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"Somebody get me a doctor."
Jan. 7th, 2017 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
privateinvestigationsWho: Clint Chevalier and Walker Chester
What: Medical advice
Where: Walker's surgery, NY
When: Friday morning
Clint wasn't a fan of anything medical, personally, but he had become accustomed to it since Lincoln was hurt. Walker was Lincoln's doctor, so Clint sitting here in the waiting room for an appointment wasn't strange. Only, this time, it wasn't for Lincoln. Lincoln was at home with Kip, and Clint needed to come here to discuss Kip's situation with Walker. He knew he would have no hope in hell of getting Kip near a doctor, short of him being unconscious in a medical emergency. The kid came across as a stubborn cunt, but Clint knew it was fear... nothing more.
Clint sat flicking through a magazine, feeling bored out of his brain. Waiting wasn't the issue, it was being flanked by a few snobby desperate housewives in various stages of pregnancy that was off-putting because they were giving him Judgemental Cunt Glares. It didn't help when he offered that he knew all about being preggo because he knocked up his lesbian ex-wife's wife and they wanted to call their baby Jesus and be born amidst a Satanic ritual. It amused him for about 4 seconds, though.
Up on the TV screen mounted on the wall, his name flashed up with Walker's name and the room number. He tossed the magazine aside and gave a little hand wave to the housewife cunts. "I won't be long. Just an AIDs test and checking the infection in my Prince Albert. You wouldn't believe the funky rash I have down there. I wouldn't sit on that chair." He headed up the hall and Walker was waiting for him. "Thanks, doc. I appreciate your time. I know it ain't a general appointment."
What: Medical advice
Where: Walker's surgery, NY
When: Friday morning
Clint wasn't a fan of anything medical, personally, but he had become accustomed to it since Lincoln was hurt. Walker was Lincoln's doctor, so Clint sitting here in the waiting room for an appointment wasn't strange. Only, this time, it wasn't for Lincoln. Lincoln was at home with Kip, and Clint needed to come here to discuss Kip's situation with Walker. He knew he would have no hope in hell of getting Kip near a doctor, short of him being unconscious in a medical emergency. The kid came across as a stubborn cunt, but Clint knew it was fear... nothing more.
Clint sat flicking through a magazine, feeling bored out of his brain. Waiting wasn't the issue, it was being flanked by a few snobby desperate housewives in various stages of pregnancy that was off-putting because they were giving him Judgemental Cunt Glares. It didn't help when he offered that he knew all about being preggo because he knocked up his lesbian ex-wife's wife and they wanted to call their baby Jesus and be born amidst a Satanic ritual. It amused him for about 4 seconds, though.
Up on the TV screen mounted on the wall, his name flashed up with Walker's name and the room number. He tossed the magazine aside and gave a little hand wave to the housewife cunts. "I won't be long. Just an AIDs test and checking the infection in my Prince Albert. You wouldn't believe the funky rash I have down there. I wouldn't sit on that chair." He headed up the hall and Walker was waiting for him. "Thanks, doc. I appreciate your time. I know it ain't a general appointment."
