(no subject)

[pro_patria_mortuus]

He hasn't been to the infirmary before. He hasn't had cause; he hasn't needed a doctor's care. He's curious, a little, but curiosity isn't sufficient reason to disturb doctors at work. They're likely busy.

Now, however, he has cause.

He knocks before he enters. Then, stepping into the doorway, looks around with interest and bafflement in equal measure.

(Tidiness is laudable, but he's never seen a doctor's belongings or office so formidably, obsessively clean.)

Comments

[pro_patria_mortuus]

The corner of Enjolras's mouth quirks a little, in some private and complicated emotion.

He's never liked being bled. No one with whom he's share the sentiment is at this table; the urge to look over to catch someone's eye is hard to suppress.

(And if he can't see the extent of Simon's courteously suppressed horror, he can at least guess that some of that polite neutrality is deliberate. It only stands to reason for a man of so far into the future.)

"I'll pass that on."

[simon_doctor]

"Laudanum, on the other hand -- well, it's an opiate, and has some use for pain management, but it's dangerously addictive...."

The discussion goes on for quite some time, as the remains of the tea and coffee grow cold.