( Angela is someone who always had to look for the finer details— she had to stop others from marching on with their troops and tend to their injuries they tried to hide from the medics, had to weasel out the truth from children who were afraid to admit to others in the vicinity, had to find ways to communicate with rural villages and tribes and earn their trust for simple vaccinations deep in South American mountains and African jungles.
A doctor's job is never done. Or something along those lines. She doesn't mind; she's just very good at it, which means his attempts to skirt her eye aren't terribly successful, and for that she'd likely find it in her to apologize. She doesn't let it flavor the way she treats him; she's the same as before, just as patient and just as kind, and that little bit playful that says I'm not taking you lightly at all.
He's a good kid. )
I always enjoy the early mornings the most; they're about as peaceful as can be. You're always welcome to come visit even if it's just to have breakfast and a hot cup of coffee with me, you know.
( But as for the strange word, that mischief rears its head in the twinkle of her eye, but she doesn't tease him; she tucks a lock back over her ear and tucks her device away again, answering him upfront. )
It's just a term of endearment in my own language— the translation ability here doesn't always catch it, it seems. It's Swiss-German. It just boils down to... "sweetie", I suppose. Did you have any guesses on what it had been?
( She'll set about arranging the two salads and giving him somewhere to sit at the corner of her desk, bringing a rolling stool out from the other side of her to offer him. )
[ He's not used to it. He's not used to people seeing things in him because he spends his time with classmates, other animals, where body language is key. And he's nearly an expert at keeping himself in check, hiding things, and maintaining a good outward appearance. He's fooled friends and his father both. He's fooled the Shishigumi. But -- with a doctor, with someone skilled and trained - he's going to need a new strategy. ]
Maybe I will.
[ Maybe, of course. He doesn't know what to make of the offer, if he should make anything of it. He hasn't decided. ]
I don't know what Swiss-German is. I didn't have any guesses, I don't want to assume. But if I were to guess, sweetie wouldn't have been one of them.
[ That's not a way people have ever referred to him. He's not sweet. ]
( Well, he has her to practice with. Angela will never take advantage of what she gleans from him and will offer plenty in return, even when she tries to keep her reactions reeled it— empathy weighs too heavily on the curve of her brows to ever really hide. He'll be able to read her sincerity off of her and her good intentions. Problem is, she'll adapt with him adapting to block her out; they'll be in a Catch 22. But she'll smile wider to his "maybe" and fully assumes he probably won't, but looks forward to being pleasantly surprised if he's sincere, and then just shakes her head to his clarifications. )
It's all right; there are many people here who have never heard of my country. And many who have. It's a little one called Switzerland, in between multiple other, larger countries, and wherever it borders on these countries, the language and cuisine has all taken heavy influence. Thus, being from the side bordering on Germany, I'm Swiss-German. I'll take my win for having surprised you, then, and being the first to call you as such.
I promise I don't take the honor lightly. ( She's teasingly severe in how she speaks it, breaking with another little grin that crinkles her nose with her amusement, and she sets to cracking open matching salads and getting the little container of dressing out to drizzle on her own, then offering it to him to try before he adds it to his own. ) It usually doesn't have to be a direct remark; it's just something to call people. Others translate to things like "little mouse", or "little bear", or "little rabbit"— "darling", "love", so on. Other countries sometimes use foods. Apparently a popular one is "pumpkin"...?
( Don't ask her to explain Americans; she never could. )
[ Said so simply, though he knows it's true. He doesn't sound insulted or bothered by the fact that she's the only one who will, too. Louis got his appearance and personality insulted by a girl who followed it up with a love confession. And his father -- he abruptly stops that train of thought and then nods. ]
I guess we don't call each other pet names very much. I mean, darling and sweetie are things.
[ There's a slight, momentary hint of amusement on his face. ]
Can you imagine me calling a deer "Little Bear"? I don't think she'd be very impressed.
[ Not that his interactions have been very impressive with them. He accepts the container with dressing, and puts a little bit on a leaf of lettuce, popping it into his mouth to test, then - satisfied, pours some over all of the vegetables. ]
I'm sure that isn't true. It just takes time to find a rhythm with people, sometimes. But I'll take it as a point of pride until then. Especially if you're going to let me call you such a thing.
( He certainly hasn't told her no yet, so she's sure he just doesn't particularly care, but she doesn't know where the line is drawn for his when. Despite speaking easily with one another, there were sure to be a lot of differences in their cultures and histories, social dynamics— she tries to remain mindful. But the tease he offers back makes her laugh, covering her mouth with the curl of slender fingers to try and muffle the abruptness of it. )
No, I don't suppose she would. My apologies, I didn't quite think that through before saying it. Though I do recall a fun bit of wordplay with someone I knew here, before. I used to be under Iris— I had deer traits. I don't remember if I've told you before. Ears and spots and the little tail, usually. He called me "my dear" and I had to ask if he was teasing me about my spots or not.
( Oh, good. He likes the vinaigrette. She'll gesture for him to add a little more with a softer smile, get a few more calories in him. Another little nod to his weight loss, and a sliver of her worry showing through, much as she tries to avoid addressing it directly. )
[ There's a momentary smirk settling on his features. It's maybe thinking about one of the Shishigumi calling him a pet name that wasn't simply "Boss". Or maybe one of the drama club members. Maybe if Juno had said he was sweet instead of calling him stubborn and scrawny. He's starting to relax, at least. The easy banter a welcome distraction from the things settling into the back of his mind. The ears on top of his head twitch a little, listening to her intently as he starts to slowly eat. One bite at a time. It has been awhile since he'd been very concerned about eating anything at all. ]
You were a deer? Did you enjoy it? Do people even enjoy turning into animals or partially? I don't enjoy transforming, but maybe you see it differently.
Hmm, good. I'm glad. I'd hate to pick the wrong term of endearment otherwise.
( Heh heh, en-deer-ment. But she smiles as if it truly is a privilege, as if she truly is happy— because she is. He's been kind around her and she's been interested in getting to know him better, and this is a good step toward that. He seemed a bit lonely and like to keep his cards close to his chest, harmful as that can be, and she wants to be able to alleviate even a small portion of that with company.
They'll take turns eating and speaking, back and forth, but the questions have her smile turning a bit baffled, because... well, no one has asked her anything like that before. She'll start poking through photos on her phone he'll see with the holographic projection to pull up a good example to show him. The antlers were hit and miss, Iris coming and going more often without them than with. And it's certainly not the racier photo from when she'd first arrived here, and everyone was chronicling their changes. )
I was indeed; see? As for enjoying it... I suppose that depends on the person, really. The effects of Iris were— pleasant, I suppose. If a bit overwhelming. The traits were mild enough that I didn't worry about them and they caused me no discomfort, and unobtrusive enough that I had no reason to dislike them, so I suppose I would say I enjoyed them. I could easily understand people with significantly more changes or different appearances not enjoying the process, though. Those who grow scales seem terribly uncomfortable with them, and all I had to deal with were velvety spots.
My penchant for letting them be touched hasn't changed at all, even under Sanguis with my canine traits. The sensitivity of the ears and tails have been about the same, and I've found it pleasant when others touch them. I think the novelty of it and the change in our nervous system makes it interesting to everyone and it's a kinder way to explore the changes instead of others.
( She hopes that isn't too much to admit to; she doesn't talk about how it'd felt to have the spots rubbed over, or the faint sensation of the velveteen antlers, or the awkward positions the tail forced on her in chairs or in bed sometimes. That isn't much better as a wolf. Generally-speaking, however, she just likes affection shared, so she never minds letting others do silly things like rub her ears— grabbing her tail is a different matter entirely, however. Don't Do That. )
[ He peeks through the pictures. Interesting, really. He's starting to see that there's no rhyme or reason behind the transformations, though, and at least he seems to understand that. Not that he had ever thought it made sense, but they don't seem to be particular about what they add or change. Interesting. Louis looked the same each time he was a wolf - up until he wasn't a wolf any longer.
Then he looks amused, finishing off a piece of his salad.]
Canines have really sensitive ears. And tails.
[ Says the guy who pulls a wolf's tail. ]
So are big cats', too. Like lions and tigers. Actually most large carnivores.
[ He taps his fork as he reminisces. ]
I was told by a lion that the best way to defend yourself against a large carnivore is to pull their tail. [ Amused. ] Though I can turn into those now. You know, I never much cared about being touched, but I imagine it's strange for humans to have fur suddenly available to be pet.
( Once he seems finished with the photos, she'll close the app once more and return to her salad, smiling idly and trying not to laugh when he confirms her suspicious. She just nods, amusement lacing her tone of her voice. )
Yes, it seems they do. I suppose they have to have some weakness, hmm? Though I'm afraid pulling on my tail has quite a different effect. I'll have to kindly ask you not try. ( It'd be inappropriate to flip her "turnt" switch, after all. She's still trying to get control of that and it's proving rather difficult. ) Have you had your tail yanked on, then? I certainly hope not.
As for the fur, I suppose it's a little strange, but not so much. Skin is already an organ of the body, and it's incredibly sensitive. Going against the fur is enough to give you shivers and is a bit unpleasant, but otherwise, it's a bit duller. I'm sure it's more fun for the person doing the petting than the one being pet. Were there humans where you're from, too?
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no subject
A doctor's job is never done. Or something along those lines. She doesn't mind; she's just very good at it, which means his attempts to skirt her eye aren't terribly successful, and for that she'd likely find it in her to apologize. She doesn't let it flavor the way she treats him; she's the same as before, just as patient and just as kind, and that little bit playful that says I'm not taking you lightly at all.
He's a good kid. )
I always enjoy the early mornings the most; they're about as peaceful as can be. You're always welcome to come visit even if it's just to have breakfast and a hot cup of coffee with me, you know.
( But as for the strange word, that mischief rears its head in the twinkle of her eye, but she doesn't tease him; she tucks a lock back over her ear and tucks her device away again, answering him upfront. )
It's just a term of endearment in my own language— the translation ability here doesn't always catch it, it seems. It's Swiss-German. It just boils down to... "sweetie", I suppose. Did you have any guesses on what it had been?
( She'll set about arranging the two salads and giving him somewhere to sit at the corner of her desk, bringing a rolling stool out from the other side of her to offer him. )
no subject
Maybe I will.
[ Maybe, of course. He doesn't know what to make of the offer, if he should make anything of it. He hasn't decided. ]
I don't know what Swiss-German is. I didn't have any guesses, I don't want to assume. But if I were to guess, sweetie wouldn't have been one of them.
[ That's not a way people have ever referred to him. He's not sweet. ]
Just not something people call me.
no subject
It's all right; there are many people here who have never heard of my country. And many who have. It's a little one called Switzerland, in between multiple other, larger countries, and wherever it borders on these countries, the language and cuisine has all taken heavy influence. Thus, being from the side bordering on Germany, I'm Swiss-German. I'll take my win for having surprised you, then, and being the first to call you as such.
I promise I don't take the honor lightly. ( She's teasingly severe in how she speaks it, breaking with another little grin that crinkles her nose with her amusement, and she sets to cracking open matching salads and getting the little container of dressing out to drizzle on her own, then offering it to him to try before he adds it to his own. ) It usually doesn't have to be a direct remark; it's just something to call people. Others translate to things like "little mouse", or "little bear", or "little rabbit"— "darling", "love", so on. Other countries sometimes use foods. Apparently a popular one is "pumpkin"...?
( Don't ask her to explain Americans; she never could. )
no subject
[ Said so simply, though he knows it's true. He doesn't sound insulted or bothered by the fact that she's the only one who will, too. Louis got his appearance and personality insulted by a girl who followed it up with a love confession. And his father -- he abruptly stops that train of thought and then nods. ]
I guess we don't call each other pet names very much. I mean, darling and sweetie are things.
[ There's a slight, momentary hint of amusement on his face. ]
Can you imagine me calling a deer "Little Bear"? I don't think she'd be very impressed.
[ Not that his interactions have been very impressive with them. He accepts the container with dressing, and puts a little bit on a leaf of lettuce, popping it into his mouth to test, then - satisfied, pours some over all of the vegetables. ]
no subject
( He certainly hasn't told her no yet, so she's sure he just doesn't particularly care, but she doesn't know where the line is drawn for his when. Despite speaking easily with one another, there were sure to be a lot of differences in their cultures and histories, social dynamics— she tries to remain mindful. But the tease he offers back makes her laugh, covering her mouth with the curl of slender fingers to try and muffle the abruptness of it. )
No, I don't suppose she would. My apologies, I didn't quite think that through before saying it. Though I do recall a fun bit of wordplay with someone I knew here, before. I used to be under Iris— I had deer traits. I don't remember if I've told you before. Ears and spots and the little tail, usually. He called me "my dear" and I had to ask if he was teasing me about my spots or not.
( Oh, good. He likes the vinaigrette. She'll gesture for him to add a little more with a softer smile, get a few more calories in him. Another little nod to his weight loss, and a sliver of her worry showing through, much as she tries to avoid addressing it directly. )
no subject
[ There's a momentary smirk settling on his features. It's maybe thinking about one of the Shishigumi calling him a pet name that wasn't simply "Boss". Or maybe one of the drama club members. Maybe if Juno had said he was sweet instead of calling him stubborn and scrawny. He's starting to relax, at least. The easy banter a welcome distraction from the things settling into the back of his mind. The ears on top of his head twitch a little, listening to her intently as he starts to slowly eat. One bite at a time. It has been awhile since he'd been very concerned about eating anything at all. ]
You were a deer? Did you enjoy it? Do people even enjoy turning into animals or partially? I don't enjoy transforming, but maybe you see it differently.
no subject
( Heh heh, en-deer-ment. But she smiles as if it truly is a privilege, as if she truly is happy— because she is. He's been kind around her and she's been interested in getting to know him better, and this is a good step toward that. He seemed a bit lonely and like to keep his cards close to his chest, harmful as that can be, and she wants to be able to alleviate even a small portion of that with company.
They'll take turns eating and speaking, back and forth, but the questions have her smile turning a bit baffled, because... well, no one has asked her anything like that before. She'll start poking through photos on her phone he'll see with the holographic projection to pull up a good example to show him. The antlers were hit and miss, Iris coming and going more often without them than with. And it's certainly not the racier photo from when she'd first arrived here, and everyone was chronicling their changes. )
I was indeed; see? As for enjoying it... I suppose that depends on the person, really. The effects of Iris were— pleasant, I suppose. If a bit overwhelming. The traits were mild enough that I didn't worry about them and they caused me no discomfort, and unobtrusive enough that I had no reason to dislike them, so I suppose I would say I enjoyed them. I could easily understand people with significantly more changes or different appearances not enjoying the process, though. Those who grow scales seem terribly uncomfortable with them, and all I had to deal with were velvety spots.
My penchant for letting them be touched hasn't changed at all, even under Sanguis with my canine traits. The sensitivity of the ears and tails have been about the same, and I've found it pleasant when others touch them. I think the novelty of it and the change in our nervous system makes it interesting to everyone and it's a kinder way to explore the changes instead of others.
( She hopes that isn't too much to admit to; she doesn't talk about how it'd felt to have the spots rubbed over, or the faint sensation of the velveteen antlers, or the awkward positions the tail forced on her in chairs or in bed sometimes. That isn't much better as a wolf. Generally-speaking, however, she just likes affection shared, so she never minds letting others do silly things like rub her ears— grabbing her tail is a different matter entirely, however. Don't Do That. )
no subject
Then he looks amused, finishing off a piece of his salad.]
Canines have really sensitive ears. And tails.
[ Says the guy who pulls a wolf's tail. ]
So are big cats', too. Like lions and tigers. Actually most large carnivores.
[ He taps his fork as he reminisces. ]
I was told by a lion that the best way to defend yourself against a large carnivore is to pull their tail. [ Amused. ] Though I can turn into those now. You know, I never much cared about being touched, but I imagine it's strange for humans to have fur suddenly available to be pet.
no subject
Yes, it seems they do. I suppose they have to have some weakness, hmm? Though I'm afraid pulling on my tail has quite a different effect. I'll have to kindly ask you not try. ( It'd be inappropriate to flip her "turnt" switch, after all. She's still trying to get control of that and it's proving rather difficult. ) Have you had your tail yanked on, then? I certainly hope not.
As for the fur, I suppose it's a little strange, but not so much. Skin is already an organ of the body, and it's incredibly sensitive. Going against the fur is enough to give you shivers and is a bit unpleasant, but otherwise, it's a bit duller. I'm sure it's more fun for the person doing the petting than the one being pet. Were there humans where you're from, too?