035 - Cinnamon and Brown Sugar

[deadly_ned]

[On video, the Piemaker is wearing one of Dean's protective amulets, holding it in his hand and looking it over. He's also sitting on the man's couch, and looks like he has been for at least a week.

Aside from that, he's...thinner. Paler, and less altogether himself, even as his free hand continuously pets Digby the golden retriever beside him. Digby, for safety, also wears an amulet clipped to his collar]

I'm not much of a necklace person.

I wasn't expecting this to work. It works. I don't feel anything.

I didn't feel anything before I put it on either, so to the person who has my doll, thank you for not hurting it.


This flood is...

[The Piemaker falls silent. His eyes unfocus, and his head seems to drop. Something is clearly twisted up inside him.

This lasts for an uncomfortably long time, minutes worth of dead air filling up the network. Finally, the Piemaker seems to wake back up, wincing and rubbing at his eyes. He glances around, confused, before spotting the camera's light. He reaches over and shuts it off without explanation]

Comments

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

Digby.

[At the call of his name, DIgby jumps from the couch and trots diligently after the Piemaker, who struggles to remain calm that his hand is still locked in Iris' own]

Are there any non-alcohol-flavored ones?

[spam/timejump]

[routemistress]

[Probably not.]

I'm sure I can find some, sweetheart.

[Iris' section of the laboratory is presently littered with horse parts in a variety of artificial materials and various stages of assembly. It's actually her sonic corkscrew - plugged into a sloppily-soldered adapter on her bioreader - that she uses to scan Ned's brain, and she prattles continually and cheerfully while she does it.]

Oooh, look at all that purple. Back in the dark ages they'd've said you 'ad an excess of black bile and prescribed blood pudding.

[The bioreader has a holographic display that floats above it, showing a three-dimensional brain throbbing in colours. It is notably purple-heavy. Iris uncorks a small brown bottle, and a powerful scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air; the purple shades to pink, and Iris giggles.]

Amazing 'ow smells tie up to emotions. I'll never smell pastry again in me life without it calling you to mind, lovey. Well, there's bugger all wrong with your brain. That I can find, any road.

[She rummages through another drawer and brings out a bouquet of multicoloured lollipops.]

...I think the blue ones might be raspberry? Thank you, sweetheart. You were ever so brave.

[spam/timejump]

[deadly_ned]

[Throughout most of the examination, the Piemaker has his eyes closed. He grits his back teeth and hugs his arms close to his body to prevent his shaking. Digby being nearby helps somewhat, but by the end of it he's a raw nerve, backing up into the nearest chair and sitting back down. The talking through it didn't seem to help as much as he wishes it did. The lollipops either. But he takes one, holding it in his hands without eating it]

Five-year-olds getting their booster shots are braver than that.

Does my brain look different from normal humans?

[spam]

[routemistress]

Five year olds don't 'ave bad experiences to extrapolate from, or developed enough imaginations. You were really scared and you came anyway. That's the definition of brave, sweetheart.

[The hologram's still revolving slowly above the bioreader, and Iris squints at it critically.]

Not massively. Nowt I couldn't account for in normal human variability. You do 'ave an overdeveloped temporal node, but I already know you're time-sensitive, and your signal to noise ratio's ...just very slightly out of whack. Which I'm inclined to put down to the flu, 'cause you're not a bloke that normally loses track of yourself.

But I don't see any real problems. Perfectly lovely brain.

[spam]

[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker gives a nod, feeling less confident than Iris about his perfectly lovely, only slightly abnormal brain]

Usually I'm referring to myself in my head as Dr. Frankenstein. This is one of the rare occasions when I feel more like his monster.