Mr. Rune, again. When she turned her back to him to continue down the hall he rolled his eyes. Rasmus didn't understand the concept of formality in the modern world. It seemed to completely disregard politeness and go straight for a separation of classes. Sometimes Rasmus forgot that he wasn't still in the Middle Ages what with all of these unspoken hierarchies and the disintegration of the middle class.
"Parsley van der Zee?"
Goodness these health professionals had such peculiar names.
"Sounds like the name of a VOC ship that sunk in the Dutch East Indies."
Rasmus followed her, only halfheartedly dying at this point, into the examination room. Sullen and sterile. Exactly how he liked his clinic examination rooms to be. And no sign of that dread Dr. O'Neill in sight. Thank the gods of old. He really couldn't stand that man or his bristly mustache. It was like someone had glued a squirrel tail to his upper lip. Crookedly.
"Oh, don't put yourself down. You're not that pretty. So I'm certain you serve a far greater purpose than just sitting around being eye candy."
That was meant to be a compliment, but— yeah.
He climbed up onto the examination table and watched as she prepared the blood pressure cuff. Her comment earned her a quirked brow. Because Rasmus, albeit wholly capable of spewing his own special brand of acidic wit when he wanted to, was very often confused by the sarcasm of others.
"I never considered the possibility that I was already dead. That might explain a few things. Like the unexplainable feeling of weightlessness I sometimes have after eating Chinese food."
Rasmus furrowed his brows and thought about this, but he was distracted by the sound of Carol's voice in the hall. Damn. If he knew she was working that morning maybe he would have waited until the afternoon shift to die.