» Thu Apr 07, 2011 9:47 pm
Cristian Ramesh
Celeste's Diner
Evening
“Well, what kind of background do you have, son? Any medical experience?” Cris asked, turning his attention back to Ryler.
"Why yes. I grew up in Rivet City. Great place. My father died of Leukemia and my mum died giving birth. I was taught basic medical training by the local doctor there." Ryler smiled breifly, "Then, when some scientist and I were out in the field..." He stopped there, "Nevermind. What about you?"
There’s obviously more to your story, Ryler… But we all have our hardships, I suppose.
Just then a shriek broke out, making him jump. It was Celeste, saying there was a dead body. Cris went outside to take a look, Vee was already outside nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, seemingly unfazed as she was studying the fallen figure. It was the strange boy in slave clothes from before, a bullet to his head. Vee, so pale, looked like a ghost in the dark of the night, hovering curiously over the body; the blood red of her dress reflected in the glistening on the street.
“Did you see anything?” he asked Vee.
“Nah, I came out for a smoke and there he was on the floor,” Vee replied.
They heard raised voices inside the diner and entered. Joe was addressing the older man who had recently come into town.
"Now Mr. Harlen Jake. I'm sorry if it offends you, but everyone in town was accounted for, right here. Before Wierd kid left. You however just admitted yourself that you arrived after he left." Joe paused for effect, playing the crowd a little as they began to leave, sowing the seeds of doubt.
"Now I'm not accusing anyone of anything friend. Not yet at least. But that boy didn't shoot himself then throw his gun over a wall." He looked meaningfully at the larger man's pistol.
"What say you take your hand away from your gun friend? Then I can take mine away too," Joe glanced round Jake "and Nick and his men can calm down again. Then we can sit us down and discuss whatever it was you did, that had Jesse so pissed off while I was dancing? Oh and one other thing," Joe turned to the room. "Doctor.... Ummmm,,, Ramesh isn't it. Cris. I know you've been drinking, but could you please have a look at the body for us?"
Cris nodded towards Joe, Vee was blowing smoke by the door, her arms crossed.
"Alright,” Jesse said. "Do whatever you must. I'll bury the body once everything is said and done. Doc, if you want I'll carry this heap over to your clinic for ya." he offered, speaking in his usual gruff voice.
“Thank you, Mister Christophe. Much obliged,” Cris replied politely.
Harlen got a little flustered, "Hello people my hands are on my belt! Not over either my revolver, or by either my holster." He shook his belt up and down, showing a rather large, and old rustic belt buckle with a bull on it. "Oh [censored], I feel like I'm in a game of whodunit, when it coulda just been the boy himself."
Jake moves himself back to the booth where he was sitting a few minutes earlier. He collapses on the seat, and lets out a sigh, "I'm gettin' too old for thus nonsense y'all."
“I’ll be retiring to my home now. I’ll examine the boy tonight and let you know my findings,” Cris said calmly, gave a polite nod to the assembled and then exited the diner.
Vee dropped the cigarette butt to the floor, stamped it out, and bowed gracefully. “It’s been a lovely evening, and thank you to all responsible,” she said, nodding to Celeste, Drifter and Joe. “And don’t worry your pretty little head over this little mishap, love. It seemed like there was hardly a man left in those eyes; nothing left but madness, nothing worthwhile to mourn,” she said to Celeste, smiling, as she slipped out into the night.
--------------------------------------------
Vivienne "Vee" Winters
General Emporium de Winters // Pharmacy & Clinic
Morning
Jesse had dropped off the corpse later in the evening before, which was placed on the operating table in the clinic. When Vee awoke and went downstairs, she found Cris sleeping on the couch. She peeked around the corner into the clinic, Cris had covered the body with a sheet. Shuddering a little, she went to the kitchen and brewed some coffee.
As usual, the noise and smell brought Cris to life.
“You were up late, no?” Vee prompted him as he was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Yeah, I took my time… And I was almost going to save you a small choice piece on his neck, think it matched your skin tone, but changed my mind. I wouldn’t want you to be ‘wearing’ something diseased,” Cris replied.
“Hmm… What’s the good doctor’s diagnosis?”
“Secondary psychosis, stemming from neuro-sarcoidosis, I believe,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. “Compromised immune system, with granulomas, or clusters of inflammatory cells, present throughout the system like lesions. Noone really knows for sure what causes it, likely certain genetically disposed individuals reacting to an environmental factor,” Cris rambled dispassionately. “And the suspicion on the old man is likely ungrounded, the kid has scars up and down his arms, some quite recent. He’s a cutter, was obviously struggling mentally.”
“Ah,” Vee replied quietly. Her mind wandered to her grandfather, who had possessed the genetic code that changed him into a ghoul but eventually succumbed to madness. He had continued to live on in Warrington Station as a feral, no longer able to reason through the blinding agony of insanity, his cherished possessions abandoned, his past forgotten.
In that kind of mental state, I think having the presence of mind to kill yourself would be a blessing...
“Can you remove the body?” Vee asked, shivering a little, unsettled.
Cris nodded, noting her discomfort. “I’ll be back in a bit, after I speak with Rennie,” he said as he took one last swig of coffee and put the cup down. He went to the clinic and stuffed the body into a pack, which he slung over his back as he left.
-------------
Cristian Ramesh
Grayditch outskirts
Morning
Outside, Cris pondered how to dispose of the remains.
Dump him in the metro? Nah, I’ll give him a proper burial…
He trudged along to the outskirts of the settlement, where he found at the edge of a rotting, decrepit building, a small pit in the ground. Lowering his pack into it, he kicked at some of the debris to cover it.
Damn, looks like I’ll need a shovel..
Cris sighed, adjusted his glasses, and returned to the house. Upon his arrival, he saw the tanned middle-aged man who owned the Brahmin, Duncan, at his door. He seemed lost in thought, holding an unconscious man in his arms.
Barely a week or two old and this town’s going to need it’s own graveyard…
“Good morning,” he called as he approached. “I recall seeing you around, though I don’t believe we’ve met. I suppose you’re looking for me, name’s Cristian.”
He unlocked the door, wondering what had kept Vee from letting them in. She wasn’t in the kitchen. He nodded toward the couch.
“You can drop him down there and leave him with me,” Cris said. As Duncan obliged, Cris studied the thin, dark-haired man, who was barely much younger than Duncan or himself. His lips were dry and chapped, eyes sunken, a thick layer of dust and dirt on him. Obviously he’d been traveling for days, looked like a classic case of dehydration.
He retrieved a bag of saline drip from his medical supplies and attached it to some tubing before taking a hypodermic needle and inserting it into the fallen man’s arm. He monitored the drip, waiting for it to take effect.
“Don’t move, just take it easy,” he said as the man began to stir. “You’ll need to rest for awhile longer since you got yourself into pretty bad shape, let this do it’s job,” he motioned to the saline drip.
