Wick wasn't really fond of the hospital, but it was a place he hadn't fully explored it yet, and he'd only lose interest once he knew exatly what went on in this place.At the moment, the small fae was exploring the office of a certain doctor,... he didn't really care whose office it was. He was a little curious about them, though - the whole place had the curious aura of some kind of magic, tingeing everything in the room just from constant exposure.

His wings sparked into life, carrying Wick onto the desk, where he could poke around some more. "What have we here..." he mumured to himself, folding his wings to his back and meandering across the desk towards- well, he wasn't sure what it was, but it was giving off an odd, peaceful feeling that was drawing him to it out of sheer curiosity. "Weird..."

It was a pearly, spiraling thing about two feet long and an inch in diameter at the base that ended in a sharp point that could probably pierce steel if used with enough force. Such a pretty thing, and such an odd thing to be sitting on a doctor's desk, next to his pens and papers.

And speaking of the doctor, here is the man himself.

It's funny, but seeing him and the horn--narwhal tusk, my foot--together gives one a sense that they belong together... but it's not quite right. There's a human quality that the real 'owner' of that horn shouldn't have, even if the coloring of this particular human is so very complimentary.

Of course he didn't see Wick, and he sat down at his desk without looking up from the chart in hand.

Sigh.

Wick moved to hide once the man came into the room, but once it became apparent that his invisibility was holding, he came back out. He walked around the horn, in a slow circle. He poked it, as if to test its solidity. Then he looked at Alan,... and then at the horn,... and then at Alan again. He gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

What's a unicorn horn doing in a hospital?... More importantly, why's this guy have it? He's got the same sort of... sense... as the horn, but he's human...

Rather than just thinking it over, Wick decided there wouldn't be any harm in asking. It wasn't often he'd just appear in front of people... but this man seemed more than nice enough for Wick to risk it. The small fae snapped his fingers (an unnecessary gesture) as he removed the glamour that was concealing him.

"Hi," he said cheerily.

Alan heard Wick.

That said, it was a beat or two before he actually looked up to see who had greeted him. The good doctor was just a little bit absorbed in the chart in front of him--for one Angie Samson, age eight. She had leukemia, and it wasn't responding to treatments--to pay attention to any visitors.

He looked up, finally, and blinked.

And said nothing, just looked at Wick with those limpid blue eyes--they almost seem like they should be glowing, but of course that's silly--for a moment.

"Hello."

Oh, good. No sudden attacks - Wick had wondered, briefly, if the clipboard might be used as a weapon, but nothing happened. So, he smiled. He pointed to the unicorn horn and asked simply, "What's that?"
It wasn't like he didn't know, but he wanted to hear the man's explanation for it. It was a particularly strange thing to find in a hospital. It was a particularly strange thing to find anywhere, really.

Alan's normal explanation is that it's a narwhal tusk. Somehow he doubts that a faery would believe that, all things considered.

"Why do you ask?" he responded warily, laying the clipboard down and watching Wick, unblinkingly. The effect was rather unnerving, with that too-pale-for-a-human face and hair, and the deep blue eyes...

And Alan had no idea of it, either.

"'Cause I want to know. Why else would I ask?" he replied, looking innocently at the man. Suddenly deciding that an introduction might get him to lighten up, Wick offered to shake hands, grinning, and said, "By the way, I'm Wick. Who're you?"

Looking a little confused, Alan extended his hand and took Wick's between two fingers, shaking the faery's arm gently and solemnly.

"I'm Dr. Gardinier... Alan. If you like." He let go of Wick's tiny hand and rubbed a temple.

"It's the horn of a unicorn stallion." Pause. "I didn't kill him, either."

"Hi, Alan," Wick said brightly. He whirred slowly around the horn, occasionally reaching out to touch the funny thing. "I never said you killed it. Were'd you get it from, though, if you didn't? They don't just sell these down at the local supermarket 'r anything,... how'd you get this one?"

"Him," Alan corrected. He seemed oddly touchy about insisting that the unicorn had not been an 'it' but a 'him.'

"It was my father's."

He didn't kill the unicorn, either.

"I don't get it," Wick shook his head, frowning. He flitted over and managed to bob upside-down in the air for a moment before turning right-side-up. "Where'd he get this horn from then? I haven't seen any unicorns since forever. Not here, anyway. Did he get the horn from someplace far away?"

Alan shrugged.

"He never told me where he got it." That was true. He hadn't had to, you see. Alan had known, because his father had told him a lot of other things.

He looked a little wistful. "I've never seen a unicorn at all." Despite looking like one, only humanoid.

"Funny. You and that thing-" he pointed to the horn, looking at Alan, "-Feel kinda the same."

He shrugged. "Anyway, I was just curious. I saw a unicorn,.. I don't know if it's still there, because it was a while ago, but it was in a petting zoo. Haven't seen one for years and years now, though. Maybe in the woods somewhere, but they're so rare now."

"Yes." Very rare. Most of them are dead, driven out of their homes, or locked away in some human's zoo. Half the time, the humans don't even really realize that they're unicorns.

Humans are good at denial, you know.

"... what do you mean, feel the same?"

He frowned, biting his lip as he tried to say it.
"You've got the same,..." Wick paused. He'd never liked the word very much, but it seemed to be the right one, "...The same sort of aura, I guess. Like, peaceful. Something like that. I can't explain very well."

"How strange."

Not that strange, when you think about it, but Alan's never really thought about the effects that his father and his father's legacy would have left on him. He doesn't even think about his coloring much.

Pause.

"So, um... why are you in my office, anyway?"

"Mm,... just because," he shrugged, smiling innocently and hovering about a foot above the desk. "Just because I can be, mostly. Having a look around. You know. Stuff. 'Cause I'm bored."

He landed on Alan's clipboard. "What's this?" he asked, nudging the papers.

Alan looked sad and tired. Don't we just love reminders about awful things that can't be changed?

"It's a chart. For a little girl. Information on her progress, what drugs we're giving her... You know. So that we don't do something stupid and make her even sicker."

That, unfortunately, wasn't very likely.

Actually it was a copy. The original was still hanging from her bed, so that any nurse or other doctor could see what was being done, and wouldn't do something that would end with the hospital getting sued.

"Oh, is she sick? That's too bad. D'you know her?" Wick asked. It seemed a funny question to ask, but what he meant was, did Alan know her outside of the hospital, and had he known her before she'd gotten sick. "Is she sad? You look sad."
My, Wick could be obnoxiously curious sometimes.

"She's dying," he answered. And as far as he was concerned, that was really the only answer he needed to give to all of the questions. "She's eight."

He really hated it when there wasn't anything that he and the other doctors could do. Sometimes, he managed to pull of what others called a miracle cure, but just as often, he lost a patient.

He really hated it when the patient was a child, and he almost never treated any grownups.

He gave an, "Oh," in a very tiny voice - even for him.
Being nearly a hundred years old, Wick has seen some very sad things. You'd never guess it, with the way he acts, but you don't live to be that old and remain oblivious to your surroundings.
"No wonder you look sad, then." Wick said, his voice almost back to normal volume. "Can I try and cheer you up?"

"Um, sure, I guess so."

Alan doesn't particularly like to be depressed, you know. And if he's too depressed about Angie, he'll be too depressed to do any good at all to any of his other patients. (That's how he reminds himself to stop brooding over the really little ones, though it doesn't always work.)

"Okay. Let's play a game," Wick grinned brightly. He hovered close to the doctor's face, frowning thoughtfully. "We can playyyy... tag!"
With the last word, he darted forwards and tapped Alan's nose, then darted away to the other side of the room. "You're it! Can't catch me!"

Alan blinked, shook his head, and chuckled.

"You're crazy," he informed Wick, but he got up and looked as if he might actually try to chase Wick around his office. (Hey, there's nothing wrong with a game, is there? Even if it's a rather wild game, and it's likely to end up with something getting knocked over...)

"Can't catch meeee!" he teased, ignoring the 'crazy' comment. He was called a lot of things. "You've gotta move faster than that!"
He flew in circles around Alan, swooping in and out of arm's reach - or his perception of it, anyway. Every so often he would speed past his face, just to startle and tease the man.

Alan's not so good at this game when he's playing with people his own size, you know. He can run, sure, but he can't catch and his endurance is somewhat lower than he'd like it to be.

But he was laughing anyway, so Wick was fulfilling his objective.

He made a snatch at Wick's small body on one of the dives in at his face.

...And he managed to catch Wick, but unfortunately, the small fae was almost past him so he could only have grabbed onto his wings. Wick's wings were very sensitive, and had always been something of a weak spot for him. When they were grasped, they immediately stopped moving. He grimaced in pain, sucking in a deep breath of air, and then shrieking "Let go!"

Alan immediately let go, looking upset.

"I'm so sorry," he exclaimed. "Did I damage them?"

There's got to be something he can do to fix it, right?

The cheering up doesn't seem to be working anymore. Pity, that.

Wick didn't reply right away, drifting in a somewhat rapid downwards spiral to the floor. He sat there for a little while, arms wrapped tightly around himself as he waited for his wings to stop hurting. After a few moments, he was able to relax a little.

"No,... I d-don't think it's anything that'll last," he said, risking a glance back at his wings and wincing, "Th-they're,... they're just a little bent. They'll straighten out soon..."
He gave them an experimental flick, flinching as one of the wings was unfolded to a normal position. He had to bite his lip, but he managed to get airborne again. His flying was somewhat lopsided, and he had a tendency to turn in circles, but otherwise everything seemed functional. "I think they'll straighten out..." he said again.

Alan held out his hand, palm up, towards Wick.

"Let me see?" He is, after all, a doctor. One would hope that he could do something about the damage that he's afraid he's done.

"I'll be very careful..."

He wouldn't want to hurt the little guy even more than he has already. That would be absolutely awful, and he'd feel utterly miserable.

Wick bit his lip, then said slowly, "O-okay,... but only if you're careful..." He bobbed slowly over to Alan, and landed on his hand. He sat down, unsure that he'd be able to properly catch himself if he fell off. "They're just kinda bent,...n-nothing serious..."
He didn't want to make Alan feel guilty about it. Wick had been the one who'd suggested the game, and he'd been trying to cheer up the doctor. Couldn't let this ruin his attempt.

"Very, very careful," Alan agreed, running one finger along the inside of one of the wings. His eyes went a little unfocused, as if he was thinking very hard, and he rolled his shoulders, as if they hurt a little bit.

Remember how he felt Teague's hangover? He doesn't have direct correlations to Wick's wings, so the ghost of the pain he would normally feel hovers in his shoulders and upper back instead.

And very, very, very carefully, he took one wing between his fingers and smoothed it out.

Wick didn't feel the pain increase or decrease as Alan touched his wing, but it started to feel better immediately after he finished smoothing it out. "Ah... that's more like it," he sighed, flickering the mended wing to test it. All seemed in order. "Thanks."

So Alan did the rest of them.

And, perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, he felt much better doing this than he had even playing the game of tag. Alan absolutely adores helping people; it's one of the things he inherited from his father.

"Better now?"

"Lots better," Wick nodded, then corrrected himself, "All better."

He lifted himself into the air - yep, all fixed - and grinned at Alan, taking a quick spin around his head before landing on it. "D'you ever fix a fae's wings before?" he asked curiously.

He shook his head.

"No. I've never met a fae before."

But he always fixes people. (And animals, too.) He was the kind of little boy who went around fixing birds's wings and bandaging puppies. It's just what he does.

"Oh. 'Kay. Just wondering. 'Cause you're really good at it," he said earnestly, meaning it more as a fact than as a compliment. He rolled off his perch on Alan's head, and hung in the air in front of him.
"Wanna play tag some more?" he asked.

Alan smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'd rather not take the chance on damaging your wings permanently, if I grabbed them again. I wouldn't want to ground you."

He's always wondered what it was like to fly. It must be very exciting, he imagines. But he's absolutely terrified of airplanes, for some odd reason, and he can't imagine getting in one.

"Aw, phooey. It was fun," he said, grinning. "Well - I cheered you up, right?"
He looked hopefully at him, pleading for him to say 'yes'.

Alan smiled. "Yes, very much."

Though whether the game or the little mending thing improved his mood more is anyone's guess. Probably the combination.