Paging Dr. Love (Hastie; casual)

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

Guy was in trouble, again. He had been eating at a previously approved restaurant when he found a hair in his pasta. It had resulted in screaming, flailing, and a good amount of tears. He had run from the restaurant without paying, sobbing and wheezing, and headed to the hospital. He was scratching at his arm, shaking, twitching, trying to make himself to vomit but not being able to.

Guy burst into the hospital, dropping against the reception desk, shouting at the nurse there to get him help, that he was going to die. He smacked the desk with an open palm loudly in threes, demanding a doctor, demanding help. The nurse tried to calm him down, asking him to fill out the papers, but Guy couldn't do that.

He needed help, he was going to die.

Turning from the desk, smacking his hip now, still weeping pathetically. He shoved two fingers into his mouth, trying to trigger some kind of gag reflex but nothing happened.

He couldn't breath.

Oh God, he was going to die.

Guy spun, trying to find anything to save himself with and then he spotted a man in a white coat. He practically threw himself at him, grabbing his sleeve and shouting pleas at him to save him between whimpers and broken sobs.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

Typically, it was rather rude for one person to practically throw themselves at another, asking them to help in some way.
But, being a Doctor, Hastie was far from uncomfortable or unfamiliar with the situation.
And besides, the poor sod looked positively distraught - even if he wasn't a medical professional, Lanyon probably wouldn't have even tried to stop himself from helping in some way.

In all fairness, the man really shouldn't have compared the stranger to his regular patients - those being children, of course. But it was rather difficult not to relate the human being stood (for now) in front of him, currently clutching at the sleeve of his white coat with a child. The man was positively whimpering, and appeared to be having some sort of breakdown. Fairness aside, it was probably the sobbing that completed the image this person emitted of a typical four-year-old.
And he'd seen enough of them to know the course of action.

Really, Hastie should have then taken a moment to get the attention of somebody else - he was, after all, a paediatrician. But it turned out the Doctor didn't even spare a second to consider that fact before his mind immediately began processing how to deal with the situation. Because it needed to be dealt with; he was causing quite a fuss.

"Calm down, it's alright," Lanyon turned, and steadied the stranger with both hands as he spoke. He was really extremely grateful that he hadn't been holding anything at the time - having just placed down his cup of coffee somewhere behind him (later, Hastie would find the cup mysteriously missing; one of the nurses had an awful habit of mistaking his coffee for hers)
"Can you tell me what happened?"

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

"I'm going to die." Guy kept repeating, crying and shaking even harder. He shook the doctor by his arm. "Don't let me die, please." He couldn't think in straight lines, everything was muddled and colored with fear. Shaking the doctor again, Guy tried to focus long enough to tell him what was wrong.

That's when he noticed that he was being touched by the doctor. No matter clean the doctor looked, it didn't mean he was. Guy stepped back quickly, batting at his arms like it would clean him off.

This was not good, not good at all.

He had stopped sobbing, hiccuping dryly and gagging instead. It was terrifying, knowing he was going to die.

"I-I-I...there was...I ate...oh God, I'm....die...I ate...it....stomach...." Guy shook, hands quivering uncontrollably now.

He wanted to wipe his face but his hands weren't clean any more. They had touched the doctor and where the doctor touched him, they weren't safe any more.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

What shocked the Doctor enough to make his eyes widen considerably was the man's blatant claim that he was 'going to die'. Which was fair enough, really. Hastie honestly had no clue at all what was going on, however, but it was his job to find out. And, hopefully, to fix it. Somehow.

Though then the stranger suddenly stepped away - looking for all the world as if he had just touched something truly horrible, and was trying to swipe any trace of it from his person. Lanyon would have been almost offended, if he wasn't so concerned at the time of course.
Instead, the Doctor too took a step backward, raising his hands (palms facing out) in the universal gesture for surrender. The other man was shaking, awfully so, but Hastie knew that approaching him again would probably only cause more harm than good. Perhaps he had problems with physical contact - wondering briefly whether this was the case almost caused the man to also ponder on why someone would come to the hospital at all if they couldn't tolerate someone being particularly near. Unless, as was obvious, he really did have some fear that he was dying.

The next words somewhat worked to solidify that fact.

Lanyon frowned slightly, not moving his hands where they were raised - so the other could see them - in the air.
"Listen to me, you're not going to die if you can calm down and tell me clearly what happened, okay? Can you do that?" At least the stranger hadn't burst into hysterics over Hastie's accent, yet, which was quite a nice feeling. Patients had been doing that quite a lot, lately. Then again - they were all very young.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

Whimpering, Guy pulled into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. His fingers dug into his upper arms, still tapping out their rhythm as he wheezed softly, whistling a little. He needed to calm down. The doctor couldn't help him unless he calmed down. Guy nodded and rubbed his mouth, trying to stop the sobs and the shakes.

Once he was calm enough to form words, Guy swallowed a few times and tried to tell him what happened, but all that came out was a reedy breath.

6 false starts later, Guy was able to actually get words out of his mouth.

"There....was a.....hair...." Guy took a deep breath, shuddering and his stomach churning. "In my food." Guy gagged just from saying it, pressing his knuckles against his mouth.

That's all it took for him to finally spew. Turning away from the doctor, Guy stumbled to the nearest trashcan and emptied his stomach in violent, heaving lurches. He wanted to hold onto the trashcan to steady himself but he couldn't, his hands latched tightly onto his arms. He'd probably have bruises from it the next day but he didn't care.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

The man seemed to be having some trouble calming down, so Hastie waited patiently as he attempted to do so. The concern already evident on his face began slowly increasing every time he tried to speak - until it was all Lanyon could do not to begin barking out orders to help immediately at the surrounding nurses. The only thing stopping him from doing this, however, was the stranger's earlier reaction.
Which only really worked to make things all the more difficult.

Finally, the words were out. And also was the rest of the other man's contents, it seemed. The Doctor heard a barely suppressed snicker from somewhere in the direction of a small crowd of patients - most of whom had been waiting the entire morning for appointments - which aided in increasing his frown.
In all honesty, he had expected the incident to have been something involving a harmful substance (bleach, for example - which wouldn't have been the first time Hastie had to deal with such situation) - but nevertheless, if the man's reaction was so violent to a commonly-occurring 'hair in his food', he would simply have to do his best to help.

It was never really pleasant to find something nasty in one's food, in all fairness.

Lanyon approached the man, one hand shooting out to steady him by automatic reflex. Fortunately, it lingered little more than a second before the Doctor immediately drew it back - he must remember not to touch him, as it would probably only upset the poor sod even more.
"It's alright, okay? I promise you're not going to die, just calm down," he briefly wondered if the man would be able to calm down even more than he had already managed, but decided to ask of it anyway.
"You're going to be fine, trust me. It... it happens all the time." Hastie fought to gain eye contact somewhere through the middle of his sentences, which involved a little bit of ducking in order to find out where, exactly, the stranger was looking.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

Guy wasn't completely oblivious to the people who were laughing at him, but he didn't care. People laughed at him all the time. They didn't understand what was going on inside his head when he freaked out. They didn't know that he saw his entire family splattered over a hill and that death terrified him more than anything. They didn't know that he knew of all the bacteria and potential diseases that could live on hair that could be transferred to food that he ingested.

They didn't know.

Guy pulled away from the trashcan and groped in his pocket for a packet of tissues he kept there, sealed tightly away. He opened the baggie and pulled out another, smaller baggie in which there was a single tissue. That baggie was opened and thrown away and the tissue was used to wipe his mouth. Guy hated vomiting. It was disgusting.

The doctor was talking again, telling him would be okay, that it happened all the time and that just sent Guy into a round of dry heaves.

It happened all the time.

It happened all the time.

It happened all the time.

God that was horrible.

Guy got out another tissue and repeated the mouth wiping routine and looked at the doctor, his eyes red and puffy from the crying. "I don't want to die." Guy said in a small, terrified voice. In the background, somebody commented that freaks had their own wards for a reason but Guy didn't hear them. He just looked at the doctor with pleading eyes.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

He attempted somewhat of a reassuring smile, after it became clear that something he had said (perhaps it had been the last thing - which wasn't, he had to admit, particularly clever) didn't help at all - but only succeeded in looking rather sheepish. He thoroughly hoped that the man hadn't heard the rude comments being made in the space around them - which was a little bit useless, really. Of course he would have heard them, the people weren't putting any effort into trying to be very quiet, after all.
Which only sent Lanyon into questioning the manners (or lack thereof) some people showed.

The man replied, again, in a voice that did enough to remind Hastie one of the reasons he had chosen to become a Doctor anyway - and also to persuade him to immediately glance around the room with an extremely irritated stare. Not only was it not professional for people to be allowing the patients to make such comments - but he even spotted a few members of staff who seemed to be chuckling quietly.
With somewhat of a disapproving glare (and the internal promise that he would certainly be speaking to those at some point later), Lanyon switched his gaze back to the man before him.

His expression startled the man, at first. Perhaps it was his eyes - not just the clear emotion and plea behind them, but for the fact that they seemed to (maybe it was just the light, or the rush of the city finally getting to his head) unfortunately closely resemble Holly's. An incredible shade of blue, really, which provoked more than a shred of anger at the fact that people had been so awful as to laugh at him.

"Good," he responded to the stranger's words of 'I don't want to die quickly.
"Because I don't want you to either."

Not bothering to cast another glance around, Hastie walked forward to stand beside the man, beckoning for him to walk in the direction of one of the examination rooms - which were fortunately away from the eyes of the rest of the emergency department.
"I'm Doctor Lanyon, by the way."

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

When the doctor more or less motioned to herd Guy, he wasn't resisted. The doctor was going to help him, he wasn't going to let him die. He didn't want him to die. That was a good feeling. Most people didn't care about Guy; some, he would go so far as to say, would have preferred it if he did. He was a bother, he knew it. People didn't get why he was the way he was, he was just a freak.

Dr. Lanyon didn't think he was a freak though, he wanted to help. Guy hurried to the exam room that the doctor had been directing him to and laid himself down on the exam bed. He knew it was clean, it had new paper on it, so he didn't have any trouble curling into a ball on top of it and looking at the doctor with the same, pitiful look.

"My name's Guy. Guy Ananke." He answered after he was in the room. He already felt better being away from the trashcan turned barf bag and the people in the emergency room. Guy always felt sick around people, he couldn't help it really.

He didn't know what to do around them and they weren't exactly clean. But this exam room was clean, very, very clean in fact, and Guy felt safer in it.

It also helped that there was no one laughing at him anymore.

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

Truth be told, Hastie didn't really know what to do with himself. Obviously, the man (Guy Ananke, as he helpfully informed) expected the Doctor to do something. But what, precisely, that was - he didn't have a clue.
Which was a terrible thing for him to have to admit.

Despite the fact that the examination room was almost exactly the same in layout as those elsewhere in the hospital, Lanyon found himself missing, slightly, the cheerfully bright colours of the walls and decorations in the paediatrics department. Though he did tend to help out in the ER on frequent occasions now, the familiarity was quite comforting.
Considering the fact that Guy did resemble somewhat of an overgrown child (simply an observation, not a window for judgement), he too seemed a little out of place surrounded by the relatively empty blue walls.

What to do, what to do...

"Has this happened before, Mr Ananke?"
It was best to know, really. If it had, he'd just have to find out what had happened the other time, and if he hadn't, then Hastie would have to miraculously find some way to calm him down enough to forget about it. He understood why it was so terrible for the man - or at least, he thought he understood well enough - and was going to at least attempt to use his power of 'rational reasoning' (one that every Doctor was fortunate to have) to find out further what was wrong.
He wasn't nosy, was he? Simply concerned.
Whether that is the same thing is debatable.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

Guy slumped on the exam table, rubbing his face roughly, trying to get a hold of himself. He was at the doctor's he was going to be okay. This one wanted to help him. That was good. That meant Guy wasn't going to die. Guy took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No it's never happened before." Guy snapped, a bit more forceful then he had planned. He was angry. That restaurant had been on his approved list, meaning it was clean and safe. And, since it was clean and safe for him to eat there, no it had never happened. Guy took extensive precautions for it not to happen.

Extensive precautions.

Guy stopped rubbing his face and dropped his hands into his lap, looking at Dr. Lanyon. He wasn't crying anymore but his eyes were still red rimmed and his cheeks shone. He hadn't been aware that he was childlike before, now he was back to being the man he normally was. Sniffling loudly, Guy grabbed a tissue and blew his nose then hopped up to wash his hands in the sink with the same vigorous routine of a surgeon. Drying his hands off, Guy went back to the examination table, much calmer.

"What can you do to help me?"

[DR. HASTIE LANYON]

It hadn't happened before - Hastie was unsure whether this was a blessing or not.
Well, it seemed that he'd be trying to 'talk the man down', so to speak.
And if that didn't work? Well, the Doctor was fairly sure that (however much he truly didn't like the idea) he would be able to muster up enough meanness to get him out of the hospital some other way. Though he truly hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Being purposefully mean wasn't something he was very good at.
He'd probably have to get one of the nurses to do it.

"What can you do to help me?"

Lanyon took a deep breath. He didn't want to provoke the man into anything again (the vomiting really wasn't at all good), and so thought it best to choose his words carefully.
Unfortunately, he'd never been able to do that very well.

"Honestly? Not much."
Bugger.
Hastie's own eyes widened at his words, and he immediately flew into another sentence.
"But if you did happen to pick anything up from it, then I can safely say that your natural immune system will have got rid of it by now. You have to give it some credit, after all - it's really rather brilliant. Sometimes you can fight off bacteria better than we can."
The Doctor smiled warily, in the hopes that he hadn't just spurred Guy even further into panic.

[GUY "PSYCHE" ANANKE]

"Honestly? Not much."

Guy's sharp blue eyes sparked and narrowed angrily. "You're a doctor." He said evenly. "You're supposed to help people. I need help now." Guy said sternly, smacking his thigh in three loudly. His left eye gave a wild twitch. He came to the hospital to be helped, to be saved, not to be laughed at and treated like a loon.

Guy paid for his treatment, so he better get a good show out of it.

"But if you did happen to pick anything up from it, then I can safely say that your natural immune system will have got rid of it by now. You have to give it some credit, after all - it's really rather brilliant. Sometimes you can fight off bacteria better than we can."

Guy stared at the doctor. "No. That isn't good enough." Guy snapped. "I ate food contaminated with God knows what and you're saying to just go with it?" Guy's voice rose in volume steadily. "I could be dying right now and you aren't going to do anything about it?! What kind of doctor are you?"

Guy hopped off the table, pacing anxiously. His fingers smacked his hip, 1,2,3 and his eyes were trained stubbornly on the ground.