he ought to know what's good for him, as well, but has too much pride to admit it aloud.
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She smiles and rests her packed bag on her lap. "Thank you for the coffee and the geography lesson. I'll be waiting to hear from you." She knows she was probably the push he needed. With all the good he does, she'll do what he can to help him get healthy again.
Without further ado, she presses a button on her PINpoint and teleports away.
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In general terms, he is diagnosed with pneumoconiosis, but what causes them some confusion is a finding of rheumatoid nodules in his lungs. His blood test proves negative for rheumatoid arthritis, and the conflict of results sends them into a flurry of other tests. By the time he has put his foot down on being run through any further machines for the day, they are still unresolved on the matter. He has been asked as few questions as possible, due to his unnapproachable manner, and is let go with pills for inflammation.
His message is brief.
Done for the day. They won't speak to me. Contact and meet at your liesure.
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While she waits for an answer, she heads to the Clinics and picks up his test results. The radiologist explains the findings, includuing the strange nodules, and then goes on a lengthy diatribe about what a difficult patient the Shadow was, why couldn't he stay for a few more tests, blah blah blah. Sarah listens patiently, thinking to herself that the clinics have had far more difficult patients. Nobody got fear gassed or mentally wiped -- consider it a good day, Doctor Complains-A-Lot!
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Rettigue apt. fine.
While she is listening to the doctor, he is hard at work catching up with his network. By the time she arrives he should be well into his second cup of coffee, and the curtains have been drawn now that dusk has fallen. The only light in the apartment is from a slim lamp aimed at the coffee table where he works.
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"There's weird news? It might be best to get that out of the way first..." It also conveniently removes the awful choice between good or bad.
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