So he had been taken up for an experiment after all. Muraki had only had his suspicions before, but Peter had confirmed them neatly for him. Even if he wasn't going to let Muraki take a look at him, he'd proved himself a little bit useful at least. And here the doctor thought he might not even be a decent light-stand.
As touching as their little romantic drama had become, he would be more than happy to get the examination under way. He'd befitted from all of Landel's games so far, but there was no guarantee that he would continue to do so and there would always be time for Peter later. It wasn't as if they all had somewhere pressing to be.
Muraki nodded once. "Peter is right." About who needed to be looked at more, and also about the lights. He was willing to throw the boy a bone. His smile belayed some understanding, directed at Brainiac 5. "You should trust that he'll look after himself, for your sake as well as his own."
He indicated the bed with a casual sweeping gesture. "For now, just try to sit comfortably." He was from the 20th century, not the 21st, but that was an interesting assumption. Perhaps most of the patients he'd spoken to had come from that time, or thought they had. Strange, to consider that his present might be twenty or a hundred years in the past. A single lifetime away from the familiar.
Things hadn't changed much.
Back to business. "Peter, I need to ask you a favor." He turned and held his flashlight out to the boy. "Can you hold this and shine it where I tell you?" And not vomit everywhere at the sight of your boyfriend's blood. The squeamish ones were the worst by far. Blood was blood, it stained at worst. Bile, on the other hand, had no redeeming qualities.
no subject
As touching as their little romantic drama had become, he would be more than happy to get the examination under way. He'd befitted from all of Landel's games so far, but there was no guarantee that he would continue to do so and there would always be time for Peter later. It wasn't as if they all had somewhere pressing to be.
Muraki nodded once. "Peter is right." About who needed to be looked at more, and also about the lights. He was willing to throw the boy a bone. His smile belayed some understanding, directed at Brainiac 5. "You should trust that he'll look after himself, for your sake as well as his own."
He indicated the bed with a casual sweeping gesture. "For now, just try to sit comfortably." He was from the 20th century, not the 21st, but that was an interesting assumption. Perhaps most of the patients he'd spoken to had come from that time, or thought they had. Strange, to consider that his present might be twenty or a hundred years in the past. A single lifetime away from the familiar.
Things hadn't changed much.
Back to business. "Peter, I need to ask you a favor." He turned and held his flashlight out to the boy. "Can you hold this and shine it where I tell you?" And not vomit everywhere at the sight of your boyfriend's blood. The squeamish ones were the worst by far. Blood was blood, it stained at worst. Bile, on the other hand, had no redeeming qualities.