Symptoms of Distress [Aros]

[Layla Jimenez]

Staring blankly at the notes in front of her, Layla only pretended to be inspecting the details of the patient she had just visited. While she looked focused, her mind was trying to calm the frustration that had been building up since that morning. The only thing that could make her day worse was if she got sacked. Her first reaction was to welcome it, she was tired of some aspects of the training process, and she was tired of some of her fellow trainees. But she allowed her thoughts to run through her mind until she calmed down, finding that she probably just needed to let the day end and have some rest. She tried her best to smile at a Mediwitch she didn't know pass by, before closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.

Opening her eyes, she applied a fresh dose of effort towards the pages before her, and reviewed all her notes before signing off on them before adding it to the pile of other patient files the Healer would have to look at. The Dragonpox incident was almost entirely gone, and there were only a few people here and there reporting symptons. Now that things were starting to get back to normal, Layla was now able to see a broader spectrum of illnesses from people who brought themselves to St. Mungos. Some faces were beginning to look familar, the ones that panicked at a recurring cough or a rash and flooed to the hospital once a week. The ones that Layla really looked forward to were the ones that were things she had only read about and had yet to see. Every time she picked up a fresh piece of parchment to see a new patient, she hoped he or she was one of those.

Walking to the very end of the hallway where self-admitting patients were attended, Layla walked into the room with the parchment levitating beside her and the quill already marking the date and time. While she was still in training, there wasn't too much she was allowed to do without supervision, the most she could do now was get as much information from the new patient before the Healer was allowed to see him. "Good morning," she greeted with a small smile. She saw that the patient was rather young, and wondered if he should still be in school. She would know soon enough as she got all the pertinent information from him. In the meantime, she had to push back the remainder of her bad mood, and try to help him.

[Aros Orphe]

Aros hated hospitals, especially magical ones. The walls were too white and everything had the smell on disinfectant on them. Everything was just so white which reminded him of sanitariums. Madhouses, looneybins, cuckoo's nest, Aros hated them. The voices in his head hated them especially, except for one particular voice. It had told him that it was a great place for him to get the help of an expert, one that it believed he needed.

They all pointedly ignored that voice.

The reason why Aros was in St. Mungos was a particularly embarrassing reason that he wanted to forget entirely definitely did not want to relive. He had been enjoying a pint in Knockturn Alley when a drunk bumped into him and demanded Aros to apologize on his feet. Aros did no such thing and he promptly banished the drunk's ears. You simply did not start a fight with a Deva member.

Of course, Aros became too cocky when fighting the drunk. After mocking him, Aros stupidly turned his back and his back was hit by an unknown spell. After making literal mincemeat of his opponent, he started to feel the embarrassing effects of the spell.

Which led him here, standing in front of a pretty woman in St. Mungos who was looking at him with far less respect than he would've like.

"Erm...I got hit with a spell last night and I unfortunately do not know the counter-curse. I tried everything and yet it still won't go away." he ended awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck childishly.

"Yeah," exclaimed a squeaky yet loud voice from inside his pants, "This dude freaks out just 'cause I can talk now! What's really the big deal?"

Aros sighed; if anyone from the Deva heard about his...predicament, he was going to die of embarrassment. He looked the healer straight in the eyes, "Yeah, my thing can talk now. What of it? I want you to fix it NOW!" he yelled, eyes and cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

[Layla Jimenez]

Listening intently, Layla concentrated on keeping her face neutral. She tried her best not to have any reaction to what any patient ever said. Some patients had been embarrassed with the result of spells gone awry or afraid to get in trouble when using less-than-honorable substances, so she tried to just take each piece of information as an important part of helping them get better. The man's story seemed typical; spells get created all the time and counter measures are not always at hand. She nodded sympathetically, trying to keep calm so that he would be reassured by her. There had been a lot of 'training' regarding how to interact with patients, but Layla found that it was a lot of common sense. If a witch or wizard was coming to St. Mungos, it was because there was something that outreached their power and knowledge. They would be easily stressed and it was Layla's job to make the healing process speedy and effective.

She gave him a cursory glance as he spoke, looking for the affected area where the spell hit him. He seemed fine, aside from the bit of anxiety and the obvious mortification. She was about to ask him exactly where the spell had struck him when she was interrupted by a third, unexpected voice in the room. Her head automatically tilted downward in response to the sound, turning in the direction from which the voice came. She realized that she had glanced directly at his pants, and snapped her head back up to see that he was looking directly at her. A deep blush washed over her cheeks for having been caught at staring, and she barely registered that the patient was now shouting at her.

"Um..." Her voice was weak and even her quill had stopped taking notes, and Layla had to kick start her brain into operation. She was supposed to be professional! It was just difficult when someone's privates were talking to you. She concentrated on the man's glare instead, and soon her quill was rushing across the page. "Ok, sir," she said, this time with a bit more confidence. "We're going to help you, of course. I'll just ask you a few questions before the Healer comes in. Please take a seat and relax." Gripping her wand, Layla wish she knew what to do with her other hand. Part of her wanted to die from laughter, but the more dominant part was sending a fresh supply of blood to her face.

"My name is Layla," she offered gently, hoping a small introduction would ease him into calming down a bit. "Your name?"