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Coffee and Coincidence (IC)


Northstar

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Greg rolled over to a table, making sure his coffee did not go overboard. The last thing he needed was getting back in line with these kids. The Starbase Coffee was filling up with the usual batch of trendy college kids, who filled the place with they're incredibly dull chat. If this place wasn't so close to the hospital he'd never go there. But with mobility issues, you take what you can get.

Once he had situated himself at a table, he took a sip, and set down his cup. Just about perfect. He pulled the notebook from his side compartment onto the table and started reviewing his notes. He didn't really think much progress would be made, but it would get his brain working. Besides, there were a lot of interesting way an anesthetic could come in handy. All he needed to do was find a way to aerosol it without losing potency.

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Errm... Brain fuzzy. Need coffee. Rachel thought. She had been at the north end of the city making use of some of the labs at FCU. She'd lost track of time and had been up most of the night. Fortunately, she'd eventually utterly passed out due to exhaustion. Unfortunately, she was still exhausted. It didn't look like she'd be able to make it home without getting some caffeine.

Conveniently enough, there was a nearby coffee shop. Rachel now stood in front of it staring a the doors, and the people inside. Oh no. There's people. Lots of them. Oh my god. I can't believe I'm doing this. Omigodomigodomigodomigod....


A few paralyzing minutes later, Rachel had her coffee and was looking for a seat. She found a small empty table. One of the ones you can barely fit two people at. She hoped up on the stool, and placed her coffee on the table. The following process was astounding. Rachel seemed to shrink within the large hoodie she was wearing. She tucked her feet up underneath the stool as tightly as possible, allowing the low heels of her leather boots to hook around one of the rungs. She pulled her arms into her sleeves, and slouched quite far forward in her seat.

For a moment she rested her forehead on the top of her cup. Note to self. Invent something that will get the caffee straight into my brain. This whole drinking thing? Not a fan. Reluctantly, she raised her head, and wrapped two hand-sleeves around the cup. Lifting it to her mouth, she slurped up some of the hot liquid.

Looking over the rim of the cup, she saw a man in a lab coat, and a wheel chair. God that design is terrible. I could name about five different ways to make it thirty percent more efficient just off the top of my head. I mean... Wait a second. He's wearing a lab coat. That means he's smart. Why has he not invented some sort of exoskeleton armor plated steel frame walking aid with gas powered hydraulic systems, an internal combustion engine and laser rifles? Rachel was staring. I know I would. Slurp.

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Greg flipped to the next page in his notebook, and took another sip of his coffee, emptying it. The gas bomb idea was interesting but would require too much tinkering to be effective any time soon. He was sure there were compounds that dealt with the problems, but he didn't have access to any of them. Such a hassle. Well, perhaps I'll be able to come up with a new one. Or at least a bastardization. That would be good enough in the short term. Now, I think another coffee is in order.

As he turned around to pitch the empty cup, he found that he was being stared at. He didn't get that too often. Most of these kids payed him attention only when he was about to run a foot over, or already had. The line was already gigantic, so he wouldn't be getting that coffee any time soon. More time than I know what to do with, and I'm not getting my coffee any time soon. Won't get much done with that distraction, so I may as well find a new way to amuse myself. If nothing else, he'd at least get rid of the distraction.

He pitched the empty cup, and turned himself around. He rolled his way over to her and asked in a quiet, condescending voice, "Is there something I can do for you? You seem quite curious about something, perhaps I'll be able to enlighten you." Pinned on his coat pocket sat his hospital staff nametag which read Doctor Gregory Brunce, MD. Underneath it was a seperate tag which read Why yes, that does mean you are inferior to me.

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When the man started to make his way toward her, Rachel let out a soft "Eep." and pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up so it covered her face. "He's talking to me. Why are you talking to me? Oh my god. I was staring. Sorry. I'm sorry. It's not because of... Well it's just that..."

"Is there something I can do for you? You seem quite curious about something, perhaps I'll be able to enlighten you."

"Enlighten me?" Rachel pushed the hood back, and took a deep sip of hot coffee, then a deep breath. "No. Sorry. Doubt it. I mean, I guess you could enlighten me if you wanted to explain why you were wheeling around in that heap of junk. I mean not because you're crippled. That much is obvious. Can't walk. Need wheels. Got that part. But it's so inefficient. Look at the placement of those screws. They're creating all the wrong kinds of friction. The brakes are in the wrong place. The design on the spokes if functional. I guess. If you're physics book was written by the apple and not Newton. Cut out that half there. Use a different alloy. Lighter weight. Less wind resistance. God, Rachel, shut up!" She pouted, "Sorry. I'm always going on like that. Can't switch off the brain. You know. Oh. Right. Your tag." She pointed.

Why yes, that does mean you are inferior to me.

"It's wrong. Well, not wrong. Not usually I'm sure. But in this case it is. Anyway. It's trying to make a point right? It doesn't even do that right. Technically the grammar is correct, but you'd more effectively convey your point confidence and condescension if you simply wrote, 'I'm better than you.' As is it's too conversational. Too welcoming. That sentence is supposed to drive people awa.... oh." She frowned.

"Can I start again?" She extended her hand. "Hi, my name is Rachel!"

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Greg blinked a couple of times, trying to get his bearings. The torrent of words that came out of this...Rachel was beyond anything he had anticipated. He did a quick mental once over, and amazingly did not find whiplash. "Well, You're certainly not what I expected you to be, Rachel. And don't bother with the starting again. I don't have whiplash yet, but the way you speak I might get it before we're through. Besides I caught...most of that anyway." Now he marshaled his mental forces, and prepared his counterattack.

"First off, the chair is for simplicity. Whenever I drive myself anywhere, I need to stow my wheels, and the simpler the chair, the easier storage gets. Besides which, function before form. It works, and until I have nothing better to do, that's good enough." He wished he hadn't spent his coffee, as this was likely to be a very wordy dialog.

"Second, my badge isn't about driving people away, or drawing them in. It's about the bar, and where I set it. Society sets the bar to the common man, because there are more of them. There are..." He took a second to recall the latest census for Freedom City "about 3.8 million people in the metro area. Of course they set the bar at them. I, however, have set my bar differently. With the exception of somewhere between a couple dozen to a couple hundred, I know that none of those 3.8 million people are as smart as I. I set the bar at me, because measuring up from all 3.8 million of these dull, dim, and boring people takes too long." He gave a small smile before going to point number three.

"Third, I have the feeling you were partially right when you said that it was wrong. I have the feeling you aren't at their level either. You didn't walk away, or ignore me, you made your points based on your observations. Now you're not at the bar," He gestured to himself, "just yet, but I do wonder how close you are." Usually when he confronted someone, they ended the conversation and walked away. This one didn't bother, and that was interesting.

"You may call me Gregory."

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"First off,"

He's gonna make up some excuse and leave.

""Second,"

Here it comes, excuse time.

""Third,"

Any second now...

""You may call me Gregory.""

He's still here. Rachel blinked. "You're still here?" Rachel sipped her coffee. "Huh, neat."

"So, Gregory. Not Dr. Brunce? Not even Dr. Gregory?" She smiled at him. "Kinda feels like I won a prize." Abruptly, she pointed to his notebook, "Can I see that?" Then seized it. "Thanks." She flipped to the back, not pausing on any of the pages to even look and found a blank one. Seemingly out of nowhere, she produced a mechanical pencil and began drawing. In seconds, an entire mechanical schematic began to form. It gained wheels, and a seat, there were notes about storage, and friction equations. Integrals, and derivative formulae were scattered everywhere.

All the while she was drawing, she was talking. It was difficult to tell which to pay attention to. Thankfully, Rachel made that easy. Whenever she said anything overly important, she paused long enough to enunciate it with finger quotes. "Yea. No 'bar' for me. Don't really talk to 'normal' people too much. Not good at it. Makes talking to you easier. Know you're not one of them. You're still here for one. And you talk like you weren't taught grammar by television. Anyway. 'Common men' are boring. I like guys with brains better." Here her drawing actually halted, and so did her speech. She looked up at Gregory, and blushed. "Oh my god. I didn't mean... I mean I don't think I meant to say that I... I mean that you... But..." She stopped talking, looking like she had to willfully shut her mouth. She looked back down at the paper and scribbled furiously for a few more seconds in silence. "Anyway, here." She turned the drawing for him to see. "It'll fold up to 22.56% of it's original size. Better than my estimation of the 25% that thing has. It's lighter weight, and it moves 30% faster than that hunk of junk you're riding." She smiled at him. This time, it was not an embarrassed smile, but one filled with a deep pride.

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He took a second to catch up on the conversation. This girl was a tornado, impressive to see but difficult to follow. There was also that slight awkwardness that it took a slight effort to ignore. he looked over the design. It was quite impressive. "Either you memorized that design in case you came across a wheelchair that wasn't up to standard, or you have engineering software built into your brain. That's impressive." He gave her a small round of applause.

"Now we have engineering, and an overclocked head. What else do you have in there?" This was certainly more entertaining that berating some college student. though the more he thought about it, the more this seemed like a diagnostic rather than a conversation. Hmm. Need to change the catting protocols around. He took another look at the design. Damn impressive. And off the top of her head too.

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"Either you memorized that design in case you came across a wheelchair that wasn't up to standard, or you have engineering software built into your brain. That's impressive."

"Nope." She beamed, obviously proud of her work. "I'm all natural." It was clear she meant it in the literal sense, in all probability, her own innuendo went straight over her head.

"Now we have engineering, and an overclocked head. What else do you have in there?"

She sipped at her coffee. "Just some caffeine, and little to no sleep." Rachel smiled again. She was enjoying this. Maybe a little too much. The conversation was almost enough to get her over her fear of public places. Almost. Damnit she glanced around nervously and took another sip. Returning to face Gregory, she looked like she was about to say something, Don't screw this up. He's actually talking to you. They never do that. Say something. Do something. Say or do something! Anything!

"So what else do you have in here?" She seized the notebook again. "Usually Doctors don't carry notebooks around. They usually have Blackberries. Unless your not that type of doctor. But that's the obvious assumption. None of the other doctor types ever wear lab coats in public." Rachel had flipped through most of the book by this time. Only slightly more slowly than before. She had always been able to read much, much faster than she could flip the pages. She stopped when she came to a schematic that was not of her own design. "Ooh, pretty!"

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it was always impressive to see someone proud of their work. At least when the work was worth a damn. And while he would have treasured a line like hers any other time, it would most likely lead to an end of their chat, and it would be a damned shame to have this go south now. It's been a while since anyone capable of intelligent conversation was found, outside of the hospital. And the people there seemed resistant to him, of late. There was likely a reason, but he couldn't think of why.

"So what else do you have in here?"

When she started flipping through his notebook, he almost panicked. Those were his side notes. All of his fun little side project he'd come up with since the Titan started working. Most of that was militant in nature, things like the anesthetic bomb he was working on, or the special drugs he derived from the success of the Titan. If she was able to design a wheelchair in the small amount of time she'd had, what would happen if she deciphered those designs?

Just before he reached out and snatched the book away from her, a part of him started to speak up.Woah, woah, woah. Hold on. You're jumping the gun on this, pal. First, nothing in there is out of the design phase. Regardless of what she deduces, there's no danger. Two, No one is going to believe that you tiny little Doc Bruce is able to take a pill and more than double his size. Three, this is the rare opportunity to show off your ideas to someone that might gain an understanding of them. Relax, Greg. Don't worry so much.

He took a deep breath, than took a look at the page she was on. "That's a design for an anesthetic delivery system. Deploys it's payload anywhere in a 20 foot radius in about...three seconds if my math is right."

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"I see..." Rachel nodded, placing the end of her pencil in her mouth, she bit down on the metal bit. "It looks clunky. It seems you're sacrificing the mobility of the unit for more power in the mechanism that jettisons the gas. Have you considered using finer nozzles?" Rachel removed the pencil from her mouth and scribbled a few notes.

She mumbled almost inaudibly as she drew, "Increased pressure... Recalibration of circuitry... Fuel cells directly above power grid... Viola!" She finally exclaimed, slapping her pencil down. The original design was still there, but it now sported heavy modifications. "I figure, chances are, the application of this would be military." She shrugged to show her indifference of the usage, "That said, it's not likely that the user will need a 360 degree deployment zone. More likely, if deployed within a squad, a coned deployment method would be most effective." Rachel pointed to one part of the drawing where the nozzles had all been moved to one side of the device. "However, should the user need to deploy the gas all around them,..." She pointed again, to a series of rollers along the outside of the device which would allow the nozzles to be stretched out to surround the main chassis of the device. "Such an option still remains. By decreasing the size of the nozzle, one can increase the pressure, and propulsion gained from the same amount of force. This would increase the effective range of the device from 20 feet to 30 feet, and if wind conditions were favorable, maybe even 40 feet." Rachel beamed. She was once again, proud of her work.

"Well, what do you think, Gregory?"

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Greg looked over the 'improved model'. What she said made sense. It had a lot more flexibility now. And he hadn't even thought of a coned deployment. This was seriously impressive. Very little study time, and a lot of improvement to the model. This was a bizarrely intelligent person. He gave another round of applause.

"Original assessment was slightly incorrect, it seems. You are not overclocked. You have two processors. Some seriously impressive hardware. And while it would be amusing to see just how much you could do, I can hazard a guess that you'll likely be able to design just about anything asked of you, given enough time. Which is very impressive." He took another look down at the gas deployer. There was still the issue of what to deploy, but as is the mechanism was top notch. Seriously impressive.

"So, did some corporate firm snag you, or is it research and development somewhere? I can only imagine the attention you drew." It had been obvious where he was going, when he got out of school. This one's choices were quite open.

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"Please," She waved her hand at him. It was almost a normal gesture, but she proved to awkward to make the motion properly. "Went quad-core in kindergarten."

"...I can hazard a guess that you'll likely be able to design just about anything asked of you, given enough time. Which is very impressive."

"You don't get it." She was back to her, 'explaining things to children,' mode. "Time..." She paused for both effect and finger quotes, "Is no concern. Any design. Any complexity. Seconds. Done." She snapped her fingers. You're talking to a boy! A smart one! You're actually doing it! Rephrasal: He's talking to you! He's still talking to you! Manners, damnit! her thoughts rang out over the cacophony of ideas in her head, then she said, "But thank you." and smiled.

"So, did some corporate firm snag you, or is it research and development somewhere? I can only imagine the attention you drew."

"Noooo. I work part time a Best Buy. You know. Keeps me busy." She hesitated, This is where you include something about yourself. It's called making conversation. That's what the books said, remember?! Soldering on she added, "Oh. But my real passion is inventing. You know. Small things. Things that make people's lives better! I even made a better mouse trap once!" She was beaming, and losing track of how much she was talking again. "I don't charge for them. Well, I do. But only enough so that it covers the cost of making things. Once in a while, big companies buy the rights to make them and start production. But I always make them sign an agreement that says that they are not allowed to charge more than a 2.5% overhead on production and startup. I realize that they have to make money. It's business. But that's not what it should be about. I want to make sure that they pay the bills, make a dollar or two, and that's it. I don't do it for me. I do it for other people. I like helping people. I do! I'm... I'm talking too much again, aren't I?" She winced, and shoved her coffee cup back in her face.

Please don't run away!

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Gred was shocked by the part time job revelation. Someone this intelligent working there was like a rabid dog protecting people from tiny kittens, it made no sense. Still, at least it wasn't a total waste. Hey, idiot, you're still doing diagnostics. Stop analyzing and start conversing. He cleared his throat, and smiled. "Don't worry. You're not talking too much."

"You can design anything in seconds, and you're doing it at cost. It thought I'd seen everything." He laughed a couple times. "Well, this wouldn't be much of a conversation if I didn't say things too. So let's see..." He took a moment to figure where to start. "Much like yourself, I'm an inventor, but I'm mostly limited to medical advances. New bone saws, scalpels that'll penetrate superhuman flesh, that sort of thing. Also have a number of drugs in clinical trials, but things are looking promising in most of them. Other than that, it's preforming surgeries. Usually uneventful, sometimes heartbreaking. What a business." He didn't put too much emphasis on that last bit, but it hurt sometimes. It was never a good day when someone when out the back door.

"There is the 'saving lives' part too, which is always good. Getting to help save a life, and do something challenging at the same time is a lot of fun. The superhuman patients more so than others. Figuring out how their put together can be just as difficult as treating whole other patients." He stopped. He was going on a little too much. He changed gears. "So, what else do you get into?"

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"There is the 'saving lives' part too, which is always good. Getting to help save a life, and do something challenging at the same time is a lot of fun..."

Oh, if you only knew about my side job... Rachel thought as she drained the last of her coffee...

"So, what else do you get into?"

and barely stopped herself from doing a spit take. "Mmm!" She managed to swallow, "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

Taking a deep breath, she seemed to calm down a little bit. "I just...It's only that...You see..." Her expression showed how uncomfortable she was. It was obvious she was debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. "There...There isn't anything else. I don't get out much." She looked ashamed. Acting the part, she glanced down and away from the table. "I watch TV." She looked back up, "I use the internet!" she was trying to sound excited, "But I don't really do anything." and failed at it.

"I mean I know how some smart people think it's a waste of time to watch TV or whatever, but I don't agree with that. I like TV and I think it's great to just be able to relax and watch it sometimes. Dad says I'm wasting my potential, but sometimes I just need to block everything out and veg out. I mean there's a lot going on up here," She pointed to her head, "Sometimes it's just too much. Sometimes I just need to sit and watch a movie and slow everything down. Move at normal person speed. Movies!" Now she was excited, "That's it! I watch movies. I watch a looooooooot of movies! And there I go. With the talking." Another ashamed face, with a sideways glance back at Greg, "Dad says I do that too much too."

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Greg nodded a few times. "I can understand that. Having your brain in overdrive all the time would be horrible. I try to get side projects. Like the gas thing. Keeps me occupied. Finding ways to improve this or that, or create a way to do something new. Keeps me from getting restless."

He took a moment before speaking again. "Don't worry about your verbal velocity. You at least have something to say, beyond normal social idiocy. And as long as your doing something with your gift, don't worry about not wanting to do it all the time. My guess is your father is jealous." He looked over at the coffee line. Still a gigantic mess. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to Rachel.

"What sort of movies do you normally go to see?"

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Rachel did a lot of smiling. She agreed with much of what Greg was saying. The fact that her father was jealous was a likely conclusion. One that stemmed from many basic psychological concepts. Just because he's jealous doesn't mean he's incorrect. But it does mean that I shouldn't really worry.

"What sort of movies do you normally go to see?"

"Kung Fu!" She said excitedly. "Love Kunk Fu. Been a gymnast slash acrobat since three. Martial arts. Fascinating twist. Those moves. Fluid. Graceful. Effective. Wow." She flashed Greg a guilty smile, "Chick flicks. Of course. Quote Aesop: 'Try as one may, it is impossible to deny one's nature'. He's right. I think."

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Putting on a half smile, he said "Didn't expect the background, but kung fu makes sense. The 'Chick Flick' genre is one I can't support, but that may have a biological reason, so I try not to say anything about it. I prefer comedy myself. Watching people be absolutely idiotic helps me affirm my beliefs."

"Aesop, in this instance at least, is very much mistaken. 'The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it' as the Emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote. Nature can set us on a path, but walking a different path is as easy is putting your feet there once you find it."

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"I like comedy. Good for much needed escapism. Sometimes, at least. Too much is bad. Besides. My sides hurt after too much Will Farrel. 'I'll take 'Anal Bum Cover' for 200, Alex'!" She giggled at her own reference to the famous Saturday Night Live sketch 'Celebrity Jeopardy'.

"I agree. To an extent. 'There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.' Morpheus. Matrix." Rachel continued the quotation war, "Kung Fu." she shrugged. "'Much to learn you still have.' Yoda." She wagged a finger at him. "I agree because you're right. Willpower is powerful. Not available. So few have it. People may want things. Time to time. True desire is rare. That's what's needed. Anything less? Not effective. Not really."

Rachel looked toward the counter, where there was still a line for coffee. Though, it was shorter now. Manageable, maybe. She seemed to blanch, then looked around the room once or twice. Finally, she stood up. Then knocked twice on the table where they were sitting. "More coffee?" She glanced down at Greg, "My treat?" she smiled at him, Please don't leave while I'm buying it...

"You stay here. I'll get it." She considered the wheelchair. "Won't get far anyway. Not with that scrap." She seemed like she was hiding an emotion. She didn't want to express her disapproval of Greg's chosen mode of transportation. But her face betrayed her. It was simply too inefficient. She turned back to the line at the counter, and truly turned pale. Her eyes widened, really exaggerating the bags underneath them. She seemed to shrink slightly. "Oooookay. Thiiiiis was hard enough the first time." She looked back toward Greg. "Second thought. Come with me. You have to!" She was uncomfortable even asking.

Come on! You can do this. The doctor said so!

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"If you insist, how can I refuse?" He rolled himself along, joining the coffee line. Greg found himself smiling a little more. He'd never been ordered to take someone's charity before. the whole situation was rather amusing.

"A rare thing, the will to change. But the people that do usually do impressive thing." Taking a moment, this seemed just about the last conversation he expected to have when he woke up. Speaking about movies, gadgets, and philosophy with a rival brain. What a world. It brought another smile to his face.

When he saw how pale the girl had gotten, he asked a simple question."Are you feeling alright?"

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"If you insist, how can I refuse?"

"Thanks!" She looked reassured, but was still obviously nervous about something.

"A rare thing, the will to change. But the people that do usually do impressive thing." Taking a moment, this seemed just about the last conversation he expected to have when he woke up. Speaking about movies, gadgets, and philosophy with a rival brain. What a world. It brought another smile to his face.

"True. Some find that level of determination difficult."

Like me.

"Some find people's demands overwhelming."

Like me.

"Truth is. They mean well. Can't always do well. Can't always please people."

Ugghhhhh! That's me too!

"Point is. They try. Right? All that matters. Heart in the right place. Et cetera?"

When he saw how pale the girl had gotten, he asked a simple question."Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes." She hesitated, "Well, no. But yes." She pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her hoodie as she stood in line. She tucked her hands under her arms. "I've got..." She looked behind them, "A lot of..." to the left, "Things..." Right. "It's just...That..." She looked down at him.

He's smart. He'll understand... I hope.

"Look. You're a doctror, right?" She blurted out, "Agoraphobia, okay? Heard of it, yes?" She looked toward the front of the line, silently hoping that everyone in front of them would suddenly not want coffee. "I'm terrified right now, okay?" She looked down at him, "People," to the left, "Places," the windows, "Outside, the Mall, the..." the ceiling. "Look, I didn't even want to come in here." She fixed her eyes on him again. "But I was tired. Needed coffee. Bad. Saw you. Got distracted by drawings. I was okay. But this line is... Not... Fun..." The last sentence petered off. She swallowed. "I'm trying. But. It's hard. Hard to... Look, point is, I'm trying to make myself manageable around people. Not more manageable. Just manageable. Period. Wanted to leave. Didn't want to stop. Talking to.." He head swiveled toward the doors.

Run. Run. Run. Run. Run.

"Look, plan B. Can we..." More hesitation, "Can we go?" She jerked a thumb toward the doors. Her eyes pleading with him.

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"Yes, we should go. Coffee here isn't even that good anyway." Greg turned his chair toward the door, and rolled himself toward it, not really caring if anyone got in his way. A small parade of 'excuse mes', 'pardon mes', and a few 'cripple coming throughs' helped to get people out of the way. He opened the door with his foot, and let the girl leave before he did. Rolling down the sidewalk, he hoped she was able to calm down. A full panic attack would be very very difficult, at this point.

"Didn't realize that you were... afflicted in such a way. Can be very tough for people to do what you did. Feeling a little better?" He hadn't studied psychology too much, but tried to dreg up what he knew about the condition, how it was treated.

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Rachel was hot on his heels. Well, wheels, really. She muttered with every nervous footfall. "One, two, four, eight. One, two, four eight." She quickly squeezed out the door past Greg's wheelchair and jogged a few feet off to the side of the coffee shop. Finding a nearby alley, she turned and walked a few steps down it.

Putting her back up against the wall, she drew a small prescription bottle from her pocket, withdrew one of the capsules and dry swallowed it. She panted a few times, taking deep breaths and trying to settle herself. Then she sank into a crouched position. With her back against the wall, she wrapped her sleeved hands around her head.

That's how Greg found her when he finally wheeled himself around the corner and spotted her in the alley.

"Didn't realize that you were... afflicted in such a way. Can be very tough for people to do what you did. Feeling a little better?" He hadn't studied psychology too much, but tried to dreg up what he knew about the condition, how it was treated.

"Hooooo." She exhaled sharply, trying to calm herself, "Yea. Not afraid. Not anymore. Head hurts, though. Migraines. Nasty splitting pain. It'll pass. I can deal with it." She removed her head from her hands and looked up at him, "I am so sorry. Here we are. Just met. Already ruined things. You're thinking I'm a nut job. Which I am." She winced and found her feet enough to stand. Steadying herself against the wall she said, "It's passing. Never last long. Hurts though. Like hell."

"I'm not crazy. Not really. Meant what I said. I really try. Don't think your wrong. Walking's easy. Feet on the path. I'm just too afraid to move sometimes." She looked a lot better. Happier and more relaxed, but drained. She'd won the battle, but it had certainly been hard fought. She gave Greg, a wan smile. "So? Not too broken for you. Am I?"

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There was a price for everything, so it seemed. "Too broken? Are you kidding? I'm a doctor. Broken is part of the job description. If I didn't want to be around broken people, I'd be teaching." he put a smile on, and spoke softly. The last thing he wanted to do was aggravate the problem. He wished he had his bag of tricks with him, he always put an few aspirins in there. "If you want to, we can go back to my office, get you some aspirins. should help the pain. Heck, it even helps that you had the coffee."

It took a moment to back his chair near her. pulling a little forward, turning so the back was facing the wall, then carefully backing up. He should get one of those powered chairs. Would hurt his exercise, but he wouldn't be as tired. "And ruined? Not sure where you get that. So I know a little more than I expect you wanted me to. And that kinda sucks. How about I even things out, tell you something about me. You ask me any one thing, and I'll answer you. Sound good?"

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There was a price for everything, so it seemed. "Too broken? Are you kidding? I'm a doctor. Broken is part of the job description. If I didn't want to be around broken people, I'd be teaching." he put a smile on, and spoke softly. The last thing he wanted to do was aggravate the problem. He wished he had his bag of tricks with him, he always put an few aspirins in there. "If you want to, we can go back to my office, get you some aspirins. should help the pain. Heck, it even helps that you had the coffee."

Rachel nodded in agreement, "Mmm hmm." He was persistent. That was a good thing. He likes to help people. Like I do.

"And ruined? Not sure where you get that. So I know a little more than I expect you wanted me to. And that kinda sucks. How about I even things out, tell you something about me. You ask me any one thing, and I'll answer you. Sound good?"

"No!" She blurted, "Can't do that. Can't ask that. Think about it. With my head? I like solving riddles and puzzles. Giving away the answer? That's no fun." Her face brightened suddenly, "Better idea. Leave me hints. I'll figure you out. Course. That means spending more time around me. That possible? Start with your office?" She smiled along with her counter argument.

"Most people. Hard to handle. You're different. You I like."

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She made some sense. It was nice having someone on his level, someone he didn't need to talk down to. Repeat contact was more likely a bonus than anything else. "We have a plan then. Come on." He wheeled his way out of the alley, and toward the hospital. It was only a few blocks away, so it wouldn't take too long to get there.

"Most people. Hard to handle. You're different. You I like."

"I'm flattered. Been a while since anyone I could speak to was at my level, able to understand thing in a similar way. Glad I got coffee today." He rolled onward, zig zagging every now and then to avoid running people over.

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