"The name on the contract as written," Rose said, inclining her head slightly. "I see. Then Dr. Vasiliyeva will suffice, thank you." There was the faintest edge to her voice; it wasn't enough to even come close to aggression or insubordination - more an echo, a glimpse of the iron will contained within the willowy frame. And the name had been on her contract.
She spread her hands, palm up. "I had rather assumed that medicine would be my primary function here. My talents are not particularly suited to a performance-based role." She could change her shape, sure, but she had no superhuman strength, no great speed or psychic ability. What she had was steady hands and over a hundred years of various forms of medical knowledge. The mention of another healer intrigued her, but she didn't ask. Those who shared the craft found each other eventually, and there'd be time to find her counterpart.
"If you do not already have a clinic space set up, then I would like one dedicated to that purpose, yes," she said, her stance becoming more assured, more businesslike as she got down to the fine details of what she expected. "I don't expect a sterile operating theater, of course--" Anyone requiring emergency surgery would be better served by her gift. More painful for her than surgery, but no one would die on her watch. "But somewhere that affords at least a little privacy for patients and that has a stock of common medical supplies. I can provide a list, if necessary. I assume that I'll be looking after any customers who require first aid in addition to the Cirque employees, correct, mister...?" She'd known to expect the Ringmaster. She didn't know his name.