Amelia Pond (whosscared) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-05-03 21:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
Who: Amy Pond and John Watson
When: Recently
Where: Hospital
What: Surprise visit to work/Hanging out
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete
Amy decided it was time to pay her good friend Doctor Watson a visit at Irvine General where he was... doctoring about. Whatever Doctors did. She knew what nurses did, as she’d been to pester Rory so much at his hospital that they’d nearly kicked her out a couple of times. But Doctors were a little different, weren’t they?
Anyway, she went to the desk at the front, near the gift shop, and waited for the lovely woman in scrubs to turn around and face her so she could ask. Though, the woman’s loveliness was fading quickly with each passing moment she was forced to wait. By the time the woman finally turned around, Amy thought she was quite plump and awfully plain.
“Doctor John Watson, please?”
The woman in question had been answering phone calls and annoying questions all day, and so didn’t really seem to care much if she was thought of as attractive or not. She knew a social call when she saw one, and so raised her eyebrow and then pointed in the direction of the clinic. Really, it was just down the hall.
The clinic was where Watson could usually be found. Sure, he did other things too -- he was a decent surgeon, and he could help out with this or that -- but mostly, he was here. It was mostly pleasant work, dealing mostly with common illnesses and the occasional person who just really wished something was wrong with them.
Amy wandered down the hall toward the clinic area. She’d only been here during the Blue Flu stuff, so this was not entirely new... though she hadn’t spent much time down here. It was interesting how all hospitals had the same feel. She poked her head around the mini-lobby, Clinic area, looking for John.
Lo and behold, there he was: standing by the little reception area with a file in his hands and wearing the tell-tale white coat of a doctor. He glanced up from his file, spotting Amy there. Blinked. And then smiled, slightly lopsided. “Hey,” he said in greeting.
“Hi!” Amy said, giving him a bright smile as she approached. “Don’t you look all doctor-y.” She added, lifting a hand to brush his shoulder--as if there was lint on his perfectly white doctor’s jacket.
John could only gave an eyebrow raise and a half smile at that, glancing at his own shoulder. “I’d hope so. I’d be concerned if I looked like anything but.” A pause. “What’s up, Amy?”
“I thought I’d come and surprise you. Maybe take you out to lunch, if you’ve got some time, so...” She glanced around the room then back to him, wearing her classic grin. “Surprise!”
The grin suited her and John couldn’t help but return the look in kind. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and gave a shrug. “I can dip out for lunch,” he agreed -- leaning over to let the woman at reception know before turning back to Amy. “I consider myself properly surprised.”
“Good! Then I succeeded at both of my goals today. Well, will have, once we’ve gone to lunch.” Amy turned to walk with him out of the clinic area. “...is there like, a cafeteria or something where you get a discount? Because I’m not above eating cafeteria food for ten percent off.”
John couldn’t help but give her a bit of a dry look, before nodding and leading them toward the cafeteria. “Modeling just not making you enough?” He wasn’t above teasing, especially about ten percent off. Okay, it was actually fifteen. But still.
“I’m never gonna be a millionaire if I always pay full price for food,” Amy said with a grin, enjoying the teasing. She followed him through the hallways, finding that this hospital--like every other one she’d ever been to--was very maze-like. She was sure glad he knew where he was going, because after the third hallway, she was lost. “Modeling is suiting me fine, now that my contract is up and I can take other jobs.”
“Oh?” Asked Watson, glancing over at her even as he lead them into the cafeteria. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about modeling contracts or how they work.” he paused, gave a wry expression. “But I’m sure it’s fascinating.”
“It’s just contracts. Legal mumbo jumbo. While the campaign that I spearheaded for MakeMeNew was active, they didn’t want my face on anything else. Now I’ve got it written into my new and ongoing contract with them that I can do other things--just not other cosmetics. So I can do clothes, shoes, handbags, sports equipment, that sort of thing. But I can’t do lotion, make-up, sunblock, shampoo... that sort of thing.” She said, explaining gently as they reached the cafeteria and ended up in line for food.
“Sounds complicated,” Watson said, peering over the sneeze guard to see what was being offered in the way of faintly-boring but not as bad as you’d think food today. “I’m glad I went the doctor route now that I know how much I’d have had to pay attention to if I wanted to be a model.”
“Oh, yeah, I know.” Amy said, giving him a playfully serious nod. “I’m glad you went the easy route.” She turned her attention to the food. It looked kinda ... both gross and delicious at the same time, if that makes any sense. “What’s good here?”
Watson chuckled over that, and gave a nod before hmming a little over her question. “The soup and salads are always safe. The pasta is occasionally questionable. Avoid the burgers.” It was all about trial and error.
“Soup and salad it is.” Amy said with a nod. She wasn’t sure what that meant about the burgers but if his advice was to avoid them, she would take it. “Looks like they’ve got a pretty full salad bar,” she added, glancing over. “They charge by weight?” She could absolutely fill up on romaine and cucumbers. For sure. Good for the waist, anyway.
“Yup by weight. And good choice.” Watson agreed, even as he picked out a plate of the pasta that may or may not have been good. He’d get a salad too, just in case. Better safe than sorry, after all.
They made their way through the line, lunch trays in hand as they found a seat -- a little booth against the far wall.
“Cozy. It’s nice in here. Do you eat lunch in here most days?” Amy asked, settling into her seat and lifting her fork. She was excited to spear into some of the fruits and vegetables on her plate. She had to admit, it looked scrumptious.
“You’ve seen my kitchen,” Watson felt the need to point out, instead of really answering. Well, honestly that should have been answer enough. Peter and Sherlock did a lot of weird things in the kitchen, and neither of them had anything to do with cooking. Sometimes the safest option was to just find somewhere else to eat.
Amy gave a laugh. “That’s right. I’d be afraid to cook anything in there.” She added. Not that Amy did a ton of cooking, but she did enough to get by. “Speaking of, how are your roommates? Scary and Scarier?” She teased.
“Okay,” John said, with a half shrug. He honestly didn’t see a whole lot of Peter -- probably because the man had a job and a girlfriend and probably some sort of social life. Sherlock he saw intermittently -- sometimes the other man spent all his time in the apartment, and other times he was nowhere to be found. “The same as always, I guess. How’s --er. Rory?”
“Same old same old,” Amy said, giving a smile. She always had one on when she talked about Rory. “He works a lot, and I work a lot, and it’s hard. But it’s great when our schedules work together, you know?”
“Yes,” said John, but no not really he didn’t know. He wasn’t married, and had never been. He lived with two men and liked taking on extra clinic hours in the hospital. But he smiled anyway and taste-tested his pasta. “So? Have you heard the new Bowie album yet?” These. These were the important things.
“Oh yeah!” Amy’s eyes lit up at the mention of it. “It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” She asked, digging into her salad. “Fits in perfectly with the rest of his work.”
“It really does,” John was clearly pleased -- smile oddly sharp. “It’s like he never skipped a beat. Impressive since it’s been -- what? A decade since his last one? Were you even born yet?”
“I think I was in utero,” Amy said, nodding. “Listening to my walkman in Mum’s tummy, you know. Hardcore.” She added, unable to hold the grin off of her features.
“I’m a doctor. And, you know, I think I’ve seen that before,” Watson said, and that was really gross because they were eating, and I’m really sorry, Amy.
Amy laughed. She shook her head. “You have not. I’m the only one in the history of the world who listened to music in utero.”
“At least it was David Bowie. That’s nearly like being raised completely proper-like.” John not so subtly had a thing for 80s Brit pop. But that was okay, because Amy seemed to also, so it wasn’t like they weren’t on the same page. His pasta was edible today, and so he took another bite.
“God forbid I be raised as a little heathen in utero.” Amy said, giving a little smirk. Her salad was pretty good, though the dressing wasn’t nearly as fattening as good salad dressings were supposed to be. Too much water and not enough oil and vinegar. Hopefully no artificial sweeteners.
Hey, this was a hospital: the food wasn’t meant to be that amazing. “God forbid,” John could only agree, amused. “You’re what? Twenty? Someone could have slipped you some very bad 90’s pop. You’d be in love with boybands. A completely different person.”
Not necessarily amazing, and always more healthy? Probably good for Amy to eat here every once in a while. “Oh, God, say it isn’t so.” Amy stuck out her tongue as if nauseous. ...as if a nauseous cartoon character, anyway. “Ugh, boy bands. No thank you. That Justin Timberlake? Pulling women’s clothes off? Definitely not bringing sexy back.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” said Watson, and it came out so properly British, she might have a hard time arguing with it, really.
She couldn’t argue with it. The way he said it, and the look on his face, it was too much. She burst into laughter, nearly snorting some of the carrots she was chewing. Lifting a hand to cup over her mouth, she started to cough with laughter.
John’s response to her choked out laugh was only a patient, pleased sort of smile. Inhibition suited Amy Pond. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, trying to hide his own amusement. “Do you need the heimlich? I happen to know a doctor.”
Amy gave a little cough and shook her head. “Nah, no no. All the doctors in this hospital are quacks,” she said, grinning.
Watson snorted and shook his head. “So long as they sign my paychecks, they can be whatever they want.”
“Oh, I was including you.” Amy said, her face falling to a playful ‘I was serious about that’ expression. She lifted her hand to give it a little wave, her finger making an inclusive circle several inches over her salad plate. “I was including you in the um... quack observation.”
“Is that so?” Watson was, raising a brow and pushing some noodles to the other side of his plate. Moving food was nearly the same as eating it, right? “Well, you’re probably not wrong. I mostly just make things up as I go.”
“Isn’t that how everyone who practices medicine does it?” Amy asked, mock seriously. “I mean, that’s why they call it practicing, right? I don’t practice modelling. I’m practiced enough that I can just do it.”
“You’ve caught us.” She actually had a point, as far as the irony of the english language meant. “We all thought we’d be upgraded to perfect one day, but it just doesn’t seem a title that exists.” Feigned sadness. A little pouty, here.
His pout was absolutely adorable. Amy wanted to reach over and pinch his lip. She didn’t, and she couldn’t, but a part of her wanted to. “Aww, well, you’re perfect in my eyes, John.” She said, giving him a bright smile.
He wouldn’t have minded. But that probably wasn’t the point, was it? Of course it wasn’t. John just turned his eyes down to his pasta and gave a little grin. “That’s all a bloke can ask for.”