We Are Wild

Smiling, he inserted the needle before pulling it out and disposing of it while the sav sat out to warm up a little, he didn't want to send the poor guy into shock. Once he settled in front of him, he raised his brows, impressed. "Not a lot of people work with silver. Iron is easily less expensive." He murmured. "Hopefully your project is worth the while. Although, I am a fan of white gold myself." A small joke in the grand scheme. "I take it you're prone to injuries, being so casual about this. Do you weld for a living?"

When asked how he spent the weekend, Zach chuckled. "I spent it probably terrifying people with my shouting because I couldn't hear anything." He admitted, ruffling the mess atop his head. "I also spent it trying to write and comfort those also without hearing. It was a painful set of circumstances. I couldn't come to work because what good is a doctor who can't hear his patients complaints?"

"I'm on to you bartenders." He joked as he settled in with his glass. "I say 'you pick', you say to yourself 'top shelf'. I spend money, I'm drunk enough to tip well but that 30$ bottle of bourbon is better than the 120$ bottle." He joked, leaning back to stretch for a moment. "Keep the change." He added, sliding it back to her. "So, every bartender has a special drink, one they make better than anyone else. How about you? What kind of drink do you do better than anyone."

Max glanced at the boy curiously. "Not exactly. You'd probably want someone directly in pulmonary function, but I can tell you if there's damage to them. Alls that requires is a few simple scans, if you're willing to sit for them." He offered. Shrugging, he stood from the monitor and grabbed his stethoscope. "Not to mention a good old fashion listen, but you'll have to follow me into one of the exam rooms for that. When were you first diagnosed, Mr....?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I do a lot of things for them. Music, dance for those who still can and it never seems to be enough, you know? Art? That's permanent. Something they're going to make that their parents are going to keep, even if they won't be around for a long time." He murmured. "I want them to know there's a way to leave their mark."

At being called a 'young' Max's brows knitted together with mixed confusion and amusement but he let it slip past. So far he'd watched the man down quite a few, but tilted his head and sighed. "Drink about another half a handle and you might be nappin' with the catfish." He responded. "But you're right. I come from a place where we respect tradition and uphold it best as possible. Kids these days... hardly know the meanin'."

Max smiled at the woman, remembering her name from their first encounter. "Unfortunately, not this time." He pointed at the white around the heart. "See this? This is muscle tissue that hardened. It's a genetic disease called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. His heart is working too hard, and in his case, he's too fragile for a heart transplant." Whenever kids the boy's age were handed death sentences, Max had to quietly regress into his study for a day or two. "Ah, yes. Let me get into that system."

Max did hear the scoff, supernatural ears twitching at the sound as he raised a semi-amused brow. "Well, the least that could be done is have the less than scum sorts leave ya'll be." He murmured. Putting another bill on the table he nodded. "Whatever bourbon you think is the best without grabbin' the top shelf to make a buck."

Max appraised the man's hand, taking the unburnt bits in his hold gingerly before grinned at the other. "This, at the very least, looks manageable." He responded. Standing, he offered the man his chair before digging in one of the closest bins for most of the proper necessities. Punching in his key, he got the lidocaine and the sav necessary to deal with that level of burn out before he kneeled in front of the other. Filling a syringe, he looked up at the man. "Not afraid of needles, right?" He asked, southern tones leaving the last word with a slow drawl.

Despite the hope that she would find humor in his joking, she proceeded to show that small amount of worry, the hesitant sort that showed maybe she'd already seen a dark side to someone not of the human variety. "I promise.. you're never gonna have to worry 'bout all that with me." He murmured. "Anywho, I have an offer for you. Something I've been working on. I want to teach some of my kids art. I want you to help me out." He grinned with a small, hopeful grin.