leftwithmybones | (no subject)

(no subject)

Eventually, McCoy realizes, he's going to have to tell his subject that he's decided to use him as a test subject. True, it's something he's hoping to put off until the last minute, but it's becoming more evident than ever that he needs to get his hands on the tech in order to put together the lenses. He can only do so many practice runs before it's time for the real thing. That means conversations and expectations and a lot of things that come with things like this, but most of all, it means talking to the patient.

He waits until Auggie's out of the more public areas, calling his name and standing behind him in the hall. "Auggie Anderson, yeah?" he says. "I'm McCoy, Leonard McCoy. Do you have a minute to talk to me?" he asks, not bothering to get in front of him. Auggie can figure out where the voice is coming from and it's up to him whether he actually wants to talk.

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"Blood tests," McCoy says. "I'd like to do a physical and make sure you're in decent shape, but I don't want to get your hopes up. I won't even explain the procedure until I know you're a healthy candidate for it, otherwise I'd be just as bad as all the ones you dealt with in the past," he says calmly. "I'll say this, though. I'm not looking for blood type or some magic hint in your genetics. I'm looking to make sure your body is healthy enough to go through this."

Auggie can appreciate skipping the cautiously optimistic speech. He didn't buy it then and he won't buy it now - hell, after the first test he had done, he really only agreed to any other at the urging of his family.

"Yeah, sure, go for it," he shrugs, pliant for now. It sounds simple enough, and not really all that invasive. He's also comfortably certain he's in good shape (even with everything that's been going on recently), but he'll let the tests prove that. "How long does it take to get results here?"

"I'm doing them, but it's mainly the question of equipment. I'd have your results for you before the night's out," McCoy says, judging how much time it'll take him to work on them (and he doesn't intend to take a break, not unless Jim forces it on him). "There's one other big thing you should know," McCoy warns. "If we do go through with this, I need your cane."

He'd mentioned before about him having something he needed. Auggie hadn't asked when it first was brought up, but now the comment makes sense.

"Why? What are you going to do with it?" he asks, though he suspects he already knows the answer to that. Even though he doesn't know much about the medical stuff this place has, what he does know is there isn't a whole lot of technology available on the island.

"Make you contact lenses," he replies, given that it's the simplest explanation. "And a receiver," he adds, leaning his elbow against the table and looking at Auggie to try and judge whether or not he'll be willing to give that up.

Auggie doesn't need it spelled out more than than that. The cane isn't going to survive whatever he means to do, and he'll be getting his hands on what makes it work. It's a lot to ask for more reasons than he can ever really understand, and it's not an answer he can give for sure, if that's what he's looking for.

He's got people to talk to. Even a year and a few months removed from his job, he still respects some protocol. Handing over government technology to someone without bringing it up to his superiors isn't something he's willing to do. Thing is, no one knows his status yet, so he can't spell out his reasoning straight out. For all anyone knows, they were all co-workers - nothing more.

"Let's just see if I'm even a candidate before we get into the details," he suggests, evenly. It's not an answer tow what he's asking for, but he likes to think it's clear he'll at least think about it since he still wants to go through with the bloodwork.

"That sounds like a cautious plan to me. I love it," he promises, digging through his drawer to find a few empty vials and one of his clean hyposprays, loading it up. "I'm using something from a little further than you're used to, so don't mind the hissing noise. You might not even feel so much, so, I'll take your palm, please, and I'm gonna get you to make a fist for me."

"Should I ask exactly what you're using to suck my blood out of me?" he asks, lifting a brow even as he holds his hand out as requested, just letting him move it as he likes. Considering he has no idea what to expect, it seems the simplest way of going about this.

He's honestly just surprised this place comes with advanced technology, period.

"It's called a hypospray. It's essentially your 23rd century version of a needle," he explains, loading up the vial and settling closer to Auggie's arm, tying a tourniquet around the bicep. "Okay, I'm about to draw the blood. I'm taking two vials total, so we ought to be done within twenty seconds. Sound good to you?"

At least the tourniquet is something Auggie's used to. Even with the name, he's not really sure what to expect, so he simply sits back in his seat. He nods his head at the question after, not having any more questions.

"I hope you don't mind if I don't watch," he replies with a slight smirk.

"Funny," McCoy deadpans, but he's used to that kind of humor and there's a part of him that genuinely does get a kick out of it. "Loosen your fist," he instructs quietly as he starts the intake process, staring at the blood and hoping that it'll hold some answers in it.

"I try my best," Auggie replies, and he doesn't even wince when he starts the process. He's right, it barely hurts at all. Feels a little weird, but doesn't hurt. He relaxes his hand on cue, figuring it's probably best to follow along with instructions, not knowing what might happen if he doesn't. "Good?"

McCoy's quick with the blood. He's been doing this long enough and for that brief period of time when he tried to cure his father, he'd taken blood samples on a daily basis to try and heal something that refused to be healed. "All done," he promises, releasing the tourniquet and capping the vials. "I should have enough to tell you whether you're a candidate."

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