i keep on breathin' | darla

What had she gotten herself into? Reagan was in her third year of training at Dilys Derwent, and of course she had appreciated Darla's mentorship to above the sky and beyond, but she was having second thoughts about working with peds. Not really, she was just being dramatic -- but getting a gigantic, spitty wad of Droobles stuck in your hair was not the best way to start your rounds. Reagan didn't consider herself to have a particularly volatile temper nor a bad bedside manner. Quite the opposite, actually -- she was proud of the disposition she maintained with clients. She adored kids. She understood when they were traumatized from terrible medical experiences, but this was quite literally the furthest possible thing from that. Alfie Smethwyck's mother had brought him into the ward because of a recurring patch of painful boils he'd been acquiring on his stomach, and even lifting up his shirt to examine the problem had been an ordeal.

Reagan's icy-blue gaze, normally warm in feel but certainly paralleling the color right now flicked over to her mentor, Darla, and she let out a barely audible sigh, adjusting her lemon-yellow robes self-consciously. The machine-gun like giggles coming from Alfie Smethwyck were enough to make her insides vibrate with irritation and embarrassment. How horrific for a child to stick a well-loved piece of Droobles blowing gum in her hair and for his mother not to say anything! The witch shuddered to think of how her own mother might've reacted to such a stunt if she'd pulled one in the hospital. She never had, of course, but when @Carey Baisley had had Spattergroit, there had been some tussles. Nothing like this, though. No resistance just simply to resist the help one was being offered. Needless to say after her internal rant, Reagan was appalled.

"Well, Alfie," Reagan began calmly, looking down at her clipboard and pretending to be reading something to avoid making eye contact with the boy or his horrible mother, "We'll give you and your mother a minute to discuss whether or not you'd like treatment. I can imagine that that boil must be painful," Her eyebrows quirked, "So I'll let you reconsider. I'll ask you to please spit your gum out somewhere other than in my hair while I go clean this up."

Making a beeline for the bathroom, Reagan clattered her clipboard down on top of the paper towel dispenser and clasped at either porcelain side of the sink, growling in frustration. "Ugh! What a.... brat! I normally don't have such issues with kids, but seriously?" She frowned to herself and made a noise of defeat while she examined the mess the pink glob had created in her previously-perfectly manicured hair. She wasn't exactly a materialistic person and even considered herself relatively laid back, but having gum in one's hair during a shift at the hospital just... looked like she couldn't handle her job. What a waste of three years of training if she couldn't.

The brunette witch sighed and whisked her wand from a pocket underneath her robes and wondered if psychology -- studying mostly unwilling children's brains -- would be any better than getting hit and spit on and puked on and getting gum in one's hair. Thoughts like these made her head spin sometimes. Medical school was the literal school of hard knocks. She'd cried herself to sleep over it before and woken up with dark bags under her eyes no 20-year old should have. "Oh. Hey, Darla." Reagan mumbled and pointed her wand at her hair, unceremoniously chanting "Scourgify," as her wrist moved in the characteristic 'S' motion. The gum levitated straight out of her hair and Ray pulled a face, directing it toward the wastebasket. "Eugh. I'm really sorry about that, I'm just. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I guess. I understand if you want me to. Not go back in there or whatever. His stats are up there," Another halfhearted gesture pointed toward the paper towels.

If she had to voice her opinion regarding Reagan, Darla would always highly praise the younger witch’s honesty, as her habit of not sugar-coating her thoughts was definitely a trait a healer should have. However, her resident still had a lot to learn in regards to children; Darla felt her heart breaking a little when seeing that Alfie Smethwyck stuck a piece of gum in the girl’s hair, but mostly because she knew that this was merely the first time out of many that would happen to Reagan. Frankly, she’d personally lost count of how many times it had happened to her, and she wasn’t even regarding it as an unusual occurrence; her protégé’s reaction to the entire situation had reminded Darla that, in fact, it wasn’t especially customary to deal with such issues.

Darla smiled sympathetically in Reagan’s direction as she could feel a coldness in her blue eyes; she understood how her protégé felt, perhaps more than anyone else. If anything, the healer could still vividly remember the very first time this sort of accident had happened to her, and the embarrassment that took over her at the time. She allowed Reagan to address the patient, and Darla’s smile slightly widened upon hearing Reagan’s calm voice. Good girl. She thought, especially proud of her student. It was a good experience, something which would toughen up the other witch. In the end, not all children were nice; in fact, the vast majority of them were especially spoiled and hard to deal with. Darla did not mind anymore, for she learned that it was only adding further to her own stress. Still, she could never deny that some parents were completely irresponsible and not even offering their children proper education or a basic knowledge of good manners. But they weren’t there to educate people; that was vital to understand, better sooner than later.

As the resident retreated herself, Darla remained with Alfie and his mother for a few more moments. She’d further explained what the treatment would require, and after placing an emphasis that the mother should calm down her young one before they would commence, Darla had also casually mentioned that it is St. Mungo’s practice for the healers to use calming potions on children should they not behave and not allow the treatment to be appropriately applied. As a result, she offered Mrs Smethwyck a form, as the standard procedure required the permission of the guardian, should healers be placed in the situation of having to use such potions. Afterwards, Darla kindly stated they would come back in an hour’s time, to allow Mrs Smethwyck enough time to either calm down her child, or decide on signing the permission.

She then made her way to the bathroom, neatly arranging her lime-green robes as the door closed behind her. “Reagan.” Darla replied to her resident’s greeting, and allowed her to take the gum out of her hair, as she went to pick up the stats from where Reagan had placed them, near the paper towels. With just one glance, Darla could tell they were greatly written, and Reagan had been as thorough as she’d instructed her to be. “All is fine, don’t worry about it.” Darla raised her gaze towards the other former Gryffindor, her smile warm and sweet. “I told them we would go back in an hour, so Mrs Smethwyck has enough time to either make sure Alfie behaves or gives us permission to give him a potion for his” she paused, trying to delicately pick out her words “giddiness.”

She turned around to properly face Reagan once more, and then her gaze went towards the girl’s hair; they needed to talk. Darla was aware the first time one experienced such a difficult child as a patient was extremely hard; she wouldn’t have survived it either without her mentor. “Let’s go to my office meanwhile.” She added, her voice as reassuring and soothing as possible. “We can talk about several things.” Darla shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been there myself, you know. Wasn’t exactly keen on everything from the beginning.” She then opened the door, and with a slight tilt of her head, encouraged Reagan to accompany her to her office.

As soon as they arrived, Darla started preparing some tea; both of them needed some after Alfie, not only Reagan. “Alright.” She placed a cup of oolong tea in front of her friend as she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. “A sip, and then just” Darla paused, her smile as warm as before. “let it all out. Explode.”