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/ By 0-neon-0 [+Watch]

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[center It felt like an eternity that he was left in his own company. Not, of course, because they'd neglected to check in with him, but because he could do nothing until this examination was over. It seemed like the only reason he was even doing this was for proof that he was A-okay. No one would question an official visit to state that nothing was wrong with him after his tumble, and it was all the better. The last thing Dexter Quinn wanted was for some bloke to move in on his territory.

After all, the business world was a figurative shark tank. You showed any weakness whatsoever and others would take advantage. He could recall not so long ago when one of his associates had come under fire. His health and emotional state had come into question, the media serving only to kindle the rapidly spreading disquiet amongst clients and shareholders alike.

It seemed like an eternity ago already, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of concern should any of this get out. They'd been as discreet as possible, and he'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't want an ambulance. No medical bus, no attention, no panic. If anyone else fell down the stairs and activated EMS, it was fine, but if one ever pulled up to his place, it'd be front page news.

Day-to-day? He dealt with some pretty rank bastards. Always after what was [i his]. This was one of the reasons that the ginger both loved and despised the business world. There was something ever so satisfying about staking a claim before your competitor - beating them to punch, as they called it.

Really, it was all a vicious game. Money was just a bargaining tool, used to base threats or alliances, and depending upon how you spun it, it only came back to bite you [i some] of the time.

Already, he was contemplating all of the time he was losing with his ass just plastered in place this way. He should have been in a meeting - renewing contracts - certainly not glaring bitterly at the overly enthusiastic 'patients' plastering the latest office PSA.

[i 'Paging Doctor Reidl to Exam Room three--']

Snapping immediately out of his daze, Dexter glanced up at the small plaque that announced his own as the corresponding area.

[i Finally.] Before long, he'd be able to get out of there and get some actual work done. Rubbing impatiently at his eyes, he tried not to look [i too] salty for when the doctor came in. It wasn't the physician's fault he'd been careless, after all. Absently, he wondered if it would be a man or a woman. Not that it mattered, exactly. His only purpose here was a quick assessment, and then he'd be skipping his way through the door-

[i [#1cc677 Wait a goddamn minute-]]

Startled by the sight that came striding into the room, he glanced back through the doorway, wondering if this was some joke. This couldn't have been his doctor?

[i [+maroon "Hallo! I’m Doctor Riedl and I’ll be your physician today, Mister Quinn."]]

[i [#1cc677 Hot fucking damn-]]

[i [#1cc677 "Yes- ah-"]] English? Why couldn't he remember it?

Blinking a few times, Dexter licked his lips, brow suddenly furrowed in bemusement. Was this karma repaying him for jacking up his day? Was his unlucky start really just a setup for what was to come?

Frank Sinatra suddenly began to filter through his mind and he was lost - staring the good doctor down like some sort of automaton.

The best had yet to come [i indeed], and now he was staring at the face of this handsome Austrian gent, completely forgetting why he was there in the first place.

[#1cc677 "Yes, a strange... happenstance. Most of what's bruised is my pride, I think, but my wrist hurts quite a bit."] Enough that it was already beginning to bruise and swell, and whomever had tended to him had wrapped him a little too tight. His fingertips were going numb.

Still staring, he had to remind himself to blink. Nobody liked creepy serial killer eyes. That rubbish was [i not] cute.]
  d e x t e r / 0-neon-0 / 2y 71d 6h 38m 28s
[center Another early morning, yet another day of sifting through and making sense of a menagerie of patient’s symptoms. Early on in Matthias’ career the man loathed having to serve his time as a primary care physician. It was not because he disliked the people who sought out treatment, though. As a young doctor, the Austrian-born man wanted to focus in time and energy on his specialty of orthopedic surgery. It had been a great annoyance because it felt like everyone treated having a runny nose like they were dying of a malignant brain tumor. It was hypochondriacs that initially made Matthias run to the hills away from General Practice. There was just no way the man could stay sane when often people had a cold or needed and update on their inoculations.]

[center However, he did find that the only good thing about fulfilling his clinic hours were the kids who came in for a check-up, school physical, etc. He felt bad that a lot of them were scared to be seen by a doctor, but Matthias tried his best to make the experience less traumatizing. It was the little things that seemed to make a difference for children. Like, whenever a child had to get their scheduled immunizations Matthias let them choose the colored band-aids they wanted. Sometimes he even drew little faces on the outside of the bandage and gave the child a lollipop before sending the off with their parents. Most children seemed to focus on Matthias talking, though. They generally found his accent intriguing. Therefore, simply chatting with them helped soothe their nerves. His pediatric patients didn’t even refer to him by his name. Just Doctor Austria as soon as they found out where he was from.]

[center And, that’s generally what the man’s day consisted of so far. While it allowed Matthias to have a well-deserved breather from his ortho surgery residency, he was suspicious. Nothing was ever [i this] simple. The man just felt that something was coming. What it was, Matthias did not know. But he couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for the day ahead.]

[center As time wore on, Matthias reviewed a multitude of x-rays and the like with a senior physician just wanting a consult with a nearby resident doctor. That was between patients in the clinic. His previous patient was a young woman to whom he told tested positive on her pregnancy test. While she hadn’t taken the news too lightly, she wasn’t angry as she left with a referral to an OB/GYN and an anti-nausea prescription to be taken on an as needed basis. Matthias had always been somewhat skittish about telling females they were pregnant. But that was because the father of a past patient assaulted Matthias after he shared the news of the teen girl’s pregnancy. The male hadn’t been able to understand why the father would attack the physician that was simply doing his job. It was just the unexpected perils of GP work.]

[center For a moment Matthias found himself being pulled aside by yet another one of his superiors. This time there was a patient who presented with several broken bones, difficulty breathing, and paralysis of his lower limbs after falling from a roof of a house. There was a considerable amount of back and forth on how to go about treatment, something that wasn’t unusual. While Matthias was never opposed to learning something from those more experienced than himself, as a doctor, he wasn’t easily swayed away from his convictions. He always back himself up with facts and even examples to support his medical opinion. This facet; his extreme attention to detail, [i usually] worked in Matthias’ favor. And if it didn’t, the man tried to turn it into a learning experience instead of an outright failure.]

[center [i ‘Paging Doctor Riedl to Exam Room Three. Paging Doctor Riedl to Exam Room Three.’]]

[center The voice on the intercom made Matthias excuse himself from his current conversation. He then swung by the nurse’s station to pick up the corresponding file and to get the general report of what he’ll be walking into.]

[center [#7b72b6 “Male, twenty-six. He came in after falling down some stairs. He hit his head and his shoulder took much of the force from the fall. No concussion. He already had x-rays done and are in the file for your review.”] the nurse nodded, noticeably exasperated. Matthias sympathized with the woman greatly. Work in a hospital really took its toll. [#be0407 “Thank you very much, Nurse Jacobs. Keep up the good work!”] the man offered her a smile before opening the file to check its contents. He did so as he walked towards the exam room he had been assigned to. Once at the door he gave a healthy knock, letting a moment pass before walking in.]

[center [#be0407 “Hallo! I’m Doctor Riedl and I’ll be your physician today, Mister Quinn.”] Matthias greeted, finding himself slowly returning to the more chipper side of things. [#be0407 “So, I’ve been told you took an unfortunate tumble down some stairs?”] he probed, which was standard procedure. He placed Dexter’s x-rays on a wall mounted light board before turning the light on. It quickly became evident that nothing in the man’s neck, shoulder, or back was broken. It certainly didn’t take a brain surgeon to see that. But he’d address those after examining Dexter’s shoulder. [#be0407 “I can tell you nothing is broken, but do tell me about your pain levels. Where is it located? How severe is it? Are you experiencing any loss of motion in your arm there?”]]

[center Matthias knew that he probably sounded a bit automated. But it just happened when you’re always in and out of patient examinations. Plus, he was working to be a surgeon, not a primary care physician. Generally, in surgery the patient was out under anesthesia, not fully conscious like Dexter. Regardless, Matthias’ only goal was to help the man before him and get him on the right track to recovery with the right types of therapy…]
  [Riedl] / FrenchBaguette / 2y 72d 14h 6m 48s
[center Usually his mornings tended to be full of excitement - and no, not the sort most might've suspected him of. Usually it involved ripping himself out of his sheets and hopping into the shower before he had to rush into office. Even breakfast was typically prepared by the time his feet touched the polished wood floors.

[i Usually], it was a light morning meal, then a short business call on his way in, a ridiculous ride up to a ridiculously numbered floor to head into his office, and his second green tea, non fat, iced latte with coconut milk. You know, because starting the day off right [i did] matter.

Every day, it went off without a hitch, and he was back home by the early evening. No complications, no mess.

...or so he'd [i thought.]

See, the issue with moving at such dangerously set pace was that you missed all sorts of shit. You missed holidays, missed friends, missed news, and oh- sometimes? You missed the [i fucking] stairs.

Dexter was still reeling from that one. Seething as he sat on a small examination table where the nurses had placed him for the time being. Someone had checked him for any signs of a concussion, but he'd been too spaced to really keep up. It just didn't make any [i sense]. Of all the foolishness he could have come across in a day, why [i that]?

He'd gone sky-diving, bungie jumping, snowboarding, free climbing, and in all of his experience, not once had he ever sustained a serious injury. So, [i why] in the actual [i hell] was it that he was sitting in the doctor's office for an unlucky spill down the stairs, cradling his arm to his chest?

Hair ruffled and cheeks flushed, he cut eyes at the small banner advertising good health practise, deciding instead to sift through a few messages.

Really? His secretary had called his mother? Dropping his head forward, he pinched the bridge of his nose and took several breaths. With each that filled his chest, he could feel the frustration melting away. The physical tension, however, had yet to leave. Already, he was sure bruises were forming. His shoulder had connected the hardest besides his head or the arm that had yet to be determined as broken or merely injured.

Now that his adrenaline wasn't exactly numbing him up, he could feel the aches really set in.

[i It's not so terrible.] a small voice told him, despite the way he was gritting his teeth.

He combed fingers gingerly through his red locks, careful not to make any sudden movements for fear of exacerbating anything.

After this, he was going to need a long, hot soak.]
  d e x t e r / 0-neon-0 / 2y 72d 17h 42m 14s
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