Healer Enright was guilty again – guilty of failing to think about the patient as a patient and instead thinking about him as a problem to be solved. It was a nasty habit that, so far, months of psychology coursework had been unable to break – not that she'd put a decent plan in place to go about doing so (they hadn't covered that yet). Jonquil may have been at this healing thing for a few years now, but she was still comparatively new to the profession, and the power of life and death was still a lot of responsibility for a twenty-four year old who, only a decade prior, couldn't use a wand without supervision. She was as friendly and human as any witch or wizard under normal circumstances... but in the throes of a crisis, she had the tendency to forget that little detail. She looked down at the patient on the gurney rather passively, hands on her hips, and sucked on her front teeth, thinking. “Has anyone called for a consult from Poisioning yet?” she asked the mediwitch who had been assisting her, her voice carrying, backing out of the room and turning her eyes toward the stairwell to the ward.  She felt like she'd asked ages ago – and nobody could say they hadn't heard her, because she was more likely to be told to keep it down.

She may have continued to stand there like an idiot if she hadn't recognized the approaching healer by his distinctive hair color – and although her mind was a mysterious land of organized chaos, it was organized, and she was able to retrieve the knowledge that her badger-headed cohort did, in fact, hail from the third floor. It would have been convenient if she could recall his name, but that wasn't her concern at the moment – she'd work it out if she needed it. She didn't wait for him to cross the threshold, but decided to meet him half way. Keeping still and feeling useless was not her forte.

“I'm Healer Enright,” she said, falling in step beside him, “And I'm hoping you're here to consult on my Bowtruckle patient.” She ran a hand over her hair as they neared the patient's bed, but paused so she'd remain out of earshot – she had that much common sense, at least. “The lucky gentleman was climbing trees and has acquired some nice gashes, which I'm more than happy to take care of, but unfortunately he fell when he was attacked, and in addition to completely shattering his leg, he's reacting to whatever plant he landed on. The break is sorted, and I've stopped the bleeding, and the wounds are covered and contained, but I won't close him up until I know what sort of reaction we're dealing with.”

The summons came when he was striding across the floor about to head down to the apothecary to replace the testing solutions in his blood test case. Choosing between filling up the vials and seeing to a patient was an easy affair at most, so he simply got down to the first floor on his way. Perhaps it would be a simple affair.

Hearing a voice that carried itself a little further than it should be in a hospital made him revise this idea.

He clattered down the stairs and strode across the floor. She didn't sound utterly happy, which was usually a warning sign for the situation at hand. Creature Induced was not a floor he was used to very much; he'd worked here when he was training, but faces had changed and he certainly didn't recognise the healer who met him halfway from the stairs. Paying attention to people now sounded like a good idea, but he wasn't for formal introductions. It wasn't often that he needed to state his name, not when people kept asking for him by way of the phrase "that split-haired healer".

"What plant did he land on, did he say? Or at least describe." Their distance was out of hearing range for the patient from the bed, good. "Unless he didn't say anything? Not inclined to say what exactly he was doing with Bowtruckles that would require him not checking and making an offering to them first?"

He glanced at the patient as he said. The wounds looked somewhat nasty; the edges were green and the skin around the wound swollen and red. Well, it was a happy coincidence that he was indeed carrying the little case he used for bloodwork, but he wasn't sure if the tests would require any of the solutions he'd run out of. He didn't like the look of that set of gashes.

“He didn't,” Healer Enright informed her colleague, “As it was described to me, he was too busy falling out of a tree and breaking his leg to take much notice of the scenery – and I have difficulty blaming him.” Jonquil had the luxury of examining him upon admittance and mending the break... and it hadn't been a friendly little fracture, or a nice clean split in the bone. The natural response to that kind of injury was writhing on the ground in agony... and that was before she even factored in the open wounds caused by those tiny, wooden Bowtruckle finger-swords. She'd be more concerned if he had whipped out a field guide in the middle of all of the chaos. She knew that she had to stop the bleeding, mend the break, and get some blood replenishing potion in the patient before she could expect him to be at all helpful.

“All he said was that he was climbing trees. I haven't decided if I believe him as of yet.” She turned her head to glance at the utterly miserable looking young man on the bed, as if to appraise him. What else he could have been doing in a wandwood quality tree she wasn't sure – and if he'd had other plans, she figured he'd be a little more prepared. It wasn't too much effort to distract a Bowtruckle... unless there had been more than he'd expected. “Maybe we can narrow things down a bit...”

“Mr. Greenley?” she asked, addressing the patient now. Her voice was loud, and it carried – she spoke as if the wizard in the bed was very elderly rather than someone who might have been her contemporary. It was habit. “Can you tell me where you were climbing when you fell?”

The wizard looked up at her with exhaustion in his eyes – he'd been through a lot in a very short period, had quite a bit of potion in his system, and still wasn't entirely on the mend. It took him a few seconds longer than one might expect to respond with ”Hampshire. Patch of forest out there.”

She turned back to the healer-who-had-yet-to-identify-himself. “Well,” she said, “It grows in England.” 

Hampshire. He hadn't been out there, but his mother had. As far as he could recall, only five kinds of plants over there would get irritated if something heavy crushed them, but any one of them could have similar symptoms. Plants in small isolated forests tended to be variants of one another.

Damn. He'd been hoping this would be easy.

"He can explain himself later, I'm more concerned about what's happening to those Bowtruckle wounds," he said, balancing his bloodwork case on the edge of the bed, carefully out of the patient's sight. He addressed the patient this time in a clear voice. "Hi, Mr Greenley, I'm Healer Hollingbury. As far as I'm concerned, if you're not setting a dragon free in the countryside, then whatever you were doing is none of my business. If it's okay with you, I'm going to just need a bit of blood from you. But please, while I'm doing that, tell me if the plants did anything to you besides give you a nasty reaction? Wrapping, stinging, possibly slapping, jabbing, biting, anything?" He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. "Or anything else, you are free to tell me."

The healer paused, and then looked back at Enright. "If he's having this bad a reaction and apparently broke his leg, who got him here in the first place?" he queried, an expression of curiosity on his face.

Hollingbury. She said it a few times in her head, hoping it would stick. She stood back with hands resting gently on her hips, looking and listening as the wizard addressed the dopey patient. The testing kits they had on this floor were for venom, or corrosive saliva, or just plain, old rabies – nothing that would have told her much about whatever vegetable patch of despair Greenley had been rolling in. It was smart of Hollingbury to bring his own kit down. He was prepared. She appreciated that.

'Maybe,' the patient said, something shifty in his heavy-lidded eyes, “Maybe t'wasn't the bowtruckle,” he blinked, “It kept right on jabbing me – broke the skin. But... t'might've been the plant.”

Jonquil squinted, thoughtful. She pressed her lips together, and cocked her head to the side. “Sir, can you tell me, did you actually see a bowtruckle?” she asked. That was... kind of essential information, even if his motivation for being in the tree wasn't. He was a young man, well dressed, rugged. It was possible he'd fallen out of a tree without help from an angry tree guardian and was trying to save his pride. The fact that he grew more honest once a male healer started working on him was also a clue. She sighed, releasing the breath slowly through her nostrils.

“His mate managed to get him home, from what he told me,” she explained when Hollingbury addressed her, “but he called for medics from there... which explained why the leg was in such rough shape when I got to it. He still didn't look nearly this bad when they brought him in.”

Arcturus didn't wait for the replies; rather, he listened while he did his work. As long as the patient was distracted, he could do his work. "Very mindful of you to call the medics despite doing something you won't tell us," he said casually as he carefully mended the exit cut he'd quickly made to get blood from the man's arm.

Jabbing. That narrowed it down to three plants. As much as he'd like to blame the natural world for coming up with a nasty variety of plants that did various things when attacked, there wouldn't be much point to it considering whose fault it was in the first place. The healer gave him a pointed glare, but it passed very quickly.

The patient seemed reluctant to answer Enright. Arcturus was free to ask him any questions, but quite frankly he didn't want to be doing all the work himself. This was not his floor. "Please answer what she's asking you, my good sir, my mind is otherwise occupied," he said as his hands picked out the solutions he suspected would pinpoint what he was looking for.

Did he have enough? He glanced down at the vials. One of them had less than a milimetre left. He'd have to ration it to one drop.

He hadn't heard an answer yet. The healer focused on him. "Please answer her," he repeated, voice slow but deliberate. The tone promised something for the patient. At the least, it reminded him he was at the hands of people who could help him. At the most...well, that was left up to his imagination.

Healer Enright crossed her arms over her chest – not that it would help at all. If Greenley was trying to impress a lime green clad woman who, moments prior, had been painted liberally with streaks of his own blood, it wasn't likely that a bit of convenient camouflage would distract him. She nearly snorted when the other healer referred to him as 'my good sir'. She wasn't convinced that he was particularly good at all. She was rather convinced that he was an imbecile – she'd met enough to know. “You should always listen to the man who is extracting your blood,” she suggested with a tiny smirk, “It's just common sense.”

“Now, did you or did you not see a bowtruckle?” she asked. This was fun. It felt like a mystery novel! It also felt thoroughly ridiculous and like a massive waste of her time... but they had to wait on the results, anyway, so it was just as well, she supposed.

Merlin, the bloke was blushing. She was pretty sure he was blushing. She did not have enough self control to prevent herself from rolling her eyes, so she paced a little circle and did it where he couldn't see. “Sir?” she repeated once she'd regained her composure.

He mumbled.

“Sorry?”

'I didn't see any bowtruckle.'

Aha.

“How about your friend?” she asked, “Did your friend see a bowtruckle?”

'Wasn't any bowtruckle.'

Jonquil nodded. She kept her smile contained to the smallest little creases at the corner of her pursed lips. With a gentle sigh, she sat herself in the chair next to his bed, crossing her legs at the knee. “Tell me what happened,” she implored.

'I fell out of the tree.'

“All on your own?”

He nodded.

She turned her head to catch Healer Hollingbury's eye, the slightest twinkle present in her own. “There wasn't any bowtruckle,” she repeated. She could have laughed.

Tests were narrowing down to two plants. Arcturus was starting to lose his patience, but only ever so slightly. This was an utter waste of his time, even though one last test needed quite a bit of time to go through. He straightened up and glanced at Enright as she paced around a bit. What was so funny? He looked back at the patient.

The whole conversation wore on the stone of his patience a little more. He saw Enright give him a certain look, and as much as he was annoyed he had to give her a half-amused, half-bewildered expression back.

"So," he said to the patient, "are you meaning to tell us that the tree gave you a rash? Or were you, apparently, dressing up for the tree's admiration?" His tone was still polite, easily mistaken for genuine questions that somehow challenged someone's intelligence. "Are you allergic to the tree? Did the tree, by any chance, spray you with pollen in self-defence? Why were you going after the tree? Are you dating the tree?" He leaned forward. "Would you like me to stop asking you questions? Because you can. You have a choice. Either you tell us what happened to you or I keep challenging your mental capacity because by the looks of it you seem somewhat capable of appearing intelligent in front of this fine young woman you seem so hesitant to speak to."

He shut the bloodwork case, the last test bowl still bubbling away merrily, shaking his head. "Well, all shall be revealed with this last test, so either way we're going to find out."

Jonquil laughed – loudly. She couldn't have contained herself if she wanted to. She was glad that she was seated, because if she hadn't been, she would have more than likely found herself leaning on something for support. Her loud laughter faded into intense, silent, shoulder-shaking chuckles, complete with tears in her eyes, and then ended on a profound, sing-song sort of exhale. “Are you dating the tree,” she repeated, deadpan, snorting as she wiped the stray, amused tears from her eyes. “Is this what you lot do up on the third floor?” she asked, semi-incredulously, giving her head a shake. “Are you dating the tree! Sweet bearded merlin!”

“Come on,” she urged the patient with a sniff, far more relaxed now than she had been earlier – sometimes a good belly laugh was all it took. “What happened? We're dying to know. And the rash can't be comfortable. The sooner we know, the sooner it goes – and then lucky me gets to close you up nice and tidy and send you on your way.”

She sat back, looking to Mr. Greenley expectantly, brows raised. He looked a bit like he'd prefer to die of his injuries, and the sooner the better. “The truth will set you free,” she reminded him, cocking her head to one side.

'I jumped' he said.

“Pardon?”

'Me mate dared me, so I jumped. Thought the bush would break the fall, so I aimed for it.'

“Fantastic!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands in front of her chest and rising to her feet. “Was that so hard? Not a bowtruckle at all, but a woody shrub with a bone to pick! What say you, Healer Hollingbury? Does the story match up?”

Oh, good, they got somewhere. Though he didn't approve of Enright's laughter and considered it unprofessional of a healer, he was at least satisfied they eventually got the answer they wanted out of the patient. The final test was finishing, and that was enough to let him know. He kept his poker face on; he felt that at least one half of this impromptu team had to at least remain professional.

"Thank you for your information, Mr Greenley," he said, disregarding Enright for the moment. "Everything points to the Hampshire Crab Shrub, rather notorious for curling its leaves and poking anything that puts its branches under heavy weight, injecting an irritant formed from its sap. It seems you may have had an additional reaction to that. It forms a symbiotic relationship with a tree as its roots often do not form properly without the right conditions, mostly to do with the quality of the soil in the region. While it seems comfy from a distance, it is certainly not the most even-tempered bush in Hampshire. I do not recommend you jump into this bush again, although I don't doubt you've learned your lesson."

He turned away to shut his bloodwork case and ended up facing this...Healer Enright. She seemed a little too wet behind the ears for him, but once upon a time every healer in the hospital had been there.

"Get him an Anti-Allergy salve applied to those wounds immediately, or he's going to have a bad night," he said to the healer. "Mostly swelling, increased itchiness, pustules and fever. He'll need bed rest for at least three days, two if he recovers a little faster, but also give him some more of the salve to take home just in case. Crab shrubs live to annoy. After the Anti-Allergy salve, just give him two teaspoons of Dilution potion and make sure he doesn't bleed, because his blood is going to get watery for a few hours. There's no cure for Crab Shrub irritants," he made a little sigh at this, "but with any luck we can diminish his...suffering."

Arcturus made as if to walk off, but then remembered she had asked him a question. "Oh, sorry, you did ask? We get up to this on the third floor?" He shook his head, his poker face still completely straight. "No, it's just me. A little advice, Enright - patients don't usually like being laughed at.

"Although," he added, giving this patient a side glance, "maybe this one deserved that."

Jonquil looked at him with a quizzical tilt of her head, and then another – she squinted a bit, and then readjusted, pursing her lips, and then nodding. “Ah,” she said, “I wasn't laughing at the patient, sir, but thank you so kindly for the advice.” The patient was, absolutely and without a doubt, an utter imbecile – but a complimentary one, in his way... and, frankly, she'd met dumber. The patient had not been hollering crossly about dating trees with a straight face. That had all been Healer Hollingbury. These, she supposed, were the sorts you were expected to meet in the field. She'd been warned about them – the brilliant eccentrics. Depending on the day of the week, she could be one of them herself. She hoped, however, that in her own practice she was never so cooly oblivious... and if she was, she thought, she hoped she'd be shot. Quickly.

“So are you recommending discharge after treatment, healer? Assuming no complications?” she asked, one hand sitting akimbo on her hip, “If so, I'll get him set up. If not, Mr. Greenley will be transferred to your floor.” He was no longer a Creature case, after all, and thus, he was taking up a bed. Unless he'd definitely be vacating that bed before the next shift change, he'd need to be near a healer with a comparable specialty who could make sense of his chart without another time consuming consult.

"Discharge after treatment should be fine, but he might have to be monitored for further complications since it's an allergic react--" He paused to take in the rest of what she said. "--Well, you might have to transfer him anyway. I'm sure you need to free up a bed for someone more important than a simple case of plant poisoning that the 3P are frankly supposed to deal with." He shot a pointed look in the direction of the patient's bed. "Lying doesn't keep the paperwork clean, but I suppose it would be unreasonable for me to expect people to be that considerate."

Arcturus stood there for a moment, and then turned to the clock situated high up on the wall, out of most patients' sight. "Hm. Give him maybe til the next shift change. If he's not better, he goes upstairs. Does that help?" He re-shut his bloodwork case after fixing the last bowl - cleaned while he was talking about the treatment, and nearly forgotten about - inside it. "You're lucky you caught me with this case, but I'm going to need to refill the bottles in it now. I hope the apothecary can provide the ingredients I need to replace the potions." He shrugged. "All in a day's work, I suppose."

He gave a polite nod to Enright, and a subtle smile. "I hope your patients won't give you any further trouble for the rest of the day, Enright."