#casey posts;

"---Hello." He smiles warmly at his new patient as he steps into the room, gently shutting the door behind him in the process so as to not startle the man. "Sorry for the wait, it always gets busy this time of year. People are always so accident prone when home for the holidays. Guess being around family and in-laws and whatnot brings out ones inner klutz. Must be all the nerves." It was a slight joke, a small attempt at small talk before he side steps to his desk and sets his clipboard on his desk. "So what can I help you with today?"

The man is minding his own business, walking along the sidewalk until he notices the person in front of him begin to stumble. He'd pass it off as just a simple clumsy accident if it didn't look so violent --- so to speak. Like it was coming from the center of their body rather than something caused from a simple misstep. So with a slight frown, he calls out to the figure the best he can.                          "Hey! Is everything alright up there?"     He can't turn the Doctor in him off     even when he's not at work. 

Casey hurriedly rushed around his kitchen,  attempting to grab himself a quick breakfast and at least one cup of coffee before he had to hit the road. Every morning he was in a hurry, it seemed, and he was lost in his own little routine when the knock sounded at his door. At first, the man didn't hear it, but as it became increasingly  persistent, it became impossible for him to ignore. With a small grunt, he sets down his coffee mug  and heads to his door, opening it with what he hopes is a pleasant enough smile.                   "May I help you?"

"I don't know." He squints, straining to hear any incoming noise as he lowers his eyes to look at the girl. "I'd tell you if I knew." He's slightly frustrated as he waves his hand in the air, looking behind him as though that would help him to hear the sound a little better. "It sounds like --- talking? Like a crowd. You don't hear that. really?"

"---Shhh. Don't speak. Do you hear that?"

   "Hey --- you! Do you want a cookie?" He'll raise an eyebrow in the others direction as he tilts the box toward them, showcasing every single one of the rather unappetizing assortment. "They're homemade." He didn't make them, but he received them. That counts for something.