Man, I've known you for like...twenty minutes and I can alreaady tell you are the exact opposite of lazy. Don't even worry about that.
The way you're describing things is interesting, because we don't really have top and under cities where I'm from, not literally speaking... [ But she's paying attention to more than that; the way he leans on the crutch, the way he breathes and coughs, even what he's talking about with slow-acting poison. Not like that's uncommon in her world either, even if they don't call it the same thing. It sounds like a toxic air bloom, and if that's the case, there are therapies for that too. Not that she's intimately familiar with them all, but it's something. ] It's really not boring to me. I'm not a medical student, no, but I am an engineeering student, and we're both built to solve complex problems.
[ Her eyes narrow when he mentions doctors looking at his leg and guessing where he was born, or the possibility of her admonishing him for not finding a cure. ] What's wrong with your leg? It's there, it functions more or less as intended. And clearly you've got an aid device that works. That'd be like people looking at my arms and deciding I can't lift anything.
[ Which, uh...is pretty clearly not the case. Though she does have metal gauntlets from fingertips to her elbows like slim-fitted opera gloves, above that is muscle definition borne of some decently regular physical labor. ] What about chelation therapy? Like a chemical that could bind to the poison in your body, and let you metabolize it out?
Re: he makes me so sad
The way you're describing things is interesting, because we don't really have top and under cities where I'm from, not literally speaking... [ But she's paying attention to more than that; the way he leans on the crutch, the way he breathes and coughs, even what he's talking about with slow-acting poison. Not like that's uncommon in her world either, even if they don't call it the same thing. It sounds like a toxic air bloom, and if that's the case, there are therapies for that too. Not that she's intimately familiar with them all, but it's something. ] It's really not boring to me. I'm not a medical student, no, but I am an engineeering student, and we're both built to solve complex problems.
[ Her eyes narrow when he mentions doctors looking at his leg and guessing where he was born, or the possibility of her admonishing him for not finding a cure. ] What's wrong with your leg? It's there, it functions more or less as intended. And clearly you've got an aid device that works. That'd be like people looking at my arms and deciding I can't lift anything.
[ Which, uh...is pretty clearly not the case. Though she does have metal gauntlets from fingertips to her elbows like slim-fitted opera gloves, above that is muscle definition borne of some decently regular physical labor. ] What about chelation therapy? Like a chemical that could bind to the poison in your body, and let you metabolize it out?