2. Well, I might call you Doctor.

[bestsir]

Who: Harry Goodsir and OPEN
What: Doctor's hours
Where: Harry's cabin, around town
When: Anytime during October, early November
Warnings: TBD

It's taken some weeks—including the awful voices and even, ironically, the words of Cornelius Hickey—for Goodsir to finally act on advice he'd given to Edward Little when they'd first arrived.

He starts by placing a notice on the board. Then he starts scavenging the town for all the medical supplies he can find, consolidating a store of them in his cabin. What he does manage to find, in combination with the contents of his surgeon's chest, isn't nearly as much as he would like, but it will do.

He has learned much, these last few weeks. That disease and infection is caused not by miasma, by tiny animalcules that may be spread by various forms of contact, and that wounds must be kept clean—disinfected—thus averting festering and gangrene. That there are compounds in food that keep the body healthy, and that not all foods contain those compounds. He tries not to dwell on the lives he might have saved with that knowledge on the expedition, and to focus on the here and now. As he said to Little: to live, and do what good he can.

And to try not to let his hatred of Cornelius Hickey consume him.

Comments

[bestsir]

"No?" Goodsir raises an eyebrow. "You sound like a man with suspicions of his own."

Or a proven record of sowing dissent.

[friendsfordinner]

"I know which of our number will decide to break this little uneasy truce first," he muses, with a little nod. Though Goodsir might be surprised at the assessment as Hickey answers,

"After all, our former Lieutenant still clings the most to what once was."

[bestsir]

Goodsir is surprised—and yet, after a moment's consideration, not. Little, he suspects, may be afflicted with a need to prove himself—to lay out justice that he was unable to give before, as a form of atonement perhaps.

And if he does act, Goodsir's not sure that he'd be willing to stop him.

But all right. He'll play along with Hickey's game for now. "I see. Very interesting. I wonder if I ought to have a word, as I have the man's ear, after all."

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey, who is always right and has done nothing wrong ever in his life, knows that Goodsir's realized he's right. Edward Little, who even now still clings to the vanities of command. Who tries so hard to live up to a role he never should have gotten. Obviously he's going to break.

"Words won't mean anything unless you have the will to act," Hickey points out. He does. Even Goodsir, for all his piety and holier-than-thou attitude also does. Little? Doesn't.

[bestsir]

"That may depend in part on what action is called for," Goodsir says. "I will speak to him, at the very least, and try to understand his mind."

And let him know that Hickey's spreading slander. Again.

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey's causing trouble, must be a day that ends in Y.

"Best of luck with that," says the man who isn't gonna do shit. "Now, unless there's something else you want from me? I think we can say this conversation is over and done—until next time, of course. We're stuck with each other, after all."

[bestsir]

That they are. Goodsir can't keep a grimace off his face.

"There's nothing that I want from you, Mr. Hickey, that your absence couldn't solve."

[friendsfordinner]

That grimace means that Hickey responds with a smile that could be described as crafty, could be described as shit-eating, and could be described as annoying. At the moment, he will happily settle for annoying the piss out of Goodsir.

"Harsh words," he teases. "But I'll take my leave. And probably see you again...mmm, tomorrow? Or the day after?"

But true to his word, he does start to head out.

[bestsir]

Goodsir decides he's not going to dignify that bait with an answer, and merely waits, wordlessly, until the door closes behind Hickey.