I've got sunshine...on a cloudy day.

I've got sunshine...on a cloudy day. (CLOSED)

Sparrow was nervous. She paced a few moments, reminding herself of why this was a good idea, why this was important, why this was necessary. She needed to meet new people in this new city, and he was the only one she'd managed to share more than two words with. Unless you counted the pizza takeaway boy, which she didn't. He was seventeen, and had begun to make fun of the way she said "fruit" anyway.

She took another look in the mirror. Her hair looked nice, finally- that a anti-frizz shampoo was beginning to take effect, her curls now loose and shiny, bobbing merrily in a cheerleader-high ponytail. The sunburn across her cheeks and nose was beginning to subside, and turning eagerly to freckles. Ugh. Exactly what she needed to look more mature, professional, to be taken more seriously. This city was out to get her, and the french fries were -awful-.

No. Focus. We are trying to ask a nice man for a date. A date? Is it? Sparrow paused, her nervousness refreshed. Well, it could be. If he wanted it to be. Or it could not be, or... Stop. Deep breath. It's not going to be anything at all unless you get your butt out of this apartment and go ask him.

Yelling at yourself was always a little better taken than someone else yelling at you. Momentarily, Sparrow stood in front of his door, three down from her own- he had the corner unit, a nice big balcony. She raised her hand to knock, almost too softly to be heard, and waited.

A little bundle of hopeful nerves, wrapped in frothy light-blue gauze. She'd bought this dress just last night, another light, loose sundress to replace tweed and wool. Miami is not Minnesota, for better or for worse- and to be fair, the full, flowy skirt on his little number made her legs look pretty darn good. It also made the best of her chest, though that required a little more effort- she had a slim, delicate shape, her curves mere handfuls.

Well. She didn't intend to spend too much time pondering that. Couldn't, anyway. She heard him moving toward the door, slow, heavy steps echoing the suddenly hard, loud beats of her heart.

Doctor Rhys-Hamilton slowly lifted the top corner of the page as he read the last lines. The page was lifted and turned over, allowing him to continue his reading without interruption. The transcript of the interview detailed the joy that Ralph Matworth got from his time with his last victim.

Sebastian calmly read the graphic details of the cruelty inflicted on the young man who died before the police captured the criminal. There was little mercy shown by the killer, more delight at what he was able to do before his 'plaything broke'. He had long ago reached a point where he held little hope for any kind of rehabilitation for Ralph. All they could do is dissect the pathology and use it to refine the massive collection of profiles held by the FBI.

He lifted his head when he heard the soft knocking on his door. Sebastian frowned, turning to look at the door as if the door decided to make the noise just to annoy him. No one ever knocked, unless they called him first. Had he missed a phone call? He slowly pulled himself out of the chair, and made his way to the door. Whoever it was, he would send them on their way, leaving him to continue his work of making the world a little bit safer from the monsters that it seemed to breed.

He paused at the door, adjusting his clothing a little to make him look less rumpled. When people saw him, they first thought he was one of their football players, rather than a doctor. Standing two metres tall, or six feet six in the imperial scale, he was also heavily built. His body was not fat, it was broad with heavy bones and lots of muscle. He never played their game, and could barely comprehend the rules.

He opened the door to find one of his neighbours standing outside. The young woman had moved in recently, and he had the good fortune to be walking past when she was in dire need of help. How she managed to have the table on her, upside down, was beyond him. But he easily lifted the table off her, and put it down where she had requested. Since then, they had seen each other a few times and he had spoken to her more than any of his other neighbours.

"Oh, hello Sparrow. Is there something I can do for you?" He registered the new dress, the difference in her hair style as well as what appeared to be some anxiety reactions in her posture. But none of them made any other impact apart from the intellectual process of cataloging all the aspects of her presentation at the doorway.

"Ahhh, forgive me. Please come in." His British accent was still firmly entrenched, even after more than a decade since moving to the United States. But his voice was monotone, flat. He closed the door behind them, then went back to his desk to close the file, and secure it in the bottom draw of his desk. Once the draw was locked, he turned back to his visitor.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Sparrow allowed Sebastian to beckon her in, keeping her hands folded tightly in front of her waist. It seemed rather that she had interrupted him at work, a thought that made her brow crease with concern.

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm fine. I'm sorry to be interrupting you. Are you working? I can come back later, or.. or not come back?" Sparrow sounded twice as rumpled as her now-unlikely date looked. It was easy to throw Sparrow off her mark socially, almost laughably so. In fact, on her way to lunch, her dress had earned several catcalls and impolite suggestions- enough verbal static to turn her off lunch entirely, and force her to hide in a nearby pharmacy until the offending construction crew was distracted by the call of their own work. In reflexive awkwardness, Sparrow folded her arms under her chest and curled in her shoulders.

Sweet Pete, Sparrow! Chin up, chest out. He's a very nice man and you're acting like a fruitcake. With almost palpable effort, she forced herself to look up at Sebastian, though the act nearly required her to lean back. Her smile was small, but true, wrinkling the bridge of her nose and causing tiny crinkles at the corners of her big, brown eyes. "I'm sorry. It was a rough day. Let me start again."

All five feet one and three quarters inches of her finely-muscled, slender form straightened up and stilled as she forced her arms to relax. She inclined her head to the side ever so slightly, a nervous tic evolved from her childhood habit of literally flinching when required to speak to an adult. "You're the only neighbor I've met, Sebastian, and I'd really like to get out and see more of the city. I would like it a great deal if you would let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night in return for a little sightseeing tour."

There. Wasn't half so hard, the saying of it. That part she'd practiced a little. The hard part was the waiting for the answer, which, unfortunately, no amount of time spent in front of the mirror could help her prepare for.

Sebastian noted the body language speaking whole volumes about his guest.

'She was clearly nervous, probably over analyzing everything she is doing, and my reactions to her. The dress is new, so she is wanting to make a good impression for something, probably in prelude to asking a favour.

'High social anxiety disorder, moderate to severe shyness, coupled with being in a new environment. Her being here is stressing her, and she has taken some time and effort in preparation. He confidence is fading under the reality of the circumstances.'

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm fine. I'm sorry to be interrupting you. Are you working? I can come back later, or.. or not come back?"

'Definite self confidence issues. Noticeable lack of social skills and associated confidence. Her posture indicates that she is feeling vulnerable, yet can't gather the courage to retreat from the situation. The curl of the shoulders and spine indicative of a desire to be unnoticed. All of this is compounded by the extreme height difference between her and I. Her lack of height may be a contributing factor to the shyness and social anxiety. She may perceive herself as being powerless with respect to others in a social situation.'

He saw she straighten herself up. It was clear to him that it took her some effort to achieve, and the way she was craning her neck made him take a step back in order to help her maintain a healthier position.

"I'm sorry. It was a rough day. Let me start again."

"You're the only neighbor I've met, Sebastian, and I'd really like to get out and see more of the city. I would like it a great deal if you would let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night in return for a little sightseeing tour."

He stood still, keeping a neutral expression as he thought. 'This request of hers is something that she has placed great value on. The tempo of her voice is that of someone who has practiced the lines enough to be able to say them without pause, but not long enough to make them sound natural like a stage actor would. Rather than retreat, she found the reserves to carry through with her request of me. Her earlier smile was genuine, which means she has positive emotions tied to the request.'

"Sparrow, I am honoured that you have thought of me to help you get to know your new home a little better. Unfortunately, the only places I know apart from the beaches are just about every law enforcement building in the southern half of the state and a few crime scene locations that would not be of much interest to someone like yourself. The offer of dinner is appealing, but unfortunately I would not be able to uphold my side of the proposal. Please don't be offended, my rejection of your offer has nothing to do with you personally, rather my inability to, how shall I say, pay my way."

Sebastian knew that it meant a lot to Sparrow, but he couldn't think of any way of salvaging the situation. His mind was more focused on finishing reading the transcripts, and preparing a report for the CBU team. He started to move towards the door slowly.

"Is there anything else, Sparrow?"

Fortunately, Sparrow was much more adept at processing rejection than risking it. Her smile wavered but a little, and she offered a series of quick, small nods, as though she felt some need to reassure him that everything he was saying was normal, expected, even obvious.

"Well, all right. If.. If you come up out of your work and feel like changing your mind, you know where to find me." Another slightly muted smile, keeping her face to him even as she backed toward the door. Her back was straight, though, and she didn't seem afraid to turn her back on him- rather, it seemed as though she wanted him to see her expression, and it's lack of insanity or disappointment, as long as possible. "Best of luck on whatever you're working on, Sebastian."

The soft click of the door behind her was followed almost instantly by a relieved sigh. While she was certainly disappointed that Sebastian declined her offer, Sparrow was now spared the grossly multiplied terror of preparing for a date. Further, the way his answer seemed... final helped ease her mind- she could nearly bet he wouldn't be knocking on her door tomorrow, next week or...well, ever.

In fact, Sparrow pondered, as she padded back down the hall, the only discomfort posed by Sebastian's very kind denial was the fact that she would now be forced to go out on her own. It wasn't a thought she relished, but neither was sitting home all night, feeling like a fool and wondering what conclusions he would draw from her self-imposed hermitage.

If Sparrow realized how very little time people spent thinking about her at all, much less thinking horrid things, she might have been a happier girl. Rather, she tumbled into happiness almost entirely accidentally, and often as a result of attempting to prove some point or quiet some completely-imagined whisper. It was how she'd started dancing, and why she kept at it- beginning to prove that she didn't have two left shoes like every other Jaardkolsen kid, and continuing because no one expected you to speak while you were dancing.

Perhaps she could find a decent club tonight... The thought quirked one corner of her lips in a brief half-smile, and she forced herself to seize the desire before it could be chased away by nerves. Yes. Dancing. She was going to go dancing, all by herself, and that was going to be just fine. Sparrow slipped back into her apartment just long enough to grab her purse, wanting both her id and her mace at hand. One made sure she could get into the club, freckles and all, and the other made sure she could leave it just as smoothly.

Sebastian was his normal detached self as he analyzed the young woman's reaction to his inability to assist her in her request. He built up the expanding catalogue of personality traits shown from her physical display. Even the way she left his apartment was used to refine his profile of the young woman.

"Best of luck on whatever you're working on, Sebastian."

"Hmmm? Oh, thank you, Sparrow."

He frowned for a moment, before returning to his desk and resuming the reading of the report he was working on when Sparrow knocked. Within moments, he was back at work as though he had not been interrupted by anyone.

It was about ten PM before he completed his reading, and writing out the notes for him to use to guide him when he commenced the second stage of the analysis process. He locked away the file, as well as his notes. He walked to the kitchen, quickly cutting up some fruit that normally served as his final meal of the day.

"I could have accepted Sparrow's proposal, with some small refinements. but would it have been the correct decision? It was clear that while there was a desire to seek my company, there was a stronger desire to have that companionship request fail." He took a mouthful of apple and ate it mindfully, clearing his thoughts and letting his brain work on them at a different level of processing. He had discovered that his conscious mind would apply perceptive filters on information while processing, and skew the results he was working on. Yet, if he focused on something else, his mind would work without the interference his own perceptions made, thereby coming up with the more accurate results.

"But what connective points would serve to bring Sparrow and I together in a social situation? We live in the same apartment block. We are both not natives to the city as her accent testifies to. The only other possible reason for a social association given the data at hand is sexual desire." He put another piece of fruit in his mouth, mindfully chewing again. "She is not what I would call an unattractive woman. The physical size differences could cause some issues if sufficient care is not taken. But again, I have not seen her often enough to know if she would actually be sexually arousing. And given what I know of Sparrow's personality, I do not believe that I fall into a category that creates such a state of arousal in her."

More fruit served to feed his body and free his mind. "Unless that was the root cause for her initial approach. Sexual relationships are initiated almost equally by women and men, though the men do tend to hold a slight advantage. Or it may well be that she desires someone to form a social network with, and I do appear to be the only person in the apartment block that talks to her."

He finished the fruit, and cleaned up when he was done. He thought about his own social network, noting that it didn't exist. He had received invites to various social activities with the local law enforcement personnel, but there was a professional association that permeated such gatherings. Invariably people would 'talk shop', and being a profiler, people would talk to him about some of the cases he worked on, or comment about individual concerned. He was well respected in his field, and the law enforcement agencies helped him as much as they could within reason.

Sebastian went through his normal nightly routine; checking the locks and general security of the apartment, turning down the bed, removing his clothes and placing them in the hamper for washing, cleaning his teeth and washing his hands, then retiring to bed to sleep.

As he drifted into sleep, he became aware that Sparrow was simply wanting to establish a social network with people outside her work environment. While he hadn't rejected her outright, she interpreted his response as a rejection and acted accordingly. Sebastian decided he would reopen discussions with Sparrow about her initial proposal, but table a few other options for how he could 'return the favour in kind'. He would do some research in the morning to see what other options existed to come back to Sparrow with. The decision made, Sebastian slipped into a deep sleep, not waking until seconds before his alarm went off at 05:30 the next morning.

It was still relatively early when Sparrow returned home, her body pleasantly loose and warm from her exertions. The rapid, sexualized motions of salsa were not natural to her, but she was an excellent student, and a patient observer. So patient, in fact, that it took three mojito's worth of study to build her repertoire.

Yet, she could understand it, now, feel it, and she knew that she'd continue to, even after this warm, lovely lime addle wore off. It was in her step, in the switch of her hips as she completed the slightly difficult task of unlocking her door. She hummed, softly keeping the beat of the last number alive in her head, indecipherable lyrics replaced with cheerful "la-da-dum"s. It was a lovely, lonely night.

And a lovelier morning. Sparrow awoke to the sun, which inched its way over her covers many minutes before her seven-thirty alarm. That building warmth was the reason she'd awkwardly positioned her bed, slightly off-center and in the middle of her rather spacious bedroom. It was worth weaving around her bureau and desk (and, on occasion, catching her toe quite painfully) to wake up like this.

The gentle start carried her through her shower, and kept a smile on her lips as she dressed. She chose tight black capri pants, admiring herself the way the fabric enhanced the high, toned heart of her ass. A loose white blouse with blue embroidery around the peasant neckline exposed her shoulders and collarbones, the delicate arches and curves now spattered with honeyed freckles. As she tied her hair back with a wide blue ribbon, Sparrow caught her own daftly smiling face in the mirror, and flushed. "Straighten up, now. You're off to work,and there will be no mojitos there."

Stern self-reprimand was better than coffee, and a good thing, too- all her morning mooniness had made her late. Unable to find her other shoes, Sparrow slipped into last night's heels and slipped out the door.

It was, of course, the heels that undid her that evening. She was forced to hail a cab, the blisters of a long day in impractical shoes effectively vetoing her normal walk home. Pink with recrimation, she eased her heels off in the cab, and caught the driver's knowing eye-roll. It was a reason to tip well, wasn't it? Wouldn't want him thinking her some flighty, silly girl with more style than sense.

And so, Sparrow clasped the delicate straps of her heels in one hand, barefoot on the cool tile of the lobby as she waited for the elevator.

Sebastian started his day with the normal routine. He answered his body's calls to empty itself, then he showered, shaved, toweled down, donned a robe and ate some breakfast. The food was something that he varied, randomly, to avoid falling too deeply into routine.

'Too little routine leads to sloppy work practices. Just enough routine to give comfort is good. Too much routine leads to calcification, which is a bad thing for one in our line of work.'

The smell of fried eggs, toast and tea filled the kitchen, making his mouth water until he was able to consume his breakfast. While he ate, he assigned himself the major tasks for the day, and allocated the time to each in accordance to the priorities of the governing matter the task was assigned to. He cleaned up from breakfast, then dressed himself for work. For Sebastian, it mattered little where he physically worked, he still dressed the part to help lock his mind into the proper frame of reference.

He found he needed to observe those personal procedures as a way of not succumbing to the slow desensitizing that occurs in the line of work he was involved in. He was only starting to become aware that he replaced one type with another. While he was not getting caught up with the behaviours of the criminals he studied, he had found himself to be pulling away further from people in general. To shield himself from the monsters, he shielded himself from the people as well.

Dressed and ready for work, Sebastian set about working on his number one priority for the day. He sat down and pulled up everything to do with entertainment in Florida. He spent over four hours pouring through everything he could find, trying to match up the options with what he knew and surmised about Sparrow. When he broke for lunch, he had the ground work laid for what he believed to be an acceptable outing for Sparrow, to repay her desire to have dinner with him.

Lunch over, he resumed his report on Ralph Matworth. He was still reading through transcripts as well as reviewing video footage of the interviews. As he continued with his work, he was analyzing himself, focusing on his own mechanisms for dealing with the material he was reading.

"General shutting down of emotional reactions to the events listed. Overall intellectual approach to the subject matter, that is remarkably similar to dealing with everyday matters." A slight frown marred his face. "When Sparrow came over, I was analyzing her actions and reactions in a very clinical way. I was not really paying any attention to her as a person, more as a test subject. Not the most polite way of dealing with someone who was trying to be nice to me."

He pushed aside the self analysis and resumed the task at hand. Another four hours of reviewing, summarizing, analysis and drawing preliminary conclusions and intermediary stages. Sebastian slowly eased himself from the chair, stretching and loosening up his back. He grimaced, and went to grab his keys. He left his apartment, secured as normal due to the information he had at home. He decided to take the stairs rather than use the lift as he normally would.

When he reached the lobby, he almost missed Sparrow waiting for the lift. "Hello, Sparrow. I wanted to apologize for my previous behaviour when I responded to your proposal. I didn't give it the consideration it warranted, and my reply to you was not defined clearly enough. So, I have decided to accept your proposal, on the proviso that we will together be learning about the sights and other places of interest in the local area." He saw the shoes dangling from her hand, and managed to get a glimpse of the ill effects of the shoes on Sparrow's feet. "I see that you made an inappropriate choice in footwear today that has left your feet in a poor condition. You'll come back to my apartment, and I will see to those properly so you will not be effectively crippled in the morning."

The elevator chimed, announcing its arrival, and Sebastian held the doors open for Sparrow to enter first.

Sparrow had just readied a welcoming smile on her face when Sebastian began to speak. Her smile froze as she listened, and then, slowly, widened. Her eyebrows lifted and her lips twisted and she had to work very, very hard not to outright laugh at his manner, an effort that resulted in the deepening of the smile and a glitter in her eyes. When he finished, she felt as though, really, she had no choice but to be swept up in what was clearly a -very- well-planned date.

And so she stepped onto the elevator, shaking her head lightly in amusement and wondering if he always spoke so carefully, so scientifically. Heaven knew she'd been dragged along on outings much less organized, and managed to have fun. Besides, he was beginning to remind her a bit of the way her father spoke, when he was testifying, or the way he wrote in the reports she'd sneak a read of, heart pounding in the base of her throat, ears alert for his step in the hallway. Her father had never, ever allowed his children to learn about his work, lovingly but firmly reminding them that they were his "sweet dreams"- healthy, smart, mischievous drops of wonder in a world he knew to be brutal and violent.

Sparrow had always been happy to help her father forget. As the only girl, she felt a special responsibility to soften the edges of his life, working in quiet and pleasant conspiracy with her mother to make their home a cheery, sunny place. And he was the only one who never teased her about her size, making a great giggling show of "folding" her up as he repeated "Good things come in small packages!"

Memory made her voice warm , and she regarded Sebastian with softened, if still slightly overwhelmed, eyes. "That's... very sweet of you, Sebastian. I couldn't find my shoes, this morning, so I ended up wearing the same ones I wore out dancing last night. It was a thoroughly inappropriate choice." Working hard to keep the giggle out of her voice, she cast him a smile.

Barefoot, the difference in size between the two of them was almost comical. If she stood up very, very straight and teased her hair, she might have been level with his chest. As it were, she'd need high heels and a stepstool to look him in the eye directly. The lines from "Short People" danced briefly through her mind, a song her older brothers delighted in tormenting her to tears with through their childhood- the way they'd spring from nowhere and sweep her up, shouting "Hello!" into her startled, wide-eyed face and cackling like mad as they dropped her and dashed off. They'd found their sister's unusually small size hilarious and curious, as they, like their father and mother, were broad, tall, blondes, blue-eyed Norwegian walls of friendly if rather imposing muscle.

A sudden blush caught Sparrow's cheeks as she thought that it would be equally easy for Sebastian to pick her up, though he didn't seem the type to pop out and startle, or to engage in such undignified behavior as teasing. She wondered if he had any siblings himself, and if he'd ever played silly games.

Well, that would be something she could ask him about, a conversation she could start on their outing. She made a mental note to think of several others, though she would force herself to leave the index card at home- being caught once with a crib-sheet to social conversation had been enough for a lifetime. The elevator's ding spared Sparrow from reliving that painful memory, and she gestured for Sebastian to lead the way.

One never spoke in an elevator. Neither did one look at anyone else. So, Sebastian kept his eyes firmly fixed forward, even if he could tell precisely where Sparrow was standing relative to him. He was so used to his size that he never felt big around anyone. But Sparrow's own diminutive stature made such a contrast that he could not help but feel enormous beside her. This, in turn made his acutely aware of his movements around her and had him in a rather defensive mindset by the time the elevator finally arrived at their floor.

He nodded gracefully when Sparrow indicated that he lead the way. He politely hobbled his own gait so that she didn't leave her to far behind. But he was a gentleman, and when he finally opened his door, he stood aside and allowed Sparrow to enter first.

"Please sit on the couch, and I will get my kit." He briskly walked into his bedroom, finding the briefcase sized medical kit under his bed. He walked straight over to where Sparrow sat, placing the kit on the floor and opened it up. Many people joked that he could do surgery with the contents of the kit. Sebastian knew that he could do just that, as he had done on two previous occasions. He was lucky enough to save a fellow agent's life the second time, making up for the one he lost the first time.

"Now, let me have a closer look." He pulled on a pair of gloves with practiced ease, then lifted her right foot to examine the array of blisters, abrasions and other ill effects of her footwear. He was gentle, careful and considerate of his patient's care throughout the examination. The same was done with the left foot, and after about five minutes, Sebastian knew what was needed.

"First, I will deal with the abrasions on your feet. A little cleaning, some antiseptic cream and suitable coverings will take care of them. Now, this will sting a little, but it will make sure that the wounds are free of any contaminants." He took out some clean cotton pads, soaking them in a clear fluid. He placed the pad over the abrasion, holding it still for a few seconds. The pad was cold, like any alcohol based cleansing liquid was. He slowly lifted the pad, smiling when he saw dirt, debris and some loose skin come away. He repeated the process with each wound, applying a new soaked pad, ignoring any noises and attempts to move the foot away from the pad. He took out a stack of adhesive pads, and places a small dollop of cream to the centre of the pad. He covered each of the abrasions, ensuring that the cream was evenly spread over each of the wounds.

"There, all done. Well, all of the abrasions are done. One of those blisters, however, needs a little intervention. Now, as you may know, the blister is actually a protective barrier for the damaged skin underneath. So, breaking one is not a good thing to have happen. However, the location of this one here makes the likelihood of such a breakage almost inevitable. It is too taut and prone to breaking. If it does, then it will delay the recovery of the damage done." Sebastian lifted out one of the trays, and retrieved a thin syringe and a long needle. "I will need to drain it a little to take the pressure off the outer skin, while leaving it so it can heal properly."

He paused for a moment, before turning to look Sparrow directly in the eye. "You're not afraid of needles, are you?"

Sparrow had to admit that it was nice to have so much attention paid to her. Relaxed into the sofa, her gaze followed Sebastian's hands, a soft and impressed smile on her lips. The kit was intriguing- much more than a basic home first aid. She'd have to remember to ask what it was he did... A doctor, perhaps?

The needle made her eyes widen and her chin tilt up in a defiant expression of forced casualness. "No. Not afraid of needles." It was a poorly-executed lie, and yet one that clearly meant quite a bit to her. She fixed her gaze on a point slightly above and to the left of Sebastian's, a coping mechanism she'd been taught that allowed the less-perceptive to feel as though you were still making eye contact. Sebastian hardly seemed the type to be less-perceptive, but social grace was founded on mutual selective obliviousness.

Sparrow's fear of needles was a remnant of a childhood spent "sickly". Her father and mother, deeply concerned by her far-less-than-average size, sent Sparrow to a sea of specialists. Though she was a very healthy child, insistent parents have a way of making tests appear from thin air, and so Sparrow began to lose count of the needles and vials and strangely expectant questions about how she slept and how she ate and whether she saw spots in her eyes. Unable to ascertain the correct answer to these questions and wanting desperately to soothe the furrowed brows of her mother and father, Sparrow spent a large chunk of her formative years convinced she was nearly dead, despite feeling really rather quite chipper.

Even decades down the line, needles filled Sparrow with a sort of apprehensive guilt, and the sight of one penetrating her skin never failed to raise a wave of swooning, spiraling nausea.

Still, that was no reason to appear impolite, and so with a fixed and oddly plastic smile, Sparrow continued to contemplate Sebastian's left eyebrow. With the deliberate cheer of someone intent on changing the subject, she decided to learn more about her neighbor, the doctor.

"So, Sebastian, are you a doctor? I bet you'd be a really great pediatrician. You're very... relaxing."

Sebastian knew as soon as Sparrow answered that she had an aversion to needles in some form or other. But he decided to ignore the obvious signs of her concealing of the truth, and focused in the matter on hand, which was looking after his patient. Apart from the slight reaction to the sight of the needle, Sparrow was the perfect patient. She made no moves to resist his guidance, actively or inactively. He found her attention to his actions to be somewhat pleasing and a little off putting. But he remained focused on what he needed to do, rather than on what Sparrow might have been thinking.

He carefully attached the needle to the end of the syringe, ensure the proper fit. He found his bottle of saline, and proceeded to fill the syringe with saline, then pump it back into the container. That way, he eliminated any any bubbles in the needle and syringe.

"So, Sebastian, are you a doctor? I bet you'd be a really great pediatrician. You're very... relaxing."

He paused in his motions, turning to look Sparrow in the eye, noting her lack of reciprocated acts. "Yes, I am a medical doctor. Psychiatrist to be precise." He free hand took hold of her foot, locking it in place with an almost iron like grip. The point of the needle was inserted through the healthy skin beside the blister into the fluid sac. He watched the point enter the destination space, clearing the immediate damaged area. With high precision, he extracted a small amount of fluid, noting the tension of the blistering skin dropping, while not depriving the body of it's own repair mechanics.

"I'm afraid I would make an awful pediatric doctor. I don't have the right personality for such a profession. Though I am glad to be able to set you at ease while being tended to." The needle was removed slowly to minimize the amount of damage and pain caused. The needle itself was removed by the sharp's box, and the loaded syringe was placed in a little bowl to be dealt with properly after Sparrow left.

Sebastian lifted the kit, and placed it on the dining table before he went to sit beside Sparrow. "It is important to wear more sensible footwear over the next week or two. Some of those blisters will take time to reduce. Plus, you need to keep the abrasions covered, except when bathing or showering. If those do not clear up by the end of the week, please go to your normal health care professional for further advice."

Sebastian leant back into the sofa, relaxing enough for it to be noticed, though he still looked rather tense. He was entering into somewhat uncharted territories, or at least uncharted enough for him to have forgotten what it was like.

"Sparrow, when you first came over, you asked me to help show you around, in return for a dinner out somewhere. I haven't been out and about much since moving here. I have been rather focused on my work to the exclusion of everything else. But having given it some thought, I find the idea appealing. I do need to get out more, but I have lacked the sufficient motivation to do so." He smiled slightly, a very unpracticed maneuver that seemed not to flow like a normal smile would. "But, in return for the offered dining out, I have found something that I believe would be of interest to us both."

He looked at Sparrow, trying to read her expression and body movements to gauge how well his amended proposal was being received. "I would like for our individual contributions to remain a surprise to help lighten the evening. I feel that we should wait a few days to allow your feet to heal a little more before that.

"Does that meet with your approval, Sparrow?"