"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

It was not often that Vivienne found herself in a position to so violently exercise her vocal cords. Every patient and visitor on the fifth floor turned to the staircase landing with wide eyes. The Healer blushed but maintained businesslike composure, staring straight ahead at an old, grey-haired witch sitting at one of the tables with a tea cup nearly at her lips. "Mrs.Rose. You're not supposed to be drinking tea in the day." Viv addressed her patient in an indoor voice as she took long, efficient strides to the table and gently pried the ivory cup from the woman's knobbly fingers: "I've told you a hundred times now. It won't go with your morning medication."

Mrs.Rose glared sullenly at Vivienne but said nothing. It was a good thing the mediwitch had told her about the patient coming up here, they couldn't afford to have her relapse into another epileptic fit at this stage-- someone ought to have kept a better eye on the poor thing while Viv was on break. Granted, a real break hardly existed in this hospital. Hurried steps erupted from behind and a pair of mediwizards appeared at Vivienne's side, out of breath. They looked apologetic but she waved away any imminent apologies, telling them to return Mrs.Rose to the Janus Thickey ward. Annabelle Rose was the kind of patient you had to be tough with... no soft, nudging tones or gentle reminders with that one.

Viv watched the staff escort her patient back downstairs. The other guests in the tearoom had settled back down to their own business and its standard, nearly sacred silence was restored. Nothing but the clinking of china and faint murmuring. It was a pleasant tearoom, with ornate furniture and proper tableware. Someone was baking scones in the hospital kitchen-- the air was saturated with the smell of butter. In all honesty, it was easy to see why patients sometimes escaped the wards to come up here.

The Healer sighed and dropped into the nearest empty seat. A scone would be heaven about now. Some raspberry jam, clotted cream. Hot cinnamon water, maybe. Absorbed in such imaginings of food, Viv hardly noticed the fellow that was approaching her table just then.

The commotion was rather startling, and Archie found himself snorting his ice water through his nose in surprise. Immediately, he grabbed his face and coughed. Contrary to what might seem like common sense, the icy water passing underneath the bruised and cut bridge of his nose didn't feel good. In fact, it felt bad. Very, very bad. He blew his nose with a stray napkin and gingerly tapped his wounds.

As a magizoologist his job often involved dealing with magical creatures who had become mentally unstable or aggressive, so he was used to hanging around St. Mungo's with big spreading bruises on his cracked ribs or a broken arm or two. It wasn't every day he got so clawed on the face.

The hippogriff he had been working with that day had recently become a mother, and was totally out-of-control territorial. Note to self, never mess with a mom. Check. Her talons had caught him hard across the bridge of his nose and the right side of his face, and the last swipe she got in before he managed to hop the gate to safety had cleaved his upper lip on the left side with a very sore vertical cut.

Luckily, he had managed to settle her down afterwards, but the trip to the hospital was pretty much mandatory unless he wanted a bunch of big infected scars bringing his game down.

He searched for the source of the ruckus, and was surprised to see a very pretty young woman slump down into a table. From the way several tea room patrons were still looking her over, he guessed that she had to be the culprit. He knew he didn't have nearly enough shame to avoid talking to her just because of the garish gashes on his face.

Walking through the tea room he juggled some lines in his head. Did it hurt? When you fell out of heaven? that was one of his favorites. Do you have a bandaid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.

The more he thought about it, though, they seemed painfully lame for a setting outside of a seedy bar. He sidled up to her and cleared his throat. "Nice set of pipes, there," he rubbed the back of his neck and grinned, even though grinning hurt like a beeotch. "Do you take requests?"

Dammit, I thought I said we weren't gonna do that! he snapped at his brain. His brain shrugged.

"Nice set of pipes there."

Vivienne looked up, over her shoulder at the wizard who she could only assume was speaking to her. Enfer, his face was a mess. "Do you take requests?" He asked with a grin that made him look... well, not particularly happy. Manic maybe. But it wasn't an unpleasant effect and anyone with facial injuries had to have some nerve, running a line like that with a frazzled healer.

Weary but still playing along, Viv raised an eyebrow at the man: "Not here, I don't." Which wasn't just her being witty-- she did some singing at the Jazz cafe down in Hackney, on free weekends. Not that anybody in the hospital needed to know that. The tearoom was flooded with another wave of buttery scents and someone in the distant kitchen could be heard, faintly yelling out orders. Viv shifted her position and folded her arms thoughtfully as she regarded the figure before her: "Why- do you have any requests?"

He surreptitiously sank into the chair opposite her and held up one hand. "D'you know 'You Are My Sunshine'?" he asked with a little grin. It was his favorite song, and it had been his mother's favorite song to sing to him as a child. He didn't usually tell people that for fear of being laughed at. Having not heard it for some years, he was willing to risk ridicule. "It's a nice one," he added.

The bustle of the kitchen was relaxing. He liked hearing the far-off, ambient sound of dinnerware clinking and the slow communication of tired kitchen staff. It wasn't until then that he noticed his wounds were bleeding slightly. It wasn't... he didn't think it was real blood. He was fairly sure it was just some stuff jarred loose by his unwelcome nasal irrigation.

"D'you know 'You Are My Sunshine'?" Vivienne's wounded wooer dropped into a seat at the table, grinning at her before adding: "It's a nice one."

Oh, nostalgia. The tune played in Viv's head almost immediately and she knew that whether she liked it or not, the song was going to be her ear worm of the week. Inconvenient but amusing. She was about to oblige the fellow a tickled laugh when she noticed drop of crimson trickling down his face; all that smiling probably hadn't been good for his face . Viv leaned forward, expression suddenly concerned, and reached out to gently press the healed gash on the upper lip: "Oh, Merlin. Your wounds will open up if we don't clot it again. Hold on."

With her other hand, she retrieved her wand and held it close to the wizard's nose. "Staima." Vivienne stopped to think before lowering her wand and resting back into her chair. Some of the Healers or mediwizards never bothered to stop external bleeding once they healed an injury. She sighed noiselessly and shifted her gaze to meet the man's: "It'll clot on its own eventually but that will hold it. We can get you a tonic for it, later." A mental note was made.

"This job never really ends. Those look like some very impressive injuries, I must say..." She broke into a tired smile, aware of how drained she looked but also quite glad to be approached by someone who probably wasn't going to wake up the next day wondering who the hell he was.

After she performed her ministrations, Archie tapped the wound gingerly. Finding no blood on his fingers was a big thrill. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to drag you into working on your break." Archie loved his job, and he had to imagine that healers must love theirs, too, but that never stopped him from feeling guilty for inconveniencing them. Or inconveniencing waiters. Or cashiers. Or policemen.

He folded his arms and tried to look nonchalant. In reality, the injury had scared the bejeezus out of him. He had been attacked by Hippogriffs before, but never had one taken him so off-guard. The damage had been done before he had a chance to use his reflexes. And the sudden deluge of pain and panic made him fearful that his heart was going to beat out of his chest. "Oh," he said as though he'd forgotten he had them. "Yeah, I guess so. I mean... I've had worse." He pointed to his gashes. "It was a mama bear. ...Hippogriff. ...You know what I mean."

"It was a mama bear. ...Hippogriff. ...You know what I mean."

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, impressed but also a little worried. "Oui. I must admit, I would have been most intimidated in your position!"

She remembered having to deal with Hippogriffs in Hogwarts. Magnificent but terrifyingly overpowering creatures. Studying the man sitting across across from her, it seemed almost absurd to imagine him dealing with something like that. He looked... too normal; and maybe even a little endearing. Like someone she would expect to find in Diagon Alley, smoothly persuading her into buying a very popular fragrance or potion. Charming grin and a kind of hapless manner.

"So. Do you simply run into Hippogriffs on your daily commute or do you work with such animals, mister... ?"

Too late to back out-- Viv was already intrigued by him and that was enough a reason to get to know a fellow, bloody gashes or not.

Archie grinned bashfully. "Aw, no, it ain't really a big deal," he said, obviously embarrassed. "I work for the RCMC over at the Ministry. I'm a magizoologist."

The name had always sounded stuffy to Archie. He preferred being called "Animal Guy," which is what he was called on most of his previous jobs. That sounded a bit more like the dorky backwoods Arizona boy he really was. "It's kind of a boring job most of the time," he added quickly. "It's not always all this talons to the face stuff. I'm Archie. ...Friar."

He picked up a spoon from the table and started fiddling with it. "I take it you're a healer, then...?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Archie Friar." Vivienne gave a courteous bow of her head-- she did not quite expect him to be a magizoologist. Members of the RCMC were all animal lovers but they always seemed to be getting hurt by the creatures... dangerous little romance, that. "I take it you're a healer, then?" Archie trailed of and Viv smiled.

It was hard to ignore the lime green robes, fluttering to and fro the hospital corridors like verdant moths: "Healer Thorpe. But you're more than welcome to call me Vivienne." It felt peculiar to be introducing herself as a private individual to somebody at St.Mungo's. It had become a common occurrence since she started work on the fourth floor; people who suffered spell damage, it seemed, were far more talkative than those suffering magical bugs.

A tea lady was going around the room with a squeaky cart, offering hot drinks and snacks. Viv glanced to the old woman and then back to Archie: "I was just about to wind down from my last shift with some tea. Would you care to join me or are the Hippogriffs waiting on you?"

"Oh believe me, the pleasure's mine," he replied with a little grin. "Most of the people I get to talk to are pretty much... well.... not people," he added. "...Because... they're animals."

It seemed, to the poor bumpkin, like the most exotic name he'd ever heard, outside of the silly wizarding-style names people seemed to adopt here. Well, it might have just been the way she said it, but regardless, he was terribly impressed. "Well, jeez, if I'da known you were gonna come out swingin' with that kinda name I'da lied about mine!" he joked. "Maybe I'da said something like... "The Baron Reginald Von Huffington" or something like that."

Archie eyed the drink cart with a smile. God knows what had become of his drink from before. It wasn't on the table anymore. "I'd love to," he replied. "But can I get milk? Just plain milk?" he addressed the last part to the cart lady.

Vivienne watched silently as the tea lady set down her cup and saucer, full to the brim with the hospital's afternoon brew- a very pale Earl Grey. Archie received his cup of milk and the witch moved on to the next table with a limp. A few more visitors streamed in, speaking in hushed voices as they grabbed seats nearby.

She turned to the wizard and picked up her cup, an impish smile tugging at the corners of her lips: "Well I'm glad you aren't a Baron. They don't have quite so interesting stories as being attacked by maternal Hippogriffs." Viv sipped at her drink and set it down with a delicate clink.

"Odd choice of beverage. Brittle bones or are you simply a man of plain tastes?" Her eyes met his teasingly. He looked like the sort of man who could take a good jab every now and then. It was hard to joke with the patients... there was always the possibility that they would take offence and no Healer wanted to be accused of insensitivity. Especially not on her floor.