THE BROKEN PAST.

Felicity turns, regarding the masked man with unseen, yet questioning eyes. There were few who needed the aid of medical professionals ( self proclaimed at that ) on the cut throat planet of Pandora, &. fewer still who actively went seeking her out. But how was she to complain when someone would wander within her fold on such a suggestion! Best not disappoint!

She turns to him with open arms &., if not for her own mask, he would have been met with a grin. It was one all too excited - be it for company or for that of a new patient or something else, no one would truly know. Either way, a patient was a patient, &. Felicity was all too happy to accept an interesting task.

Striding up to him quickly, she happily yanks at his arm as if to pull him toward a chair ( or anything to sit on in the drab little base she called home for now ). Motioning with her other hand, Felicity begins to speak, ❝ Of course! Creative is what I do! ❞ What ‘creative’ was, she didn’t say - nor did Zed from the sounds of it, ❝ I’ll happily help you, happy as a no born skag! Provided you aren’t scared of creative. ❞ It didn’t matter either way. Now that she had a patient needing something different, she wasn’t about to let him get away. ❝ So, give me all the details, elaborate as poetically as you can, I say! I need all of the symptoms, all of the problems! Tell me now, so I might take a peek!  ❞

          Urick gives this purported doctor the benefit of the doubt and allows them to pull him along by the arm, letting out a lively chuckle in the process. "It's what you do, eh? I definitely came to the right place then!" Urick truthfully wasn't sure how 'creative' or even what kind of 'creative' Felicity was yet, but he could tell right off the bat that they were an undoubtedly exuberant person, and that was a breath of fresh air here on Pandora.

Plopping himself down in his seat, making himself as comfortable as he could be in what was likely a piece of makeshift furniture, Urick goes on to jest a bit with the stranger, "Me? Scared of creative? Not a chance! Unless you're 'Hyperion' creative, then I might start screaming like a Varkid on fire."

          Urick doesn't exactly go on to elaborate in great detail about what's wrong with him (yet), but as he talks, he unconsciously points to the area of his chest where one's heart would be, "The problems I'm having started after I had a run in with Hyperion, actually. You know that slimy, purple stuff that comes out of the Eridium mines? Slag? Let's just say they used it on me, extensively." Urick would have flat out said 'Hyperion captured and then experimented on me with slag for months' but he felt that he implied it well enough. "The slag, it altered me in a few ways that I can't begin to understand. I'm not even sure where to start if I'm being honest." Urick knew he had to start somewhere if this would-be doctor of his was going to offer any degree of help with his problems though, and so he looks up at the stranger, and poses a arguably peculiar question,

     HIS VOICE ELICITS ALWAYS  a particular, internal response from her. the intoner three does not feel much, nor does she feel often. perhaps that is something to be seen as tragic, for it means she is not often happy, but too does it mean that she is not so inclined to annoyance or irritability.

this man, however, if nothing else, tempts her to sigh in something close to exasperation.

she watches him with empty eyes his panicked gate, violet briefly befalling the disembodied armisael he holds in his hands. her apathy-laced reaction is not only lacking, but knocks upon the doors of non-existence. the words that follow are not so much an insult as they are observation: “ … you worry a lot about things you know nothing about.” 

with impeccable timing her doll saunters into the fray, headless but autonomous. towards the masked man its arms come outstretched, expectantly propositioning the return of its head. its joints creak and rattle with the movement, like an ill-oiled machine.

“ see ? … no big deal. ”

Urick was a little worried, not for his typical reasons when it came to Three-- his pact partner wasn't around right now to fill him with a dose of fear for the Intoner-- more so for the thought that he might have seriously offended her, something that wouldn't bode well with One, Two, or any of the other sisters, not to speak of the immediate retribution he expected from Three herself (he knew how serious she could be with her 'dolls'). Thankfully for Urick, the situation didn't devolve like he expected it would. 

          "Hold up." Urick, watching the headless Armisael with equal parts confusion and intrigue, carefully lowers the head back onto its body, and when it snaps back into place good as it was before, he lets out a hearty laugh, "They do that? This is normal? That is amazing!" Urick, one hand on his hip, now looks to Three with a quizzical, and arguably dumb grin beneath his helmet, motioning to the Armisael while jokingly asking, “These things get bigger don't they? I could have sworn I saw a giant one walking around once. You could take the heads off these and throw them at people, people like Zero! I don't think she would ever expect that. You and your sister’s wouldn’t really need all of that fancy singing or those disciples then.”