i lost all of the fear

[inkdamage]

Who: Severus Snape & Ilde Decima.
What: Science.
Where: An atypical apothecary, somewhere shady.
When: Presently.
Notes: Hurrah.
Warnings: Narrative discussion of speciesism and cultural bigotry, overshadowing tones of that nature.

He hears the first query in the morning only vaguely. His employer would no doubt like him to take every job that floats by, no matter how juvenile or absurd, for profit; it's a shame that the thing his newfound success rests on is the very same thing that picks through contract jobs with such discerning taste. Severus has no interest in mass production, or diluting the quality of his work to increase the quantity of it. So it's only when the second query reaches him that he actually pays it any mind.

In the evening, he's working in the basement room of the shop complex that passes for his office, too engrossed in reading to mind the time.

Comments

[rhinemaid]

Conversely, it's a new concern for Ilde - she'd worried about money when she was still living in Italy, but it was an abstract concern that came out of being prone to worrying on principle and with the awareness that her father's reliability was hit or miss. She grew up in the lap of luxury, and while she'd carefully educated herself, she'd never been in the position of having to ask how much something cost. It trips her up here and there, now, but in the grand scheme of things she's still doing well enough that she'll save her tantrums (...knifings) for everything else.

There's a lot of everything else. When there's one less thing to worry about, thank fuck for that.

"Thank you." She's courteous, not embarrassingly grateful, and more or less satisfied with this meeting; it's a lot more than she expected to come of it when she contacted the shop in the first place. "Do you need anything other than my blood, from me?"

[inkdamage]

"Your signature." This is hardly legally binding, but Severus likes to keep records; he finds it helps things move smoothly and, with any transaction for a service, it's best to have something besides a verbal agreement. Even a simple one. He sketches out the details, the timeline (only a few days) and then passes it to Ilde to read and mark.

[rhinemaid]

She does take the time to read it first, less because she suspects him of anything and more because it's simply good sense to do so; even if it isn't legally binding, it's a good idea to know what you're signing your name to at any given time. Records and lists make her oddly comfortable, like nailing down something that otherwise feels vague and ephemeral. (Reality. It's not supposed to, she thinks.)

She signs.

[inkdamage]

While she's reading, Severus pulls out another sheet of paper and writes out a few lines - book titles, and their authors. When she's done, he trades her. "I cannot vouch for the accuracy of those pertaining to any reality, much less your specific one, but it should be a start." As he speaks, he duplicates the record, so that she can keep a copy, and an envelope floats over to him from the other side of his desk. "I imagine they'll be offensive, as most published studies are conducted by humans. However it would be unwise to not exploit the resources available to you; multiversal libraries are a vein of knowledge most people will never be exposed to."

With that sorted, he stands. "I'll need to draw your blood, and then that will be all for today."

[rhinemaid]

Well. She isn't expecting that, and there's a split second of genuine surprise (then it's gone, because she doesn't care to be examined) as she accepts the list he offers and scans the titles briefly before tucking it, neatly, into her bag. It puts an interesting spin on the rest of their interaction, though she doesn't immediately decide what that is.

"Thank you," she repeats, simply; she'll look into these. Something has to be useful, and it is somewhere to start, which is more than she had half an hour ago. Prior to Prometheus, any number of fruitless visits to the doctor have prepared her for blood tests and the like and she turns her arm up like it's almost habit, thinking in passing that at some point soon she's going to stop doing things that require her to bleed so frequently.

[inkdamage]

Nothing irritates him more than ignorance. While there is no universe in which he is a nice teacher, it remains a compulsion, brittle as it may be.

So he takes the samples he needs, and they both get on with their day.