Once he sees them out of Driss's small abode, he sits at the the dining table, his PADD in hand. He sends off a few messages, many in regards to unloading some of the Treman coffee that he dares not try and sell on Astraios in light of the rising tensions involving the now blockaded planet. But also he sends some more inquiries about properties he has viewed. It feels to him as if he is spending money hand over fist when he should be saving. But he has a vehicle now and once he buys a house and perhaps buys or rents a warehouse for the new legitimate import/export enterprise, he can stop spending money and get to earning it for his new family.
Kat Anjar walks towards the Senghor abode. It’s very nice to be out and about after the elongated duty shifts of the past few days. This follow-up exam should have been done at least a week ago, but got put aside for one reason or another, and then pushed to the back of the pile of things to do when the village burned to the ground. Always thorough, Kat had checked all the records she could find with regard to Mr Souleymane Senghor. It was not for her to judge, but it appeared he was rather reckless. In her training and experience, humans seemed to like to tempt fate by doing all manner of dangerous and unnecessary things. Naturally curious, she could understand if they got into trouble when exploring new things. But why they liked to fling themselves from high buildings with just a rope around their ankles, or jump from a flying vessel with just a silk balloon to hold them up, or dive to the depths of the ocean where they could die for lack of oxygen or when decompression sickness could incapacitate them if they rose too quickly… well, the list of stupid things humans did to test their limits would take a number of gigabytes on the hospital computer to record. Her ears flick as she walks along. The spring sun is warm and she finds herself humming… purring… for the first time in days. She arrives at what she thinks is the correct house, checks her PADD once again to be sure, then knocks politely at the door.
Souleymane hears the knock and stands. Her hadn’t been looking out of the windows, so he’d not seen anyone approaching. Moving to the door he opens it and sees … a Caitian? He seems to remember one around when Driss was in the hospital. She is holding a PADD, which gets his attention. Some kind of official visit.
“My sister isn’t home.” he tells her. “And my daughter is off playing somewhere. So if you want Idrissa, try The Cafe. If you want Fukujuso, try the pond, but watch out for the dog. She won’t bite but she might love you to death.” he stops speaking, expecting her to turn and head off to find one of the girls.
Kat opens her mouth to say hello but is forestalled by the man’s listing of other people’s names and locations. She sniffed, glad to hear the dog was not nearby. They often barked at her, even growled, which made things unpleasant. She blinked for a moment, focussing her eyes on the figure in the doorway. “I am looking for Mr Souleymane Senghor,” she said politely, knowing it was him all the same, as he had been brought from the brig to visit a patient of hers some weeks back. “For a follow-up medical visit. I could have contacted you and asked you to come or transport to the MCH, but we like to keep things relaxed, and I often do home visits. I looked after your sister, Idrissa, when she was in the House of Healing on Fleet Captain Toocool’s property…” her voice trailed off at this point, and the expression on her wee cat face changed slightly, as she realized this was the man she had heard about. The Fleet Captain’s… paramour. She blinked again.
He arches his eyebrows when she says she is looking for him and a wants to do follow-up medical exam. Then she mentions his sister and then … Poison’s land that Driss had taken over as part of her own brand of therapy. And her face changes, which only confirms to him what he figured would happen. The rumor mill was a finely oiled machine in Starfleet. “I see you figured out who I am.” his voice rumbles. “And I feel fine so ….” he catches himself a nanosecond before he dismissed the kit and slammed the door in her face so he could get back to worrying about money like a normal being. He blows out a breath. “You want to come in and examine me, don’t you?” it was more statement than question. “Fine … come in, give me my clean bill of health and whatever.” he pulls off his shirt and moves in enough for her to come inside. “I had a sprained ankle and hip, four cracked ribs, three broken ones, plus a dislocated shoulder that I popped back in wrong, so a friend of mine REdislocated it and popped it in right. I got an infection, but that got sorted out.” he explains as he moves further in and stands beside the table he was about to work at. He doesn’t explain what are obviously fresher wounds, to include a bite mark and a few scratches that can’t be more than a couple of days old. “Do you need me to drop my pants to look at my hip?” his voice is dry, a bit sarcastic, but not a bit shy or embarrassed at being half naked in front of a young Caitian … or anyone else. He doesn’t like doctors, and doesn’t trust Starleet. Only Poison … well and maybe that guy sniffing after his twin. And for Po, he knows he should be polite for the sake of their relationship, so he adjusts his tone. “Can I get you some coffee? Tea? Um … milk?” he offers, in obvious afterthought.
Kat follows him with her slitted cat eyes, observing his behaviour without appearance of judgement. Her training in objectively and psychology as well as her own cat nature led to her calm demeanor, and her patience. She had found most humans disliked silence and, if permitted, would fill the air with the sound of their voice nattering away about inconsequential things while ignoring the most pressing issue of their health as though it would just go away. She did not need to refer to her PADD as he listed his injuries, she had read the reports provided by Idrissa Senghor and Hars Darax with reference to Souleymane’s current condition, and she had also searched out and read past reports available to Starfleet, including several visits to the sickbay on DS9 for personal injuries obtained during, the attending doctor had noted in a wry tone, mating. In the dim light as Souley steps back to allow her to enter, she sees scratches on his chest and back as he moves, mottled areas on his skin, and what appears to be a bite mark on a shoulder. Perhaps he still had the same lover then. However the broken bones and dislocated shoulder he was reporting to her had been, so he claimed, obtained on Treman while he was there trading for goods. The last civilian to leave there alive, she imagined. In answer to his questions: “If you could just sit down, I will use my medical tricorder to assess the progress of your healing. I also have a dermal regenerator for those scratches, I advise permitting that, for you do not want to risk infection. I require no beverages at this time, but thank you for offering them, very kind.” She puts her med kit on the table and waits for him to sit down.
Souleymane sat down and watched the Caitian doctor or nurse. “Scan away.” he encourages her. “And the dermal regenerator would be much appreciated. I’ve been disinfecting it with some of the local herbs. Should be pretty clean.” he watches her. “Now, I remember you from when my sister was in your hospital.” he says as she scans. “But I didn’t get your name then, and I think it is just polite to give it to me now.” he never got it. Not then and not now. All business, this one. Both a blessing and a curse.
Kat begins her work, scanning him first with the medical tricorder, noting the state of the broken bones and spending some time to get a clear picture of the dislocated shoulder. Then she picks up the regenerator, carefully working her way around him, until his damaged skin is clean and normal again. She examines the bite mark on his shoulder. It appears to be from a humanoid, but she had noted some of the scratches were shaped in a way that suggested they were from an animal rather than a humanoid hand. The dog he mentioned, perhaps. Obviously untrained. She flicks her ears back in mute disapproval as she works to ensure the beam is correctly aimed. The bite mark slowly disappears. Her paws touching him as she worked have been gentle. Her voice is soft as she says, “You should feel better now.” She moves to her med kit and replaces the devices, and then sits down in a chair near him. “I am sure you dislike hospitals, many do. However, I would strongly urge you to come in soon. We would then be able to use the osteogenic stimulator to assist those broken bones to heal. It would be much advised to take care of these injuries properly so that you do not lose any range of motion in that arm, and so your breath is not impeded by continued pain in the ribcage.” She looks him over again, still assessing, and adds, “I would advise against any lifting or carrying for at least another three weeks without the stimulator. It’s important those ribs are kept in place so they heal correctly.” She reaches to close the medkit with a snap, “If you would like to make an appointment I could be the one to do the treatment, so you don’t have to deal with someone you don’t know.” She rises then, to her short height, not much taller than the seated man, and waits for his reply.
Souleymane watches as she examines him and then suggests he come in ….. and limit his activities. He already knows that mentioning it to Po will result in an argument … one his lover will win .. it’s something that aggravates him, as not even Kattel could convince him to so the things Po has. So he may as well cave …. partially. “I can’t limit my activities and still feed my family.” he insists. “And in any event … I can’t come in to ask for you if I don’t know your name ….” he protests.
Kat tilts her head, “My name is Kat Anjar, Nurse Practitioner, Majel Community Hospital. If you do not wish to limit your activities then I suggest you come in tomorrow for the treatment. Shall we say oh-eight-thirty?” She moves to the door, her paws a slight pitter patter on the uncarpeted floor. She is tempted to advise he open the windows and doors to clear the air of dog smell, but quashes that unprofessional thought. She reaches for the door handle, turning it with just a little difficulty as her paws are not quite made to turn a knob the way a human hand would. Then she turns to look at him, silhouetted by the sun, and adds, “Best train that dog of yours not to jump on people. It could be dangerous.” She nods at the now invisible scratches on his chest and moves away.
Souleymane sighs. “I’ll think about it.” is all he will promise her. He watches her on her way out the door and opens his mouth to tell her the scratches were from a wolf, not a dog, but thinks better of it. That is not exactly a discussion he wants to have with her.
=^=