Still, Rasmus got the point she was trying to make. Even if it was unfairly met from his point of view. Carol had never been nice to him. Especially when he had his insurance changed. She could get really snippy on the phone about insurance companies. So Rasmus forgot to mention it at his appointment that day. Big deal. He had over seven centuries of knowledge he had to keep track of in his little human brain. He couldn't be expected to remember the little things all of the time. Like keeping his new insurance card on him when he went to his appointments.
He winced when she pressed into his stomach.
"See! I'm dying. I knew it. Guh, and still so much to do."
Parsley didn't seem all that concerned, however, and Rasmus furrowed his brows at her. All of these so-called health professionals really needed to renew their bedside manner certification.
And then she began to ramble. Ramble about— well, science had never really been his thing. He tried his hand at it once or twice in the 17th and 18th centuries, but he was much more of a literary mind than a scientific one. So the concept of genetic manipulation (albeit familiar from some science fiction novels he'd read) went right over his head. And surely right over the head of merely a nurse.
"Sounds like that's above your pay grade. You should seek better employment."
When she was done examining him, Rasmus sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the table. He took a deep breath and exhaled. More a sigh of boredom or disappointment than one of relief. Not dying after all. And a prescription for tea and vegetables. Well, didn't that just make his day?
Oh, and a recommendation to keep to his normal diet. Unfortunately they just didn't make 13th century serfs like they used to.