i'd say the only word worth singing / DAVID

[Lara Archer]

With a quick, quiet breath sucked in, Lara flicked her hand boldly towards the edge of the paper on her little table. It stayed steady, and she let the breath out in a silent sign of satisfaction and relief. Placing the pencil carefully to one side, she lifted the sheet up and examined it carefully. She was pleased with it, actually - drawing was one of the few talents she had, and it had turned out lifelike for all she had had to draw the two cats from the memory of a photograph. Her face stayed expressionless as she reached to put the drawing carefully on her beside table, and her only her mother would have been able to read the contentment in the softness of her hands over the duvet when she smoothed them down, and the lively interest in her eyes.

She'd been in St Mungo's for four days now, recovering from a vicious bout of an infection caught off a plant Samuel had lugged home from the Ministry. The Healers had assured Ruth that she was never in any danger, but they'd been determined to keep Lara in for at least a week or two to insure that the infection had left her system. She knew it was still lurking around but the angry blue rash had gone down, at least, and the nausea had subsided enough for her to eat a heart meal that morning. That was the point at which she'd sent her mother home - Ruth had been at her beside since she came in, and Lara felt terrible about it. She'd insisted Ruth go home and sleep properly, have a shower and change. Since Lara so rarely said anything, let alone gave orders, her mother had complied.

Lara didn't mind the hospital, actually. Her room was light and she liked the quiet undercurrent of people moving up and down the hallway outside her room, sort of like sleeping near a stream. If she'd gone down with something five years ago she'd have been crammed into some horrible noisy ward with sickness all around her, but now thanks to Samuel's money and influence she was in a private room with cheerful yellow curtains and the same Healer every time, which made her much more comfortable. She liked her Healer a lot, though she had yet to string together more than three words in his presence. His name was David and he was so friendly and chatty and kind, Lara couldn't help but relax after four days getting used to him.

It was him she'd drawn the picture for, after he'd got talking to her about his cats Gin and Tonic and shown her the photo. She'd been working on it all day, shading in their fur just right, determined to make him something to show him how grateful she was for how nice he was being to her. Most Healers were kind, obviously, but there was just something so open and warm about David, and Lara was grateful for it.

She reached hastily for the pot of flowers Samuel had brought her as she heard her door creak open, and dragged them to hide the drawing from view as David came in, suddenly embarrassed and unsure about how best to present him with it.

[David Fell]

It was undeniable that working as a Healer was truly kicking David Fell's arse - he hadn't been out to a pub in over a month, had barely engaged in much social activity whatsoever, really, his love life was a total shambles and his main preoccupation in life were his cats - plus, he still hadn't quite figured out how to function as an adult - but he was remarkably cheerful despite it all, because, at the end of the day, he got to help people out, even if the hours were awful and the pay wasn't fantastic and his free time was at the bare minimum. It really was worth it when you got to keel over with laughter at the crazy stories some people came in with, or got someone fighting fit again.

A patient he'd been working with recently had become a particular favourite of his - he got along with the vast majority of patients, and even if he didn't, he didn't really notice anyways. She'd been brought in about four days previous with an ominous-looking blue rash, an infection from a mental plant her step-dad had, for some reason, had at their house. The family was positively loaded, and she got shoved into one of the best rooms they had on offer, with her jaw-droppingly pretty (and yet mildly terrifying) mum by her side the entire time. The girl barely spoke whatsoever, but David didn't mind that at all, because she didn't seem snotty, or anything, and he was rather used to talking without being replied to. He felt deeply sorry for the poor kid being stuck in hospital for the next couple of weeks during summer, and so was trying his utmost best to make sure she enjoyed herself.

The day had started as usual - he'd rolled out of bed with a groan, nearly fell asleep in the shower, nicked himself whilst shaving about four times, tried desperately to decipher his cleanest t-shirt before dragging his Healer robes on over it, nuzzled Gin affectionately, nearly stepped on Paprika and swore on him cheerfully, and had about ten rounds of toast and butter for breakfast before rushing off to the hospital. It was his turn to go grocery shopping that evening and he was positively dreading it. Shops were horrible and filled him with a sense of deep unease. It was the pasta that did it. Or perhaps the tinned tomatoes. Reminding himself to fling himself desperately in the direction of Rupert when he got home and beg for him to take over his duty (he'd make up an excuse about stubbing his toe or something), he'd started the day off with a very bad-tempered woman indeed who called him a very impressive amount of swear-words as he tried to figure out what on earth was wrong with her. The day progressed as such, with him being dragged from this ward to that, occasionally stopping for a coffee-break. The coffee there was disgusting, but David enjoyed hovering around with a coffee cup and nodding at people and looking as though he had a clue what he was doing.

All in all, it was something of a relief when he got the time to check on Lara Archer again. He slipped down onto the second floor - only pausing to greet a fellow Healer, who had her hands in her hair and shrieked "Piss, off, David!" before he could even attempt to strike up a conversation - and found her room easily, swinging into it and saying cheerfully, "Alright, Miss Archer? How's my favourite patient doing, then?" Closing the door behind him, he added conspiratorially: "Don't tell Mrs Adams across the hall that, though. She might get jealous." (Mrs Adams was a very old, very wealthy witch who thought David was a prize idiot and informed him every time he went to check up on her that the reason he didn't have a girlfriend was because he looked as though he hadn't washed himself in a very long time and he wore a permanently vacant expression.) "You're feeling alright though, yeah?" He asked brightly, collapsing onto the chair beside her bed, setting the potion for nausea he'd brought along on the bedside table, and inspecting his notes. He always felt very very cool inspecting his notes. "That dodgy rash of yours is going down, which is excellent. Honestly, you're going to be completely fine," he informed her. "You might as well stay on and keep me company, though. I've got to go shopping today," he said, as he reached out to feel her forehead, very professionally indeed. "Grocery shopping. It's a very big deal. A mission, even. If I cock this up, everyone'll starve for the next week." He shook his head gloomily, taking his hand off of her forehead and reaching for the potion for nausea that he had brought in with him. "Don't know if I can take on that responsibility."

[Lara Archer]

Lara pulled the duvet up higher as David bustled in, eyes round as she watched him collapse dramatically into the chair beside her bed. She really did like him, but he just... took up so much space in a room. In a really nice way, obviously, she never felt like she was being invaded even a little bit. All the same, for somebody as quiet as her to be faced with somebody quite so bubbly and friendly always took a moment or two to adjust to. She blinked up at him as he consulted his notes - although quite why he'd need to look at them before pronouncing that the rash was going down was beyond her, since she was quite sure it had shrunk by at least half... But probably it was a thing Healers had to do. Accepting this conclusion, she leaned back slightly as his hand swam towards her, and followed its progress towards her forehead with a slightly apprehensive expression. His touch was actually not bad - his hands were warmer than her mother's, and a little bit rough, and all in all Lara surprisingly didn't mind them too much at all.

His tone was so gloomy, his demeanour so doleful, that Lara couldn't help a tiny laugh escaping her. He was so dramatic, he always made such a big deal out of all the grown-up things he had to do, that Lara couldn't help finding him funny. He had a very different kind of humour to most of the people at school, who - since the majority were Slytherins - depended on quite a biting sarcastic attitude. It was a novel experience for Lara, and one she was so far enjoying thoroughly. Part of what he'd said caught her attention, though, and as he extended the potion he'd brought towards her, she managed to pipe up with a question.

"Do you live with lots of people?" It was perhaps the longest sentence she'd strung together in his presence yet, but she felt so uncharacteristically comfortable around him that it didn't bother her to speak such a lot - a very rare occurrence. Disentangling her fingers from her blanket, she put her hands up so she could take the potion from him if he intended her to.