It was really a beautiful evening - a nice warm-but-not-too-warm temperature, a slight breeze, a scent of late-blooming flowers in the air...

Not that Douglas gave a damn about any of that, mind you.

He was striding along as if he had somewhere important to be and he was already late for it. This was his idea of exercise. As a (former!) doctor, he knew how important it was to keep oneself in shape, or at least a semblance of it. He wouldn't want to die before his time, now would he?
...
Oh, the irony.

He wouldn't want to die after his time either, would he?
Mort, on the other hand, did care about the warm evening and the fragrant air, and he was enjoying it. He was sitting on the curb as Douglas went past, and while he did not say hello, he gave a sort of halfhearted wave.
He had a few illusions on him, but he was blissfully ignorant; he had no idea that drawing (former) Dr. Kael's attention might be a dangerous thing for him to do.

He returned the wave, but without making eye contact. A few moments later, when he was a few steps beyond Mort, he stopped so fast one would have sworn the heels of his shoes would have left skid marks on the concrete. He turned around and walked back, standing over Mort and looking him up and down. He could detect the shimmer of illusions,... and after peering suspiciously at the boy for a few moments, something akin to glee lit his eyes.

"You're fae, aren't you. How interesting..."

"I'm sorry, but no." he replied politely, thinking that he shouldn't wave at people around here, a lot of them were crazy. "Maybe I look like someone else you know?"

Douglas looked slightly confused for a moment. But he was certain that he'd been right...

"No, I don't think so."

He muttered a spell, and accompanied it with a complicated-looking finger movement. The spell was intended to remove the glamours cast on Mort. Douglas narrowed his eyes at what he was able to reveal. He reached over and gave one of Mort's antennae a flick.
"What do you call that, then?"

"That's my hair, sir." he smiled a faintly agitated little smile and stood up. "A-and it's late, and I'd better be getting home. Faye's a g-girl's name, mister, and I'm not a girl..."
He started to back away, looking nervous. The man was obviously crazy--he'd probably murdered his girlfriend Faye or something, and was hallucinating all over the place now.

"Stop right there," Douglas said sternly. "I'm not finished."

And.. yes, yet another variation on the spell used to control Petrov.
"I think I'll have you come with me. This way, now." He beckoned to Mort.This was his second interesting specimen in less thn a week . What luck. Most fae weren't so foolish as to let themselves be caught,... but then, most fae are aware of what they are.

Mort was completely confused as to why he was obeying the crazy guy's orders instead of running away like he really wanted to do. Unlike Bo, he didn't even know what was going on, so he was even more frightened...not that he could do anything about it.

Walking,.. walking,... walking...

All the way to Douglas's house,.. then into the basement. This time, Douglas didn't bother locking his new specimen in the cell before making him go on the table. Everything was still set up from last time. Lock this here, tighten this there... and voila.

Douglas set up his usual shield for when he was dealing with a magical being, and snapped on a pair of gloves. He then removed the spell forcing Mort to do as he was told.
"Now,.. where to start..." he mused. "What do you think, faery?"

"Let me go, let me go!" he thrashed, struggling to get loose from the table, but to no avail. "Oh my god, oh my god, what're you going to do? Oh god, someone help me..."
He started crying even before Douglas picked up a scalpel.

"I wouldn't count on the gods for help, if I were you," Douglas said, poring over a tray of Very Sharp Objects. "And there's no one here but me. But by all means, keep making noise if it pleases you. No sounds escape this room. And as for what I'm going to do? Take a few samples from you,... then probably let you go. If you behave."

Suddenly, lightning lashed out to fizzle against the inside of the shields. Mort cried out and tried to cower back as if Douglas had done it, but it had been him. Shaken into silence for a moment, he soon started crying again.
"I didn't do anything, I don't even know who you are, pleeease let me go!"

"I didn't say you'd done anything.Though you came close a moment ago, I must admit," Douglas smirked at Mort. "You're like a human lightning bug. Well, not human. Fae, really. In any case, I'm curious as to how that works."

He used a simple pair of scissors to cut away Mort's shirt, then dropped the pieces of fabric in a small safe-disposal bin under the table. He stepped back and looked him over again, murmuring to himself, "Should I start with the antennae, or maybe go in under the ribs..."

"Under the--" he squeaked and tried to curl up, though he only ended up chafing his wrists. He was in full-blown hysterics by this point, sobbing convulsively, his eyes red and puffed up.

"My, you are a noisy one. I haven't even done anything yet," Douglas said, amused. He went around to Mort's head and began probing around his antennae with his fingertips."Could just pull it out by the roots, but that would damage it,... no,... best to cut it out."

He leaned over and picked a scalpel off the tray. Holding the antenna straight with one hand, he swiftly sliced through it and pulled it away. "Hm. Still in good shape. Wonderful."

Interestingly enough, Mort didn't react to that. At all. He continued whimpering in anticipation of whatever Douglas had meant by 'under the ribs'.

He was mildly surprised that cutting off an antenna hadn't hurt the boy, but he shrugged it off, and went ito the next room to place the antenna with the rest of his collection of pieces of magical beings.

When he came back, he pored over his tray of instruments for a while before selecting one. He hovered over Mort for a few minutes, tracing shapes in he air an inch or so above the boy's skin and muttering to himself. He didn't see fit to explain to Mort what he was about to do.
"This way, I think," he murmured at last, and began drawing the scalpel sharply along from the lower edge of Mort's ribcage. After some careful work, he lifted away a perfect square of skin.

Mort shrieked and wriggled, and generally made things difficult for Douglas. Can you blame him? He was captive, in pain, and he didn't know what was going on. Oh yes, and lighting battered Douglas' sheilds again, and again Mort reacted as if it was foreign.

"You really have to stop doing that," Douglas said, as the fit of lightning wore out. "It's obnoxious, and I'm trying to work. Making this as quick and clean-" note he didn't say painless "-as possible. I'm sure you don't want to annoy me."

He observed the bloody patch where he'd taken the skin from, thinking hard. It was getting late - did he really want to start something complicated at this hour...?
"I'll let you decide, faery. Should I open you up now, or should I leave you until morning?"

"Not doing anything..." he sobbed, closing his eyes, shutting out Douglas' face. "Please don't open me up..."

"Hm, yes,..I won't want to hear your whining all night. I think we'll get this done now."

And he set to work. The operaton (which is what he was doing) didn't take very long, as operations go - he was only interested in seeing if, internally, this faery appeared any different than a human. Once he'd finished, and had stitched Mort closed, he released the restraints and stepped back. He had said he'd let Mort go if he behaved, after all. "I think that's everything. I believe I've finished with you."

He tumbled off the table and onto the floor, and lay crumpled for a bit, dazed and hurt (there aren't many who can just hit the ground running after having their insides examined by way of surgery). Finally, he staggered to his feet and made for the stairs.

-------
It was late by this time, but not so late as to keep Violet from taking a walk. It was imprudent, at the least, to be out after dark,.. but sometimes, Violet just really didn't care.
She strolled aimlessly down the sidewalk, like a human shadow with her dark jeans and the black t-shirt that had been worn so often it had faded to grey. Her hair was up in its usual ponytail, and the usual stray strands had been pulled back from her face with bobby pins. It probably wouldn't be long before she was going to be brushing those extra strands off her face. Besides that that was a nervous tic of hers, she was soon going to have a good reason to be nervous...

Mort stumbled out in front of her, with a suddenness worthy of a scary movie, and clung to her arm.
"Help...please...ow."
He really looked a mess, his cut-off antenna oozing blood, the whole one flopping limply forward, no shirt, his abdomen stitched up, crying.

Violet recoiled, nearly letting out a shriek (also nearly hitting him).
"I - I," she stuttered, still thrown off by the suddenness with which he'd appeared. She paused, took a breath.... then tried again. "I'm sorry- you just startled me."
She moved towards Mort, taking back the distance that she'd put between them by flinching away.
"My god,... you poor guy, you're a mess..," she said softly. "How can I help?"

When she moved away, he fell, scraping his hands on the pavement.
"I...I dunno, I j-just...I don't wanna go home, my sister will kill me...there was this guy, he cut me open, what if I die? I don't wanna die."

"You're not going to die..." Violet said calmly, crouching down on the ground in front of him. "Okay? Trust me, you'll be alright."

She chewed on her lip for a moment, not sure what to do with him. Besides the blood coming from that thing poking out of his head, and the stitches- which appeared quite professonally done - , physically, he looked alright. He seemed more in need of reassurance than medical attention.

She reached out and let her hand rest on his shoulder.
"How about you come with me, and I'll take you somewhere safe?" she offered, speaking to him as she would a child. "How does that sound?"

He grabbed her hand and held onto it for dear life, struggling to his feet. He stared into her eyes a moment, searchingly, looking for the slightest bit of malice...finding none.
"Y-yes, please."

"Okay," Violet nodded, hesitantly offering a smile. "C'mon, then. Are you alright to walk, or,- well, what I mean is, lean on me if you need to. I'm Violet, by the way. What's your name?"
She began slowly leading him in the direction of the university - there was nowhere else to take him but back to the dorm with her, since he didn't want to go home.

He staggered and leaned on her occaisionally, but he was more frightened than he was hurt (no one can accuse Douglas of being a bad doctor...merely unethical). Even when he was walking steadily on his own, he held on to Violet's hand.
"Mortimer. N-nice to meet you, Violet."

She didn't try to make him let go of her hand - instead, she held his hand just as tightly as he held hers. It occurred to her that Dave probably wouldn't be pleased to see this, but it didn't matter. It wasn't as if she was doing anything wrong. She was only helping.

"Same to you,..." Violet replied. After a while of walking in silence, she let her gaze rove to his still-intact antenna, and the stub of the severed one. "So,... what happened to you...?"

"I was sitting and minding my own business," Mort began, his voice steadier than it had been. "And this weirdo came up to me and started calling me Faye...fae. He made me follow him...with...with his voice, he just told me to come and I did. He kept calling me fae and faery and stuff. He took a piece of my hair and some skin and then he...he opened me up t-to look and my insides. I d-didn't like that part."

"That's horrible..."
She shivered. It sounded like some kind of crazy scientist was running amok. A crazy innish scientist.
"Are you -... a faery, then?" Violet asked finally. "Those things poking up off your head certainly aren't hair."

"What things poking off my head? I'm not a faery...faeries don't exist." he sounded uncertain. After all, Darcy could turn into a wolf. "I'm just a person."

"Um, no, I'm fairly certain they exist. I'm not sure if you are one, but you're definitely something." She looked at his antenna. It took quite a lot to surprise her, now that she knew how many impossible things were actually possible. "I'll show you once we get home,... or if we find a mirror before then. They look like those things that bugs have on their heads, whatever they're called. Feelers,or.. antennae. That's it."

"I have feelers?" he raised his free hand to his head, his fingers searching through his hair until they found the one antenna, and then the bloody stump of the other. His eyes went wide, his face went pale, and he cried out, stumbling against Violet. It hurt!
"Oh my g-god, he c-c-cut something off..."

"Whoa, careful-" she caught him "- ...I noticed. I hope for your sake it grows back."
Though, if it didn't, he couldn't miss it very much, seeing as he'd only just noticed it had been there.
"I'm guessing you didn't know you had them," she said gently.

"N-no, I n-never felt anything before..." with a conscious effort, he loosened his grip on her hand. He didn't want to cut off the circulation. "I...wow. I can...hear things, smell things...sorta, through the other one. It's weird."

She flexed her fingers. "And you never noticed that before? That's strange. Neat. But strange."
She pulled him carefully along, trying to make sure he kept moving.

"Nope. And I definitely couldn't see them. Hey, look--" the whole antenna twitched slightly. "Is it moving? Ahhh, the other one really hurts. I didn't even feel it when he cut it off, either."