Getting it out there [Tag: Medic R.] on Hospital Wing

Cooper Abramson

April 11, 2010 8:48 AM

Getting it out there [Tag: Medic R.] by Cooper Abramson

Cooper Abramson's brown hair was sleep-tousled, and he had barely bothered to change out of his pyjamas to make the walk to the Medic's office. He had a very good memory for places and Aaron had shown him this place—and some others—the previous day, so he wasn't worried about getting lost. He had been in too many new places to worry about getting lost on top of everything else, but his memory had been strong even before he bothered paying conscious attention to that sort of thing. When it came down to it, Cooper could take care of himself.

He couldn't take care of Melody though, not from all the way here in Arizona at some stupid boarding school where he couldn't even go home for the weekend. Aaron did; he and Garen had talked about it over the summer, how they both came home on weekends usually. How they would take care of Melody, and Cooper oughtn't worry. But he knew that was just a bunch of crap; who would he be protecting Melody from, if not for them?

Now the first year was standing outside of the Hospital Wing, and he made a face before opening the door and stepping into the patently anesthetically-scented room. Cooper hated hospitals, and hospital wings, and medics. The Aladren had spent way too much time in them to hate them any less. Thanks, Dad, Cooper thought bitterly as he looked around for the medic.

“Hey,” Cooper called out as he looked around, still not seeing anyone. It was dumb that he couldn't keep track of the stupid potion by himself. He could take care of himself perfectly fine. He'd never needed grown-ups and he didn't need them now. Stupid school system. “Hey, is anyone here? I need to take medicine...” he trailed off, turning around at a sound to see a woman walking in the door. His dark brown eyes examined her; he assumed she was the medic. “Cooper Abramson,” he said briefly, waiting for the moment of realisation and the consequent skeptical glance or glare.

Grown-ups sucked.

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Medic Cleo Rocamboli

April 18, 2010 1:38 AM

The doctor is In by Medic Cleo Rocamboli

Medic Cleo Rocamboli checked over her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down her white medic robes. Cleo had never understood why medics were supposed to wear white. With all the potions and blood and other stain-causing things they had to deal with, white was probably the worst possible color for medics to wear. Brown or black would be much more sensible.

Beneath her work robes, the thirty-nine-year-old was wearing a blue denim skirt and a pale yellow peasant blouse. Her russet hair—unruly as ever—was pulled back in a scrunchie. Cleo had contemplated cutting her hair, but since it was so curly that would probably just make it stand up like the bride of Frankstein's. Yeah, not the most attractive plan. Satisfied with her appearance, Cleo strode off towards the Hospital Wing, whistling the theme to Gilligan's Island.

Usually, when Cleo arrived at the Hospital Wing in the morning, there wasn't anyone there. It was generally too early for anyone to have gotten themselves into the kind of trouble that required a medic. Larks in the Hospital Wing were usually hypochondriacs or kids trying to get out of their morning Potions class by feigning illness. These students she usually sent on their way, with either a promise that they were healthy or a threat to attend lessons, depending on which was appropriate to the situation.

So when she heard someone speaking inside the Hospital Wing, it was more than a little disconcerting. Cleo walked into the room and looked at the boy. She didn't recognize him, which could mean he was a transfer/first-year, or it could mean that Cleo was an absolute shut-in who couldn't remember any of the students' faces, primarily because she hadn't properly met any of the students besides Holly Greer and some of the more careless Quidditch players. Anyway, this unfamiliar kid was giving her a look like she was there to draw his blood or something (Cleo was very used to being on the receiving end of that look), and introduced himself simply with his name.

Cleo opened her mouth to ask what exactly he wanted her to do about him being “Cooper Abramson”, but then realized why the name had rung a small dinner bell in her mind. Right, Cooper was one of the kids Aaron was fostering. And he had a…health problem (that was one way of putting it) that required frequent medication.

“Oh, yes, right,” the very freckled woman said. “I'm Medic Rocamboli, but most people find that too long and just call me Cleo or Medic Rock. Any of those is fine.” She crossed to one of the cabinets. She drew her wand—eleven and a half inches, eucalyptus wood, phoenix feather core—and unlocked it. The charms she had set to lock the cabinets were too complex for students to crack, but not very difficult for Cleo. It wouldn't do to have students accessing her medical supplies whenever they wanted, especially in the case of potions like this one.

Briskly, she continued. It was too early to make small talk. “Sorry I wasn't in when you arrived. I'm normally around in the mornings, just still settling back into the routine of school, I guess.” She chuckled. Cleo was an early riser, most of the time, but she'd slept in almost every day for the last month. Breaking the habit was rough. She poured out the dosage for Cooper—he could do it himself, she was sure, but there were crazy regulations on medication in school that required the medic to do that—and handed the glass to the Aladren. She didn't envy him this potion, that was certain. “Anything else I can do for you while you're here?” she asked when he was finished. If he had any other questions, the medic might as well answer them now.

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