Sick Call for Healer 4
„Well, time for soup,“ Asmodeus said and stood up. But, after having another look around, there truly… was no a kitchen. He distinctly remembered a cake being made in this very building. He even partook in the process. But… that was downstairs. Community kitchen, most likely.
“What’cha you looking for?” A sniffling voice said, coming from a very compact angel consisting mostly of blanket, sticking-up hair and glassy eyes.
“Your kitchen, angel. Soup should be warm.” And Raphael nodded like it was the most profound wisdom they ever heard.
After maybe ten seconds of this, an answer was forthcoming: “Don’t have one.” A slow blink. “Microwave in the lab?”
He looked back at her. This was a genuine inquiry. “I… maybe not my first choice, but-“
“It’s sterile… and clean, too!” She nodded. Sagely.
… that was not always true at the same time here, was it?
She attempted to unfold from her current sitting position, clumsily pulling at the blanket and-
He put a stop to that with a hand on her shoulder, leaning slightly over: “What exactly are you trying to do?” There was not an ounce of understanding in her eyes.
“Go… in the lab?” She looked at his hand and returned to eye contact. No explanation followed, for once.
“Let me take care of that.” He patted her shoulder. Angel really had not been sick before. “Any instructions?”
After five seconds of silence, she said: “Your hand’s nice ‘n warm. Keep it there?”
Oh? Asmodeus tapped his fingers. At any other time it would be amusing enough. But she definitely had a fever. Under his hand, she felt warmer by a fair bit. Not the best stage, feeling temperature in reverse. He shook his head: “I think we’ll get some warm soup in you, and I meant for the microwave.”
“Oh.” Another accepting nod. “… lower dial for time. Wattage’s the upper one…” She concentrated, trying to figure something else. Then: ”Petri dishes stay closed. S safe now, but don’t touch the things. Any things.”
Well, that sounded ominous… but she did curl up on herself and shivered when he removed his hand. It could not be that bad, could it? “Will do. Be right back”
When he walked into the laboratory – soup in hand - , he could see that it might actually be that bad. The petri dishes – sealed, for all he could see, so it really was safe – could be found all over the tables. Everything was labelled. With each strain of bacteria or amount of penicillin mixed within the agar. There were some impressive growth within some of them. Naturally, the ones in the incubators were worse, but… the microwave. It was built in directly next to an extractor hood. Sure.
Simple, metallic… the rotator disk inside seemed a little more sturdy than usual, but otherwise… perfectly clean, so why not. He plopped the beholder in, set the gadget up for 2 minutes at 800 watts and that was that. It started working.
Two minutes to look at the wide array of chemical mixtures lining the side of the counter. Rare metal solutions, simple acids and bases, some solvents. The coolers and distillation apparatuses did not do much to calm the impression of ‘ominous’. But there was a poison cabinet. In her private laboratory.
The microwave made a dinging noise.
He wouldn’t touch anything. Still was a bit of a surprise to find all this in the angels living quarters. Certainly had hobbies…
