There's No Place Like Home [Mikemon/Cas]

"... And you haven't been able to move this wing at all since you managed to give that dog the slip?"

"That's right - what do you think?"

It wouldn't just be the light that Cassandra would sense, but a full and calm conversation between patient and doctor. At the top of a wooden chair - one that the doctor had borrowed from the waiting room - Mikemon stood over the edge of the steel table. One paw carefully ran over the top of a red wing, while his other held a red crystal, one he peered through to examine the injured wing underneath. The patient himself was a Hawkmon (X), tense but calmly sitting on the table, keeping his nervous eyes on the floor in front of him, as instructed.

"You're lucky." As the door opened, the Mikemon's hand rested over that wing, dark stitches beginning to flow out from his paw - both digging through the feathers as well as into the wing itself. "Had you consulted a normal healer, they would have just mended the injury. You would have never been able to fly - hm?" The cat's ear twitched, hearing the door open. Keeping his focus primarily on the injury, he gave a glance. If it hadn't been for Cloak and Dagger, well, the doctor would have assumed the Witchmon was another Digimon in line.

As it was, though, the Mikemon froze, slowly coming to a realization. "... So this is... your office, huh." The cat sighed. He couldn't explain much as it was, but he tried to at least 'fess up'! "Careful upstairs, there's a few Digimon resting on the futon, and a pot of tea's already on. Well, the water, anyway." Even as the cat tried to smooth things over, the Hawkmon tilted his head.

"... Er. Do Witchmon dresses usually get cut that short?"

Well... shoot. Cassandra wasn't actively throwing him out, but the look in her eyes - a stark red as opposed to a simple blue - were not those of a welcoming house guest. For the moment, though, the Mikemon couldn't help it one way or another: his focus remained almost solely on the Hawkmon's wings, his paw carefully planted and arched over the top. Likewise, the Hawkmon remained very still, lightly clicking his beak as he felt those stitches slip within.

Thankfully, Cassandra seemed to go along with the situation well enough. So long as her most personal belongings were protected, she seemed open to these impromptu patients, though perhaps a little less patient than she would have been on average. Case in point, that 'smirking snarl' quickly put the Hawkmon right back on edge, looking away and shuddering slightly as he chose to focus on a single part of the wall. "... Fair point..."

"Hawk here's the last in line. I'll be up with him upstairs in a few, just so I can explain what's going on." The Mikemon seemed like the calmest one around...

---

... And as Cassandra would make her way to the top of the stairs, well, it would be about how the doctor described it. The room, though relatively kept in order, was a bit disheveled in places due to the doctor and other small creatures needing to make use of it. A dining room table had taken permanent residence in the kitchen, for example, and several hot pads were set in line, a few feet away from the stovetop. The kettle was just a minute or so away from its high-pitched whistle.

Should the veterinarian take a glance around, she'd see two Digimon resting on her futon: a Gatomon, head leaned back and a damp towel dressed over her forehead, and a Hagurumon (X), with what looked like a fresh weld just over its right eye. There were signs that others had passed through, based on small bits of fur in the carpet and whatnot, but everything seemed remotely calm. The TV buzzed in the background at minimum volume, which was something that helped the cat in the room settle.

A few minutes later, the doctor himself would come up the stairs, a fresh bandage dressed over the Hawkmon's wing.

"... Heh, it already moves."

"Yeah, but leave it alone for now. Don't think you should be lying down on it, but find a place to perch, alright?" That went well enough: taking a deep breath, the doctor resigned to that chair in the kitchen, closing his eyes as he took a moment to think.

Damn... if I had a choice...

Well, the cat knew that he had a lot to answer for. With the other three Digimon resting - thankfully relatively quietly - the Mikemon at least had a moment to piece together his response. At this point, the cat couldn't just slip away without an explanation. He had intended to leave a note to explain why the other Digimon were there - but for Cassandra to come home at this time?

It was understandably a bit awkward. Not a word was shared between the Doctor and Cloak nor Dagger, the tired Digimon seemingly uninterested in such an extended explanation. It wasn't until Cassandra came back, in decidedly more human attire, that the feline pulled himself up to a chair on the island. He gave a brief glance to the snoozing twins, before his ear twitched at the question.

Why was he here?

"Well, to be honest, I've joined up with a group of tamers and their Digimon who are trying to make a research team. I figured they could use someone with a bit of hands-on experience so they don't get themselves put too deep into something they can't get out of - and heck, it sounded fun." From there, he gave a sigh.

"So I've been a roommate to one of 'em - but on the way back, a few days ago, I noticed quite a large data signal at the back of your place. A back door, with a bell set up - apparently a Gazimon told them a doctor would be here who knew what Digimon were. But the 'doctor' was nowhere to be seen. So, um..."

Right. The awkward part. He raised a paw, dark 'lines' of energy sparking from his hands. "I used my stitches to pick your lock, so I could get them inside before they were seen. That was... two days ago, I think?"

"You have no reason to apologize. The Digital World is quite a dangerous place, and quite frankly, I'm just glad to see you're alright." He'd have to ask more about that unfortunate accident, but right now he was restricted to both whispers and the sight of Cas' two twins, already trying to doze off for the night. Just what had happened ever since that encounter with the Digmon?

Well, if Cas was taking tea to stay up, the cat would partake as well. Assuming he'd be allowed, the cat would move to take his own cup, giving a nod to the other tamer. "If at all possible, though, I'd like permission to drop by here if I see a few patients in line. Some of our ailments are a bit 'unique'." He spoke of concern for the others in the room - specifically the Gatomon, whose fever he was desparately trying to break.

But perhaps that caveat was unnecessary - the D-Reaper? The feline's hand twitched around that cup, ear flicking as if Cassandra had just spoken of a forbidden word. More clearly, he would notice Cassandra's abnormal eyes, and even a slightly different color of her skin. "... Fuck, you too?" Shaking his head, the cat mulled it over: where to even begin? Any small explanation wasn't going to cut it, if Cas was already infected.

"... In its most basic sense, the D-Reaper is a vaccine program that applies to the Digital World itself. When higher level Digimon fight - Mega and Super Mega - their attacks can press back at the fabric of our data-based world. Left unchecked, the fabric would eventually tear, and we'd be trapped in a world of random chaos. The D-Reaper spawns wherever that corruption is, in the form of a red lichen, and eliminates it, leaving a burning red paste behind."

He paused, letting that settle in. "Until recently, that's all we knew. But now there's evidence of the D-Reaper possessing a will of some kind - a will that's managed to warp quite a few minds, already."

"Trust me, I only need an hour on some of your news networks to know just how bad your world can be." Giving a light shudder at that thought, the Mikemon graciously accepted the untouched cup of tea, giving a slight tip in Cas's direction before taking a sip. His preference was coffee, and by comparison the feel of even this sort of tea was quite 'light' to the Mikemon - though he was far from voicing a complaint over a mere preference.

Cas's next idea was an interesting one: a medical knowledge exchange? He considered the idea, knowing full well that a language barrier would come up by both ends - but the idea struck home with him. "I wouldn't mind having you on-hand a day a week in my clinic to help out - or however that ends up being. Whatever you have to offer, I'll be more than willing to take you up on."

After all, they were already talking about the D-Reaper. "Hm - you're one of the first I've seen to so accurately put it, but yes. The D-Reaper has evolved to a point where certain 'nests' are exceeding their function. We believe the strain originated from the Dark Area, though our more cautious scientists warn it may have been like this for ages - and some form of suppression for it has more recently weakened. If the latter is the case, we could expect to see an explosive outbreak of the same over the next month or so."

As he listened to Cas's explanation further, the cat ended up giving a nod. A corrupt tamer? "On attacking a D-Reaper's nest in the Dark Area, several members of the response team managed to fall under the D-Reaper's control. Its... upsetting, but not surprising, that one who crossed paths with it eventually crossed paths for you. And... a Witchmon? You know what, I'm curious - you were wearing a black outfit when you came in, right?"

He sighed, a small smirk at the edge of his lip. "Good, good... Wicked's still alive, then. Oh, sorry - just glad she didn't get caught up in the last mess." Giving a light cough at that, he took a light sip of his tea, before hearing a groan in the background:

"Wa... ter..."

"Tch, sorry." He gave a call over his shoulder: "I'll be right there, Gato!" He pulled himself from the chair, moving to tend to his patient.

Wicked didn't have the energy to deal with Cloak's condition? "Knowing her, its entirely possible she simply didn't have the patience. Ah, careful there - one hand, use the straw." The cat's attention, briefly split, was now entirely on his impromptu patient's bedside care. The Gatomon managed to sit up just enough to take a sizeable drink, before resting right back down on the futon. Brushing a knuckle against the back of her forehead, the Mikemon would sigh, before returning to the table.

"Well... the D-Reaper was never known to be an infectious sort at all, until recently." The Mikemon's answer to her mumured inquiry was slow, the feline obviously playing with limited information. "There does seem to be a threshold, though: so long as you're not above it, its not as if the D-Reaper is going to create more of itself inside your frame. So long as you stay clear of any nests, you'll be fine - and the nests, well, those are fairly obvious. Large crimson fields of their red mass, guarded by creatures supported by thick red cables."

That wasn't all, of course: seeing Cas's arm, the feline would carefully reach a hand out to briefly touch it, shaking his head. "That's something we call 'Forced Integration', where a patch of data is forcibly implanted into the target. Off as this seems, the results can definitely be worse than this. I wouldn't worry too much about this condition - so long as its not hurting you in the long term, anyway."

So she should just grin and bear it? The alternatives, at least in the cat's mind, were too invasive to consider! "First lost in the forest, and now this - seems you've been on a streak of bad luck on our end." His tone was apologetic - he'd like to think his world was more hospitable than that, but lately?

"We hope to find an answer for that mess, sooner rather than later. Tch..."

"The situation is more common between Digimon," Mikemon took a sip of his tea, "but you're not the first human to suffer from this affliction."

That aside, Cas's concerns were quite reasonable, and very forward considering her predicament. More than herself, she wanted Cloak's form purified as soon as possible, in part for his own comfort and in part for use of that form. "Hm." The cat gave a sigh, before giving a short nod: "The usual problem with purifying D-Reaper data is its 'closeness' to the data of the host. But if the problem is isolated to an armor egg, that's relatively easy for me to purge since I'll be able to use a much stronger agent to do it."

In that sense, he already had the capability to handle some aspects of the D-Reaper. Hearing Cassandra's comment about luck, the Mikemon gave a sigh, once more looking out to those impromptu patients. "Maybe, but considering all you've done so far, it still sucks to see you in dire straits like this. As it is, though..."

He took a deep breath. "I know I broke in here to begin with, but if you have patients out back, I would like permission to keep doing this. We can keep it simple: if you see the lights on, call for me. If I respond, nothing to worry about." It was simple enough of a request: "Of course, I'll only use what I need - or even what you leave out for potential patients. In turn, I'll offer you use of my place in Whitewater."