[Six older sisters, one younger brother, numerous nieces. Puppy eye'd pleading and soft disappointment would not move her. Not this time, at least. She sets her bag just inside the door and carries the compress and ointment over to James, looking him over.]
Have you had any difficulty sleeping?
[Speaking as she works, slim fingers unscrewing the top of the cream and pulling out a little dollop; her other hand brushing his hair back and out of the way. Adele's face is blank, her tone brusque, but her hands are gentle.]
[Which is true, James Moriarty has terrible luck with sleep and generally grabs a few hours when he feels the need to. It's not a compulsion. James is - like Adele - blank face as she administers the cream to his forehead.]
Either you sleep well, and continue to despite the assault, or you've always slept poorly. I think it might be safe to assume the latter.
[Since they've time enough she's careful when dabbing the cream on and around the skin she'd stitched not long ago, working it into the irritated skin pass by pass.]
[He doesn't sound sarcastic as the statement actually is. Rather he sounds rather...relaxed. He seems to find the fact that he's being doctored soothing.
Or at least that might be what he wants Adele to think.
Most would find assault traumatic, most do not sleep well their first few nights here, and those that do not sleep well tend to have slight bruising and bags under their bloodshot eyes.
[Once the cream's worked in she nudges his chin up with a finger to better check the bruising on his neck.]
Far better for me not have to use them at all. But it is what it is.
[Mostly blue and green, fading into purple where the pressure had been strongest. They'd ache for two weeks more, then fade. Another day and she could recommend the application of the heat packs she brought, and light massage.]
Is there a particular cause of your sleeplessness?
[Contemplating the deaths of several people? The ruin of small countries and the collapsing of dying stars? Why one man could be so clever and so stupid at the same time and just how much James would like to see him beg for answers he didn't have?]
I dunno. Guess it's leftovers from uni days, staying up late studying and grading and junk...
Too much to think lest you grow idle, and too much on your mind for peace.
[Adele knew that sensation very well, though for very different reasons. Different concerns, different worries; doubly so now that she was here. Easier to become complacent, the threats far more immediate and dangerous for them than in her world, and this. Thing. She'd stepped into the middle of.
Satisfied that there wasn't much else to be done for him at the moment Adele steps back and nods at the cream.] A thin layer whenever the itching starts back up again; but no more than twice a day.
[James smiled slightly, unexpectedly. He didn't know he'd be getting that kind of reply. It looked as if that made him happy, to be hearing that. His fingers go up to dab at the cream around the bottom of the gash.]
[She wipes what little remains of the cream from her fingertips with a bit of gauze, and then nods to the small heating packs. Break and shake, easy enough at regulated temperatures.]
Starting tomorrow, perhaps the day after depending on how the bruising progresses, wrap one of those in a towel and apply to the worst of it in half hour intervals.
[She steps back and slips her hands into her pockets, blinking a bit. Her eyes go dark and flick to the side a moment before she replies.]
It is one of the worse ways to die, being strangled. And not something I would wish on many. Even if you would simply end up here again in a week; being dead is something of an inconvenience. Especially if it was not deserved.
Should anything change you know where to find the clinic, or if you would prefer a house call instead you are welcome to contact me through the journals.
[A faint nod in lieu of a wave and she's turning to leave, making her way to, and through, the door.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
No problem.
[James sits in a chair that looks to be in use at the table in the kitchen. Placid patient awaiting the surgeon.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
Have you had any difficulty sleeping?
[Speaking as she works, slim fingers unscrewing the top of the cream and pulling out a little dollop; her other hand brushing his hair back and out of the way. Adele's face is blank, her tone brusque, but her hands are gentle.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
No more than usual.
[Which is true, James Moriarty has terrible luck with sleep and generally grabs a few hours when he feels the need to. It's not a compulsion. James is - like Adele - blank face as she administers the cream to his forehead.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Since they've time enough she's careful when dabbing the cream on and around the skin she'd stitched not long ago, working it into the irritated skin pass by pass.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[He doesn't sound sarcastic as the statement actually is. Rather he sounds rather...relaxed. He seems to find the fact that he's being doctored soothing.
Or at least that might be what he wants Adele to think.
But then again...]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Once the cream's worked in she nudges his chin up with a finger to better check the bruising on his neck.]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[James complies very easily, his Adam's apple bobs slightly as he tilts his chin up under her silent instruction.]
At least you get to keep your skills up to date with me.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Mostly blue and green, fading into purple where the pressure had been strongest. They'd ache for two weeks more, then fade. Another day and she could recommend the application of the heat packs she brought, and light massage.]
Is there a particular cause of your sleeplessness?
[Action, Evening, March 19]
I dunno. Guess it's leftovers from uni days, staying up late studying and grading and junk...
Can't stop thinking, ya know?
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Adele knew that sensation very well, though for very different reasons. Different concerns, different worries; doubly so now that she was here. Easier to become complacent, the threats far more immediate and dangerous for them than in her world, and this. Thing. She'd stepped into the middle of.
Satisfied that there wasn't much else to be done for him at the moment Adele steps back and nods at the cream.] A thin layer whenever the itching starts back up again; but no more than twice a day.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[James smiled slightly, unexpectedly. He didn't know he'd be getting that kind of reply. It looked as if that made him happy, to be hearing that. His fingers go up to dab at the cream around the bottom of the gash.]
"No more than twice a day" -- gotcha.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[She wipes what little remains of the cream from her fingertips with a bit of gauze, and then nods to the small heating packs. Break and shake, easy enough at regulated temperatures.]
Starting tomorrow, perhaps the day after depending on how the bruising progresses, wrap one of those in a towel and apply to the worst of it in half hour intervals.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[James eyes the packs briefly before nodding to her instruction.]
Will do.
I never really properly thanked you before. For saving my life, I mean.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[She steps back and slips her hands into her pockets, blinking a bit. Her eyes go dark and flick to the side a moment before she replies.]
It is one of the worse ways to die, being strangled. And not something I would wish on many. Even if you would simply end up here again in a week; being dead is something of an inconvenience. Especially if it was not deserved.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
Sorry....i- it was funny!
[Action, Evening, March 19]
Is anything else troubling you, or have you settled in well enough?
[Action, Evening, March 19]
As far as okay goes here, yanno?
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[A beat.] If you need nothing else, I will return to the clinic.
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[Action, Evening, March 19]
[A faint nod in lieu of a wave and she's turning to leave, making her way to, and through, the door.]