a/n: Hope isn't imagining things. Hello, Dr. Pelias!
Almost no editing because I am typing this in the public library parking lot!
All the good things belong to Monolithsoft, which unfortunately doesn't include Pelias.
The door frame continued to be empty. Hope gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm fine. Don't worry," she reassured an unconscious Quincy. "It's just a malfunction, either the door or maybe I'm the one malfunctioning."
The empty space answered. "Excuse me? I was told the patient was already sedated, okay?" The door slid closed and soft footsteps approached the gurney.
Hope stood up from her stool and leaned over Quincy to get a look at the speaker. The gurney had blocked the sight of a shorter than average Ma-non, wearing goggles and something that resembled a human lab coat.
"Oh my," said Hope, "I'm so sorry. I thought I was imagining things."
"Yes, well. You look lively enough, so I'm going to to to guess that the patient isn't you. Or is it?"
Hope gestured slightly, managing to indicate the length of a snoozing Quincy with the gentlest motion. "If you mean Quincy, he's waiting for the final treatment. Please don't disturb him."
"Petalose, right?"
"Excuse me, but who are you?"
"I don't like to assume, but I'm going to cut this short." He reached up to poke Quincy in the leg, hard enough that Quincy shuddered and woke up. Hope, the mildest of people, formed a very strong dislike of this rude xeno. She couldn't help but make a tiny affronted noise, but Quincy, the injured party, remained goofy and mild.
"Hi!" he said brightly. "Can I help you?"
"That's my line, I think," said the Ma-non, snagging a spare stool and climbing on top. "I'd like to try a little experiment on on on you, if you agree. Because I'm pretty sure I can do a better job than whatever the barbarians with bad hand writing (here he waved up at the marks on Quincy's chest) are planning to to to do."
Hope immediately liked this xeno very much.
She must be a little shocked, she decided. It was high time to pull herself together. Responding this wildly to an unknown xeno, asking Quincy inappropriate questions, indulging in selfish anger, not to mention almost convincing herself that she was malfunctioning, it didn't matter that it was all internal (except for that question, but hopefully Quincy didn't mind). She needed, no, Quincy needed her to be professional. She had to do her job as a Mediator, which included trying to look at things clearly. This was how she protected NLA after all. She looked encouragingly at the Ma-non. "Excuse me, but perhaps introductions would be nice. I'm Hope."
The Ma-non got the hint. "Great. I'm Pelias, and he's the subject. Now take off this paper thing and we can start."
"Okay," said Quincy agreeably, starting to slip one arm free. The gown slid dangerously.
"No!" said Hope quickly. With a calmer voice, she added, "Quincy, you just lie still."
"Okay," he said, equally obedient.
Pelias blew through his long snout, making a rubbery squeal far more eloquent than a human raspberry. "You humans are weird. Going all literary and stuff with this emotion throttling method. Not that I disagree that you need it. I'm not alone. I have a colleague that has done research on the extremes of human emotions, and his results would stiffen your dimples, do you follow?"
"I'm not sure I do...," Hope said.
He wasn't listening, pulling out a few coils of wire and a unopened medi-pac from the pockets of his coat and piling them on the small wedge of gurney next to Quincy's hip. "The result is poetic, which I appreciate, but also deeply impractical, which I do do do not. And don't you also find it weird that the solution is sitting right next to each other, but instead those dimwits are ready to slice and dice? Anyway, take off your gown. Please."
"Okay," Quincy said, but Hope had put a restraining hand at his neckline.
"No."
"I said 'please', right? That's important for treatment, or so they keep telling me. That and consent. He said okay, okay? Unless you want to do this the easy way."
"No, and no, you're mistaken. Quincy is ... he feels for someone else."
Quincy had woken up enough to catch on to the misunderstanding. He choked on a laugh mixed with a cough and grinned at the Ma-non. "She's a Mediator," he said, by way of explanation.
"Yes," Hope confirmed.
"Ah. Busy body division."
"Excuse me!" Hope stiffened, but Quincy was wheezing now. "Quincy, please relax." He nodded, trying not to laugh any harder.
"Like I should talk," said the Ma-non with shrug of his tiny shoulders. "Look, eventually they're going to escort me out."
"What?" Hope seemed to have nothing but unhelpful short outbursts left.
"I'd accuse them of professional jealousy, but I think it's mostly they're irritated I don't fill out paperwork," the Ma-non said with a conspiratorial nod towards the closed door. "Personally, I think informed consent is a myth. You're facing an unspeakable choice or the good fortune of of of me, right? And I did say please!" He shrugged and piled a few more trinkets onto the gurney. "Usually I wait until the subject is dead, which saves a lot of of of bother. But I really want to to to test how much I can manipulate your consciousnesses. Ethically, or at least ethically enough."
He tugged one drooping ear and tilted his head at Hope. "If you mediate the situation, then I promise to help this guy, deal?"
a/n: My state is a paradise with no weather. The trees that got knocked down? Mystery. My loss of power and internet? Same.
Next up: Hopefully my internet. Hope does more paperwork.