first experiment; 9:53 PM

[originallutece]

For our more vampiric population, I come to you with a solution for your dietary problems.

I've invented artificial blood. A substance you can consume without harming others, but that will sustain you much as food and water. I owe a debt to Elena for helping me test them.

Unfortunately, it cannot yet be used in a medical sense-- for blood transplants, which are, by the by, a very important part of medical knowledge, which makes up the second part of this announcement.

If you do not know your blood type, come see me, and I can at least determine it. Blood types are a vital bit of information in a place where one routinely gets cut to bits. Transfusing blood-- that is, the act of giving one's blood to another-- can save a life in many cases. However, if the wrong sorts of blood interact, the result can be deadly.

Many of you do not know your blood type. This will, inevitably, come back to bite you.

So. I suggest you come by my lab within the next few days and find out, before you nearly die of an injury, manage to make it back to town, and then die of your original blood sensing the invader and killing off the cells that came to theoretically heal you. What a horrible, ironic death that would be.

Comments

[originallutece]

I compare your blood with my own as a base, and see how they react. There are four outcomes, and thus four bloodtypes, with further classification distincting between positive and negative.

A grievous oversight. Come by after your rounds are done, then.

[policier]

Very well. You best not be drawing too much of your own blood, however.

( Is he concerned? Perhaps. That just gives him all the more reason to stop over, and he does, after his patrol. He knocks on the door firmly, but politely, waiting for her to answer or to open the door herself. )

Rosalind.

[originallutece]

[She looks . . . no better or worse than anyone, frankly. Injured, but aren't they all? The patch over her eye is here to stay, though, and those cuts, while starting to heal, are still aching badly. It's likely they'll scar, but she's resigned herself to it.]

Take a seat.

[She takes a step back, allowing him in. The iron scent of blood is thick in the air, but of course it is. She, at least, doesn't look particularly pale or drawn, or at least not in such a way that suggests she's been exerting herself. Along the wall, there's vials of blood lined up, each with a particular label: a name, followed by a blood designation. It matches the sheet of paper she's got nearby, where she's scrawled the same information.]

Have your patrols yielded anything of interest today?

[policier]

( That's just as well. He'd hate to have to be the one to nag her, especially since he is no better at taking care of or otherwise overexerting himself. Patrols are nothing of the sort, however, even given his injuries. He takes a seat on one of the chairs in her lab, removing his hat and gloves as he does so. )

No. ( He sounds bitter about it, scoffing, ) Only an old fool who insists on decorating the square for Christmas. Such nonsense.

[originallutece]

Roll up a sleeve, please.

[She readies the needle and container.]

Is it the decorations you hate or Christmas itself? And keep in mind both is a viable answer.

[policier]

I do not hate the decorations. It is only the celebration that I dislike.

( He sheds his coat and rolls up his left sleeve, extending his arm out to her, palm up. All the while, he continues to grumble, just as he does every time she asks him about his day. There's always something to complain about. )

I do not enjoy parties, or people making an unnecessary fuss.

[originallutece]

I assume that means you shan't be getting me anything this year.

[It's teasing. Or at least, if not teasing, meant more lightheartedly. She says it even as she slips the needle in him, the motion sure.]

[policier]

Is that what you wish of me?

( He hadn't even considered getting anyone a gift. Her remark may be teasing, but like most of her jests, Javert considers it quite seriously. Is this a social obligation of his now? He's distracted enough by his ideations, he doesn't even notice the needle. )

[originallutece]

Perhaps. There's aspects of holidays that aren't entirely loathsome, you know, so long as you're celebrating with company you enjoy.

[policier]

I suppose.

( It's not as if he would know. He's never had anyone to spend the holidays with, much less anyone he enjoys spending time with. He considers the prospect for a moment, before asking, )

You would wish to spend Christmas with me, then?

[originallutece]

I presumed we would.

[She says it smoothly as she pierces the needle through his skin. It takes almost no time at all for the blood to draw, and then she's putting a bandage on him.]

Though I can leave you be if you'd prefer to spend the night on your own.

[policier]

No.

( She mentioned it, and now that the idea has been put in his head, he can't refuse it. It may be a frivolous holiday, but if it is only with her, it should not be so bad. Once she finishes bandaging his arm, he rolls down his sleeve and buttons the cuff. )

I am not unopposed to the idea, should it be with you. You do not irritate me as the others do.

[originallutece]

I do not irritate you? Surely you can do better than that.

[She drawls it, and it almost lands. It almost does. But there's something missing in her delivery, something that takes her ordinary wry humor and twists it, making it come out a little too brittle. For a moment, her hand jerks in aborted movement, and then she sighs as she busies herself with his blood.]

In any case: it ought to only take me a moment.

[policier]

( He catches it, of course. There isn't much that gets past him, certainly not when he's spent so much time around her, getting to know the difference in her tones and her idiosyncrasies. He fumbles for a response, and when it does not come, the moment passes, and the inspector falls to silence. His blood is of the O+ type, and as she works to discover that, eventually, he asks, )

Will you return home once you are finished with this?

[originallutece]

Soon.

[She focuses on her work, on the way her blood reacts to his-- and when she sees what it is, she even manages a flicker of a smile.]

O-positive. Fairly common, but not overwhelmingly. You can donate to anyone else with positive blood, which is saying a great deal.

[policier]

Is that what most here have?

( Positive blood. If this were any other time, Javert would allow her to continue her work uninterrupted, but he's curious. )

[originallutece]

Around half the population has a positive blood type. Here . . . I'll have to compile the results.

[A beat, and then there it is: something she wouldn't say to anyone else.]

I'm afraid it's been a very long day of writing down blood types. My memory fails me.

[policier]

It is fine.

( He could check the slip of paper she has on her desk, but that would snooping, and he has no real reason to do so. She admits to her fatigue, and that's enough to distract him, making him feel a tiny sliver of concern. )

You may tell me when you are finished. Perhaps now would not be a bad time to rest?

[originallutece]

[She hesitates, but if it's Javert saying it, she must look particularly exhausted. And she is exhausted, honestly-- she doesn't bother eating, not unless they're taking a meal together, and sleeping has always been difficult for her. So yes, she's run down, because you only need to do the bare minimum to survive around here, but she's never been particularly good at taking care of herself.]

All right.

[One last label, then, before she comes towards him.]

Home? Or do you still have rounds to make?

[policier]

Home.

( He answers, and he'll be certain to force supper on her when they get there. He wouldn't say that he nags, but he's been getting quite close to it ever since she stumbled home bloodied and wounded. When she walks over, he stands and dons his coat, his hat, and gloves. )

If you are not yet tired, we could read together.

end;

[originallutece]

I'd enjoy that.

[She really would. She's gotten used to these comfortable nights, sitting with him with the fire roaring. It's comfortable, but more than that: it's safe. Contained, in a way she likes very much indeed.]