Challenge #00171: Ideosyncratic Biology

Prompt: Kurt and/or Sara, or another of the interesting-reactions-to-medications group, meet the infamous Dr. House. (Optional: Dr. McCoy and House in the same room)

It was a discrete, free clinic for mutants. So discrete that you had to know it was there to find it. And that was mostly because of the anti-mutant vitriol regularly flooding the organization’s inbox.

It had been a set of flats in a previous life, but now it held a surgery, two small patient wards, a mutant daycare facility, a tiny examination room, crowded with equipment, and an equally tiny interview/examination room.

The waiting room was a combination of the hallway and the stairs up.

It was always busy.

It was always crowded.

And it was never boring.

Greg was in his element. In rare, free moments, he caught up on every medical journal there was on mutants and their extreme diversity and medical needs. Of course, everyone here knew him by a different name.

“Doctor Mykopf,” said the green thing who was the closest they could get to a second doctor. Sara. “You’re break’s getting cut short again, I’m sorry. We have a rash in Two that I need a consult on.”

“How bad is this rash?”

“It includes purple mucous.”

Greg smiled. “Hot damn!” and left his paperwork in the claustrophobic break room. He did, however, take his coffee. This place ran on coffee, chocolate, and lots of sugar.

The little girl with the afro puffs was what the clinic was quickly nicknaming ‘amphibi-esque’. There were also mammalian, avian and lizardine mutations. Piscine was plausible, but still hadn’t been spotted.

“Oooh,” Greg winced. “Someone has the big ow’s…” He lowered himself to look into the kid’s teary eyes. “Do they burn?”

“…they ache,” said the kid.

“Cleaning has proved anti-efficacious,” said Sara. “Even with saline.”

And saline washes were the medical norm, here.

Gloves on, Greg gathered the purple mucous and tried gently spreading it on a rash patch. “Does this make it better?”

Nod nod nod. A grin so big it nearly paid for everything. She even let go of her Teddy so she could spread it all over herself.

Mom was making a face. “Oh, that’s just nasty. How’m I supposed to keep her clean with that muck on her?”

“Child services?” prompted Sara.

Mom’s face said it all. It said that the over-reaching arm of the government was far too over-reaching in her general direction.

“Child services.” Greg shook his head. “We’ll do an epidermal scan to be certain, but it looks like we need this 'muck’ for a healthy skin.”

“Would you like me to explain the details, or would you prefer it from Homer?” offered Sara.

Loser got to break out the Macroscope from storage. This time, the loser was Sara.

Greg kept to the G-rated areas of Little Thelize’s skin. “Mutants react to our environment in different ways. In this case, we have a skin that creates a healing goo that counter-acts all the toxins in the environment. I’m guessing you live in one of the Projects?”

“Cheap-ass flat in a fallin’-down building that ain’t had a renovation since it was built,” said Mom.

“We’re going to give you a free asbestos test kit. Along with the usual water-borne antagonists. Once we’ve cleared or outed the usual suspects, you might have to pay for a full-spectrum kit, but we have multiple payment plans if money’s a problem.”

“But that ain’t clean,” protested Mom.

Thelize sighed with relief. “It doesn’t burn, Mama.”

“We can write a note explaining Thelize’s mutant reaction to environmental factors beyond your control. And we have a lawyer willing to support your case.”

“Serious?”

“Pro Bono,” said Greg.

Sara came back, “Macroscope’s up in room five,” she said. She also had a paper. “This is the standard blather for special circumstances kids, all full legalese for the red tape crew. It’ll do the job in the interim if the case worker shows up before we can do the rest of the tests.”

“All right,” said Greg. “Let’s go take a look at your skin.”

The rash was fading as she moved. Social views on cleanliness versus this kid’s reactive skin was going to cause… friction.

“Gonna sell Xavier’s to them?” he murmured to Sara.

“Of course I am. 'Homer Mykopf’.” Which meant she knew. Of course she knew. Sara had ways.

It was why he was so happy, now. Mutants were always interesting. Even their mundane problems were interesting.

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