06-28-2018, 11:14 AM
“[color=black]If he ever stops, Cooper, you owe me a study buddy.” Radeken didn’t feel sorry for Bastille. Maybe because she couldn’t - insert pseudointellectual musings on morality, empathy, etcetera - or maybe because she had a good guess of what had happened, and figured it wasn’t dangerous enough to raise a huge fuss over. Or, no, it was dangerous. What Bastille was doing to himself was awful, even from the objective point that Rad tried to see everything from. But you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette. And sometimes you just gotta supply emotionally volatile, ill colleagues with psychotropic drugs to make progress. It was no skin off her nose, only a little bit of figurative red on her greedy little hands.
Radeken eased back when Shay approached, surreptitiously slipping something into the bag slung over her shoulder as they proceeded to fuss. Truth be told, the only reason Radeken was here was to shove a new treatment into Bastille’s lap but seeing as he was very, very busy, she supposed she would just have to wait. Sometimes this guy’s rickety stability and substance abuse was a godsend, other times it was a real kick in the teeth. Don’t poison yourself like that unless I can use it. Oh well. She would still be recording this instance in a vain attempt to wring whatever new knowledge she could from it. Who would she be if she didn’t?
Rad found a wall to lean against, cool as she could manage. “[color=black]I’ve got something that could help.” She said it like it was some award-winning punchline, picking at her nailbeds and smiling down at her palm. “[color=black]But I mean. Maybe it’d be better to hand this one off to Rin. Your pick, really.” Rin, the one who didn’t chew her patients up and spit them back out while calling it a medical practice. In the interest of having a fit and living Bastille tomorrow, it would probably be best to have her take him. Rad could think of a dozen potentially lethal chemical cocktails she’d like to try on him right now just for the hell of it, including what she had just tucked back into her bag.
Radeken eased back when Shay approached, surreptitiously slipping something into the bag slung over her shoulder as they proceeded to fuss. Truth be told, the only reason Radeken was here was to shove a new treatment into Bastille’s lap but seeing as he was very, very busy, she supposed she would just have to wait. Sometimes this guy’s rickety stability and substance abuse was a godsend, other times it was a real kick in the teeth. Don’t poison yourself like that unless I can use it. Oh well. She would still be recording this instance in a vain attempt to wring whatever new knowledge she could from it. Who would she be if she didn’t?
Rad found a wall to lean against, cool as she could manage. “[color=black]I’ve got something that could help.” She said it like it was some award-winning punchline, picking at her nailbeds and smiling down at her palm. “[color=black]But I mean. Maybe it’d be better to hand this one off to Rin. Your pick, really.” Rin, the one who didn’t chew her patients up and spit them back out while calling it a medical practice. In the interest of having a fit and living Bastille tomorrow, it would probably be best to have her take him. Rad could think of a dozen potentially lethal chemical cocktails she’d like to try on him right now just for the hell of it, including what she had just tucked back into her bag.