ways_infirmary | (no subject)

Liz spends a good half an hour sitting at a table in the bar, case file open in front of her. She makes a show (even to herself) of reading the file, but her eyes flick to the infirmary time and time again. When she finally gets up, it's all at once in a flurry of movement, as if she made a decision very suddenly and is doing it before she can change her mind again.

The nice thing about Kim's white hair: it's pretty eye-catching if, by any chance, you happen to be peering through an open door.

Liz hovers in the doorway for a long indecisive moment before she raps on the wood very lightly.

Kim looks up from counting pills into a brown bottle, and smiles.

"Hi, Liz."

She straightens, setting the medication aside.

"How's it going?"

Liz cracks a small, wry smile, stepping into the infirmary. "Well, I can hear you," she lightly taps her left ear with one finger, "so pretty good." She's taking slow steps, arms folded comfortably and hands on her elbows. "Is it okay if I...?" She lifts one hand to gesture, indicating the infirmary floor separating them.

"That's definitely good," Kim tells her, obviously pleased. "And of course--"

She waves Liz forward, in the process managing to indicate both an empty cot and a guest chair or two, just in case.

"-- did you want a checkup for your hearing, or...?"

"--Oh, no." She gives a slight shake of her head, crossing the infirmary. "I work for a government agency with a pretty good clinic; they've been keeping an eye on it. I wanted to thank you for your help before. So--" She half-smiles, just a little. "Thanks."

She hesitates for a second, then remains standing a few feet -- comfortable conversational distance -- away. "And I wanted to ask you about something else."

"You're welcome," she says, smiling.

Kim keeps smiling even as Liz asks her next question, but it's clear that the other woman's got her complete attention.

"And sure. What's up?"

"It's -- personal, and kind of weird," she warns slowly, arms still folded and hand going just a little tighter in its grip on her upper arm. Her hesitance is clear, as is a certain level of awkwardness.

Edited 2009-09-07 04:35 (UTC)

"Whatever it is, it's not going to be weird as far as I'm concerned," she says, gently.

"And as far as it being personal -- as a doctor, anything you tell me I keep confidential. I can even use an alias for you and seal your medical record for my eyes only, if you want."

One side of her mouth lifts, just enough to be noticeable; enough that it's probably a safe bet that she's going to ask Kim to do that.

Liz exhales. "I don't know if my boyfriend and I can have kids," she says, not all in a rush but low and quick. "I know you can't say anything for sure unless you've run tests; I'm just--" She bites her lip and finally looks at Kim for more than a couple seconds. "I'm trying to figure out of it's a possibility, or how to figure out if it's a possibility." She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out several Polaroids. She flips through them, selects one, looks at it for a long moment, and then steps forward and holds it out to Kim.

In the photograph, a towering red guy has his arm slung across Liz's shoulders, stone right hand enormous in comparison to the woman under it. She has been caught mid-laugh and he's grinning down at her, looking terribly pleased with himself for causing it. His tail is looped around her waist.

Liz is giving that same tiny, lopsided twist of her mouth again, but this time, it's wryer; a little more unsure. "Neither one of us is exactly what you might call 'normal.' "

Kim takes the photo and looks down at it for several long seconds before glancing back up at Liz with a wry smile of her own.

"He's pretty distinctive, I'll give you that."

A beat.

"Not as tall as one of the Paraiko, though. Which in this case is probably good."

She offers Liz the photo back.

Liz doesn't look down as she takes it back; she's still watching Kim's face. Cautious, and maybe a little warmer: "--What's a Paraiko?"

(Liz always appreciates a good non-reaction.)

"The Paraiko are giants," Kim tells her. "In a world called Fionavar. It's a pretty special place."

For many, many reasons.

Liz's smile flashes suddenly, there and gone in the space of a second. She slips the pictures back into her pocket. "No," she agrees, shaking her head. "He's not a giant."

"Which as I said, in this case is probably good," she points out. "Because the first question I have to ask is, um..."

She gives Liz a reassuring smile, acknowledging the sensitive nature of this discussion even as she asks, candidly,

"... have you and he attempted sexual relations yet?"

To Liz's credit, she doesn't sputter or laugh or have any of the myriad of possible reactions. She had figured a question like that was coming. In the curse of being so fair-skinned, though, it's very obvious when she flushes.

She coughs and clears her throat, and pointedly doesn't touch her hot face. "We have a good sex life," she says. She tries to sound more matter-of-fact than defensive. "We've been together almost a year."

Edited 2009-09-07 07:34 (UTC)

"That answers that," Kim says, smiling. "Good for you."

She gestures Liz toward a chair beside the nearby empty bed, one that has a stool nearby as well, and turns to draw a glass of water from the sink.

Kim walks back over and offers Liz the glass before perching on the stool.

"I'm going to presume you've been using contraception of some sort...?"

She sits down; takes the glass, more for something to do with her hands than out of thirst. "The pill, for years."

There's a reason most other types of birth control aren't the most feasible options. Liz is far enough into this now that she doesn't hesitate. She just shifts the glass into one hand, lifts the other, and says, "There's another major consideration, too."

She lets fire ripple up her arm, starting at about mid-forearm and ending several inches above her fingertips. It's ghostly blue and flickering slowly, hot even from a distance, and reflecting blue light back in Liz's eyes. The two rubber bands that she was wearing around her wrist disintegrate.

Kim blinks.

"Okay, given that demonstration," she says, after a moment, "I can see how you wouldn't want to use any sort of barrier method."

Her bones show through her skin, orange and back-lit by flames, almost appearing to be glowing. The effect grows more pronounced for a second or two as the flames sink back under her translucent skin -- and then they're gone, it's all gone, and her eyes are brown again.

She exhales sharp and quiet, almost a laugh; brushes ash off her wrist. Wry: "Yeah. You've got it.

"It's because of that," with 'that,' Liz turns her hand palm-up again and lets a tiny jet of blue flame flicker between her fingers, "that I'm not sure about kids. But." She shrugs one shoulder, more out of tension than out of any attempted show of nonchalance. "It'd be nice to know if it was an option."

"Of course it would," she agrees, and for just an instant there's a flicker in the clear gray eyes.

"Let's see what we can do about finding that out for you."

A beat. Kim absently drums her fingers against her jeans-clad leg. "To start with the basics -- just to confirm, you're human with a special ability, right? As opposed to being a member of a people that's similar but not technically human?"

"Yeah," she says, very slow (she thought about the answer before giving it). "As far as I know." She's sitting forward with her forearms on her knees and the glass dangling from one hand; she rotates it several times and watches the water swirl.

"As far as you know," she repeats, quietly.

"Liz, I'm sorry, but I have to ask... your parents?"

"Could not light themselves on fire," Liz says. Very, very matter-of-fact: "Weren't fireproof." She doesn't wince or falter or quiet. But she doesn't quite meet Kim's eyes as she says it, either. "Totally normal.

"We don't know where it came from."

Hence: as far as I know.

Kim nods, once.

"Sometimes gifts like that skip generations," she says, just as quietly as before, and the look in the gray eyes is kind.

"It was that way with me."

A pause, and then she continues, for all the world as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell,

"Okay, so we'll go with human. What about your boyfriend?"

Liz's eyes flick to her, swift and sudden, when Kim mentions a gift. As Kim goes on, she has Liz's undivided, careful attention.

Her guarded look eases up a touch at the mention of Red; the question wrings a wry smile out of her. "I'd say 'best man I know,' but I don't think that's what you're asking," she says. "Demon."

Edited 2009-09-23 04:01 (UTC)

She blinks.

"... did you say 'demon'?"

Her mouth tips crookedly. "Now you get why I'm asking here and not in some doctor's office in Newark."

It's the less sharp of the two possible answers that came to mind. The more snap response, the one that was Liz's instinct and that she kept to herself, involved some pretty heavy duty sarcasm.

"Uh-huh," she says -- a little blankly, but Kim's rallying fast. "I can see how that'd probably not go over too well."

"... I don't know much about, um, demon physiology, I'm afraid." She frowns, thinking.

"There's a couple of ways we can try to find out, though."

"Okay." She makes a conscious effort to unclench her free hand.

"The first one means that I'd have to talk to some people -- friends of mine here," she says, steadily. "One's a doctor; he's from a time that's pretty far in the future from where I live, and they might have some tests I don't know."

She nods slowly, dark eyes on Kim.

"What else?"

"The other way is pretty much just to wait and see. "

A beat, and a breath. The look in the clear gray eyes is grave, now.

"Which I doubt is what you want to hear. But if it's any comfort... I know for a fact that gods and humans can have children together. So it stands to reason that a human and a demon possibly could, too."

The tiny, quick movement of her mouth suggests a wince more than a smile, though it's an attempt at the latter. She shakes her head quickly.

"Not my favorite option."

Especially since she's unsure about the idea to begin with and is only trying to gather information.

"Asking the people from the future would be okay," she says. "If, um, it's confidential."

She hasn't exactly discussed this with certain key players yet. Like Red.

"I didn't think it would be," Kim says, softly.

"I promise you, it'd be confidential. The person I'm thinking about -- I'd trust him with my own life, if it came down to it."

In point of fact, she already has.

"But in any case, I can talk things over with him without needing to say who you are."

Her smile turns slightly wry. "I'd offer the testing that I know about from my world and time, but that'd require both you and your partner's participation, and frankly if you're going to take that approach there are much more fun ways to start off, you know?"

Her laugh is a tiny thing, wry (because she's quietly half-hoping that the answer ultimately might save her from some very difficult decisions) but present. "Yeah," she says.

"If you could see what he thinks, and let me know, that'd be great." She slowly gets up. "You could leave a note for me;" she gestures, and it's a little awkward, "--or just look around; I'm here pretty often.

"It's Sherman, by the way; Liz Sherman." For a moment, she's clearly unsure of what to do with the untouched glass of water in her hand, and then she holds it out to Kim again. "Thanks."

"I will."

Her hand touches the other woman's for a moment as she takes the glass back from Liz. Kim smiles.

"And you're welcome."

One side of her mouth tilts upward in a tiny smile, a silent second thank you, and Liz slips out of the infirmary just as quietly as she'd entered it.