you know i'm no good [mcdreamy]

Did that kid have fangs? Wide brown eyes stared at the almost angelic kid who was suddenly hissing at her. Everytime she came to this place, there was something new, something she'd never seen before. Last time she'd seen a man with feathers all on his hand, and he'd stared at her like he could look into her f*cking soul.  Now she was getting hissed at by some ****ing cherub who looked like he had hellfire in his eyes. If she was going to die, then it'd be doing something spectacular. Not death by toddler. She'd hate for someone to have to explain to her parents that a rabid kid bit her neck apart. Blo sat on her hands and tried to quietly scoot her chair into a different direction. Tried, because the uncomfortable  chair decided to make this screeching noise when she moved it on the tiled floor. She froze, staring off into the distance.

Blo sat like that until her name was called, and then she jumped out of her seat with a hurried "Praise Merlin" rushed through the open door, not looking back at the spawn of Satan. The difference between the lobby and the actual office was startling. The lobby was as homey as it could be for a doctor's office. The office was white with bright harsh lighting and she quickly blinked to get readjusted. Some part of her thought it was appropriate for her secret hell to look like an all white death trap when all she wanted was colour. She followed Rosemary, the friendly nurse who always wanted to chat with her when she came in. The woman was friendly enough, a grandmother with rosy cheeks, but it was stuck in her mind that she was one of the people who knew.

The basic examination was simple. They scanned her with a mixture of muggle and magical methods, some of them modified for the more exotic clientele that they had as patients. Blo just happened to be one of the few plain humans that used this clinic. Letting out a squeak when she felt the stethescope against her skin, she sent Rosemary a cutting look and pouted when she was laughed at. Maybe it was childish of her, but she hated all of this fuss over her. She sighed softly when Rosemary petted her shoulder, assuring her that the healer was going to be on his way in a moment.

A devilish smile curved her lips when she was finally alone. Oh Doctor~! Kit Emberton was the oldest young guy she'd ever met, when it came to her taking care of herself. He was Evie's big brother, and she was so close with Evie that him seeing her as something less than what she put out into the world was kind of rattling. So out of bravado, and to keep her equilibrium she tried to provoke him, get him down on her level. It wasn't fair, but it made him look at her as less of something broken that he was trying to fix, and more of an annoyance. And she was fine with that. When the door opened and she saw her prey slave driver healer, her lips curved into a wide smile. "Oh hello, Doc. If you wanted to seem alone again, you could have just sent me an owl. We need to stop these clandestine meetings every month. What would Evie say if she saw us in such a compromising situation?" From the way the door closed harder than usual, the former Slytherin could see that the game had already begun on a high note.

This was going to be fun.

Blodeuwedd Kincaid.

The name stood out on Kit's list of clients for the day as he prepped that morning, coffee in one hand and croissant in the other. It was only the woman's monthly checkup, nothing extraordinary, but he knew her better than to underestimate the potential of what was to come. Blo as she preferred, had been coming to his office for quite some tiem and always found a way to make the visit interesting despite being one of his few 'normal' patients. Kit would have chosen a different adjective to more accurately cover the headache that inevitably plagued him the moment she walked out the door, but he would be lying to say it didn't liven up his day.

As the day went on, the man found that a bit of liveliness was just what he needed. Not that he would ever admit to Blo that she could aid him in that, of course. After being verbally berated by a five year old, half-veela with a temper, Kit decided he had earned a cigarette break between patients. Although he had dealt with the veela temperament on more occasions than he could count, it didn't fail to phase him coming from a particularly sweet looking blond child who, just moments before, was batting her eyelashes up at him.

"Back in five. No parties," Kit called over his shoulder to one of the nurses with a smile as he headed for the upstairs balcony that doubled as his private sanctuary when in desperate for an escape. Having his own practice was taxing emotionally and physically. Sometimes the solitude was necessary to get through the day. Kit bided his time, dragging on his cigarette slowly while mentally recounting the events of the day. The brunette man was so distracted by the past he had completely forgotten that his most exhausting case had yet to come. In fact, it wasn't until he strode in the door and saw the familiar big hair and colorful clothing that he remembered. 

Before Kit could even get a word in to greet her, Blo interjected. How true of her character, he mused with pursed lips. "Miss Kincaid," The man cooed with an eye roll, grabbing the enchanted clipboard that had taken extensive notes during his nurses preliminary checkup. As electric eyes scanned the messy quill marks, Kit noticed a particular scent in the room. Minuscule, but distinct. "For shit's sake, Blodeuwedd, did you have a smoke before coming in here?" He slapped the clipboard on the table next to him and took a step closer to the woman accusingly. He had specifically told her on numerous occasions that due to her condition and medication that she needed to cut back on the vices. At least he had been smart enough to charm the smell off of him before coming back to work.

If he wasn't her favorite healer type individual, she would have popped him one. Luckily for Kit, he was on her nice list and she wouldn't feel right causing his pretty face any type of permanent harm. However, his crime wouldn't go unpunished. He'd done what many before him had done, and regretted. A sneer, while playful, covered her face as she gazed at him. "Blodeuwedd? Really? Healer, I've sworn we've had this conversation before. Call me Blo, or I'm lighting your robes on fire." And she would. Bluebelle flames so it really wouldn't burn, but flames nevertheless. He'd pay for his trangression. "It's bad enough that you call me Miss like I'm a little girl. Blo'll do fine." She smiled sweetly, kicking her legs.

Ooh, right. What had he'd said? Smokes Her fingers itched as if she could feel the Djarum dangling between them, and the lingering flavour of the clove cigar tickled her taste buds. If it weren't for the fact that she was inside the office and Kit would probably smack it out from her hand, she'd be reaching for the case in her pocket and lighting one up right then. She bit her bottom lip,looking at him almost like a guilty puppy. She'd done what he'd asked, for the most point. She'd stopped drinking, stopped partying every night, and was on an on again/off again relationship with her one true love: coffee. She'd done everything but give up smoking, and he was going to yell at her about it? Bastard.

Blo held out her hands and looked down at them. They were shaking lightly, something that'd been occuring frequently over the past couple of weeks. She hadn't been able to floo him because she was on assignment in Greece, but it was troublesome all the same. "Something is wrong with my meds, Doc. Smoking is the only thing that seems to calm it." She said in a pale mockery of her usually cheeky tone. "I've got the shakes, and me chest is starting to hurt when I do a bit of light running. Not even running. I bolt up three steps and my heart is racing, and my breathing is f*cked." Blo met Kit's eyes briefly, before looking at the ground.

If she was honest, she was scared. It'd would have been the third time in as many years that she'd had to change potions regimens because her body just kept getting used to the potions. This time was different, however. She'd never woke up shaking, unable to write without minute deformations destroying her work. She hadn't even told Julian, because even as much as he cared, he had this new girlfriend to deal with. She was in this on her own again, and she'd have to deal with it.

"You think it's the lack of sex that's doing me in, Doc?" She said, familiar grin appearing. "Cause if that's it, I'll be sure to rectify that immediately."

Oh, how easily this one fell prey. Kit didn't even try and hide the smirk that tugged at the ends of his lips. Instead, he reveled in it, gaze unwavering under Blo's sneer in his direction. Over the years, the Healer had learned exactly how to counter this little game his patient liked to play - the flirting, the outrageous comments, nothing shocked him when it came to her anymore. Kit found that Blo's full name was a particular point of contention, and he used it to fight back whenever possible. "Have we now?" The curly haired man reached a free hand to scratch his messy scruff in feigned thought. "Must've slipped my mind, I'll write that down," Kit winced, his top row of teeth biting down on his lip playfully.

The man's face dropped when the conversation turned uncharacteristically serious. He knew when joking was appropriate, and judging by the smallness in Blo's voice, this was not one of those times. It was rare that the woman let down her bravado filled charade. Kit watched carefully as she displayed her shaking hands, blue-green eyes flicking back up to her own in quiet thought. The Healer pursed his lips as she continued to explain her symptoms, nodding periodically to indicate that he was following.

The enchanted quill behind him was scribbling loudly and furiously on notepad, but the gears in Kit's mind were working even more diligently to come up with a conclusion. Blo had cycled through dozens of potions at his suggestion, but they all eventually ended with the same result, right back where they started. Just when he thought she had finally let her guard down, she snapped back almost seamlessly. Kit let out a drawn out sigh, mostly to muffle the chuckles that were fighting to erupt from deep within his chest. He had to maintain some level of professionalism, here. "Lack of sex?" Kit repeated with a shake of his head. "Something tells me you haven't a problem in that department," He quickly added with raised brows.

"You're breathing," Kit began while hoisting himself up on the counter directly across from Blo. "Is fucked because of the smokes, love," He leaned forward, palms planted on the cool marble surface for support. "The shakes, though," The Healers face turned serious. "I think we need to change potions again," He glanced over at the compilation of notes that had accumulated over her visit. "Let's give us a look," Kit waved his wand and a magical telescope with protruding gadgets, dials and gauges flew at him. The man hopped off the table to get closer to Blo. "You know the drill, it'll be cold," Kit held the device to the skin over her heart, his other hand holding her shoulder carefully. "Deep breath," He wasn't even sure why he was instructing her at this point. Blo was a professional after her countless visits.

"Have you done this before?" The Healer joked, casting a glance at the dials to see the results. "One more, big breath," He squeezed her shoulder before turning back to his notepad to write down the outcome. "Now these shakes," Kit leaned against the counter. "Anything in particular that bring them on? Or is it constant?" He questioned.

"Git." She snarled playfully, baring bright white teeth before smiling. At least Kit allowed her to have this little bit of shield from reality. He could be harsh and slam facts down her throat, making her feel more insignificant and weaker than she already did. The rapport they had, while unconventional, worked for them. She could keep a shred of dignity, and he was free to speak his mind. He'd suggested that she'd bring somebody to the appointments sometimes, but the furthest she'd been able to go was to make someone else her emergency contact. There was knowing and then there was knowing. For someone to sit in the room and hold her hand was against her independent nature, though she sometimes wished for it. After this, she'd be weary and wrung out, and nothing would feel better than to be carried out and cared for. That wasn't an option, so thinking about it was a waste of time. She had the here and now, and would go at alone, as she'd always done.

Blo looked at him, and her head dropped down. The worst part of these appointments was when he turned serious on her, frowned at her in that sympathetic, sad type of way. She knew things were bad, and only getting worse. To see it on his face, to almost feel like she was helpless was like driving a wedge into her soul. She wanted a drink, wanted to get lost away from that penetrating gaze. Damn white people and their coloured eyes. She'd used to be jealous when she was a little girl, but she had her grandmother's eyes, and that was more than enough for her. Swinging her legs, her hand absently raised up to rub the center of her chest as was her nervous habit. She was down enough now, that even commenting on her lack of a sex life wasn't even enticing to her. Funny how fear destroyed her desire for quips.

When he moved, she refused to meet his gaze. She stared at everything else, mostly his hands. There was something intangible about the beauty of a healer's hands. Her father had such hands, hands that could be used to do good. Would Kit's hands be the things that stopped the constriction in her chest, brush away the fear? "Smoking is the only thing that seems to calm them...if I can't do that, what can I do?" Big fearful eyes finally stared at Kit, and she worried at her bottom lip. He'd been kind about it, but there was nothing that could take away the fact that unlike the rest of the people  her age, she couldn't have fun the way they did. These were her wild years, and the wildest she was able to get was staying up past 1 am.

No.No.No. Her face dropped further when he mentioned changing the potions again. That was always a bad time. When she started a new regimen, she was mostly useless. Tired all the time, sleeping days away. Kit knew how much she hated it, and as much as he tried to sympathize, there was nothing he could do about it. Blo watched the instrument of torture come closer to her, trying to brace herself for the cold sensation. A faint little whimper was her only reaction, and she took a deep breath as requested. A tiny hand stole up to wrap around Kit's wrist where it was holding her shoulder, and she used him as something to hold onto. Blo didn't do it often, reaching for support, but this time...she needed it.

A soft smile stole across her lips for a moment at his joke, and she laughed low. "No, not at all. It's me very first time...No blood involved, so it's considerably better than other first times." She rolled her eyes, letting go of his wrist before scooting back against the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest, looking at him. Right. Her shaking. "It's a bit of both, really. Sometimes I can go hours without noticing it, or it happening. Or, they will last for hours, and its very minute. Never in the mornings, and they taper off at night...Sometimes they aren't that bad...other times I can't wrap my fingers around a quill without ink destroying parchment..." As a writer, it was devastating to her. As an artist, it was even worse.

"I haven't had any episodes lately, except for that little one earlier this month. And you can't yell at me, cause I came right to you afterwards...Are you sure I have to give up the smoking? ...Just the tobacco, right? Not the wacky." Her voice was a whine, a hopeful one at that, and she didn't care. Restricted diet, restricted fun...Blah.