The Vagrants - Doc and Mr. C Snapshots

Milo's Strange Encounter

The night of their first meeting, it had been pouring rain, torrential in its downpour, with wind that paid no mind to where it blew. Milo, a fresh-faced young doctor at the time, was only just starting out at the run-down clinic that had been in sore need of new physicians. He puttered around the office, chatting amicably to his last patient of the evening. She was an elderly woman, barely spoke any english, and lacked insurance. When she pulled out a battered chequebook, he waved her off, and simply told her to hurry on home.

He watched from the glass doors, making sure she reached her bus stop safely. Afterwards he headed toward the bathroom and splashed his face. His greys eyes were blanketed by deep shadows beneath, framed by his black curly hair as he gazed at himself in the mirror. As the water trickled down his face, the droplets glistened under the artificial light that flickered above him.

Milo sighed before he grabbed for the paper towel to dry his face and hands. He trudged slowly into his small office, grabbing his suitcase that had surely seen better days before he headed back towards the glass doors. As he stepped outside, the rain drowned out all surrounding noise, and he had not heard the figure advancing upon him. "Don't lock-up," a gruff voice called out to him, a hulking figure suddenly in his space, startling the young doctor.

"A-ah." Milo dropped his keys, his eyes wide and he held up his suitcase in front of him. The dim light of the clinic's sign did not help to warm the person who stood before him. "What was that you said," he nearly whispered, debating on if he should just run.

"I said don't lock up." It was a man's voice, gravelly and stern. He appeared to be in rather terrible shape and was clutching at his side.

"Well, the hospital..." Milo tried.

"No," the other man said, "just open back up. You're here now aren't you?"

Milo worried at his bottom lip before he sighed, his altruism getting the better of him. "I... okay," he said and bent down to pick up his fallen keys. "Step back please."

Once the door was open, he led the man back into his office and flicked on the light. "Well, please take a seat," he said, gesturing with his hands, his long fingers spreading out as though he was offering the other man the whole world instead of a tattered polyester chair.

The man grunted and took the offered seat rather gingerly. "Just need to get some proper bandages really, so if you could do that, that would be great."

"Er, right, well have you got a name?" Milo asked, and turned in his seat, about to turn on his ancient computer.

"Doesn't everyone?" The man asked. "Don't bother turning that on, you won't find me in any system."

Milo frowned, but turned back around. "I see." Unsure of what to say, he chose instead to grab the bandages and alcohol the man required. When he sat back down, it was on a stool this time. He positioned himself directly in front of his surly patient.

Up close and under better lighting, Milo was confronted with startling baby blue eyes that were hazy and half open. His pale skin a stark contrast to Milo's own. The man was a mess, from what he could tell. His body seemed to be littered with bruises, scars new and fresh. "Well, this will sting," Milo said, and poured some alcohol onto the gauze. He reached out to wipe along a large jagged cut along the man's right cheek. The man hissed, but otherwise remained still and stoic.

He applied the bandage and continued on with his task. The man's face and arms now adorned with bright white patches, tinged with red. Milo's eyes settled over the other's shoulder, where the fabric appeared to be soaked from more than just water, but it had been hard to tell since the man wore all black. "Anywhere else, sir?"

"Don't call me that," the man grumbled. "I'm probably the same age as you," he groused but sat up and winced.

Once all the blood and grime had been wiped from his face, his patient did appear to be similar in age to Milo. His five o'clock shadow and bushy eyebrows notwithstanding; he had both ears pierced with a simple black stud in each, thin chapped lips, a long pointed nose that had been broken at least one before, and a strong masculine jaw line that all pointed to a rugged handsomeness, somewhat hampered by all of the bandages Milo had just applied. The man's tatty brown hair was a mess, resembling a rat's nest, and rested limply at his shoulders.

"Well, I don't know what else to call you, since you haven't given me a name," Milo replied easily. "Now, are you going to lift your shirt or not?"

Here, the man choked back in shock. "W-what?" He asked, his eyes wide and alarmed.

"You've got a cut on your shoulder, haven't you," Milo pressed. "That's the real reason for you coming here, is it not?" He tilted his head, expression impassive as he waited for his patient to comply.

"Tch..." What could be seen of the man's cheeks had tinted pink, but he lifted off his shirt with a fair amount of difficulty. "Just call me Al," he mumbled, slightly petulant.

"Very well." Milo smiled warmly, and leaned in close to inspect the wound upon Al's shoulder. He heard a hitch of a breath, but did not comment on it. "Ah, this will need stitches," he said, pulling back, looking for Al to refute him, however was given a nod to do what was needed.

Once Milo had finished, and Al had pulled his shirt back on, the two men exited the office, heading toward the glass doors once more. "Oh, uh yeah," Al said, and reached into his pocket, "I've got money here."

"No, don't worry about it. After hours and all." Milo smirked.

Al shuffled awkwardly, his churlish behaviour seemingly disappearing now that he was patched up. "Er, yeah. Sorry 'bout that. I just didn't want to scare that little old lady from before."

Milo blinked, then laughed, airy and raucous all at once. "Ah, so you only look scary!"

"W-what!" Al huffed and turned his head away, his cheeks now flaming red, but had looked back towards Milo when a warm hand settled over his arm. "Um..."

"If you ever need medical attention again, and something tells me that you will," Milo smiled knowingly, "Come back here, and I'll take care of you, alright?"

"Really?" Al asked, licking his dry lips.

"Mmhm." Milo nodded, gestured for Al to step back outside. "Well, come back in a week so I can take those stitches out, y'hear?"

With a jerky nod, Al agreed and then turned, heading in the opposite direction. "Yeah, thanks Doc," he called out with one last wave.

Milo chuckled to himself as he made his way to his own stop. He was certainly going to meet some interesting characters while working for this clinic, of that he was sure.