neverfoundtheanswer

[He moves his hand from Kevin's, only wincing slightly as he lifts his arm, pressing against the crown of his head where the parietal lobe would be.] Behind the frontal lobe, above the temporal. It's responsible for sensory output and spatial awareness, everything you see, hear, feel, as well as the position of your body and how it exists in space. [He recites the facts easily, like he has all of this information memorized and readily available to share.]

[He hums, head tilting slightly as he considers.] That'd make sense, then. Not sure how you just get one thing to cut out without screwing with everything else though. I get it if it's a sickness or something, I'm just not sure I see how it works with this.

[He shrugs, dropping his hand again. His understanding of neurosciences is pretty basic. Magical neuroscience is basically a guessing game.] If you want, I can look into it more for you, or we could just try some stuff. [Medication mostly, some of it might work.] Or we can think of something else.

If you think there's a chance it could shut this thing up-- [He makes a vague gesture towards his own temple, and then shrugs, his hand seeking out Emery's when he brings it down again.] You can try whatever you want on me, doc.

Okay. [Flips his hand up to thread his fingers with Kevin's again when he searches for it.] I'll do some research then. [He almost wants to get started right away, but it will have to wait until he can at least move without wincing.] We'll find something that works, I promise.

[He wants to point out that it's not a good promise to make, but it's not like Kevin's going to hold him to it. Anyway, maybe having something to focus on will do him some good. It seems like Emery's interested enough in it that it might work.]

Don't knock yourself out for it. [Lightly.] But it seems like a good plan to try.

I'll be fine. [Not appeasing, just matter-of-factly, he's basically always fine and he's dealt with worse. This is easy, this he'll enjoy anyway.] ...we should probably do some labs first. Make sure I don't give you anything dangerous.

[Emery knows this stuff enough that Kevin's pretty willing to just let him figure out what he needs, but he pauses at that, frowning.] Not sure how you're gonna do that. I know it's a big house but I don't think it comes with a med lab.

I just need your blood. Then I'll run it at work. Or school. [He basically has his choice of labs to be honest.]

Nobody's gonna notice you doing weird tests on some random blood? [He's not dubious so much as kind of amused, willing to take Emery's word for it.]

Probably not. I'm always working on random stuff, I don't think they'll even question it. [One of the perks of being a model student means that no one looks twice as long as he doesn't make it a problem for anyone else. They mostly just leave him alone.]

Alright. Then I guess just tell me when you're ready to get my blood. [He shrugs slightly, accepting it easily enough. It could be worse, there's way more invasive stuff he could want to try.]

As soon as I can think of something other than my skin boiling, I'll be good to go. [Meaning he already has everything he would need in his room. Always grabbing a few extra supplies for everything he does at work so he can take one home, he's started growing a little collection of medical supplies, never knowing when it might come in handy.]

Christ. [He doesn't sound surprised, just sympathetic, squeezing Emery's hand.] Maybe you should deal with your own blood first. See if there's a way to help with that. [No, he has absolutely no idea if that's even possible, but that's not the point.]

I have. [Obviously. His own blood was the very first he looked at. It certainly doesn't look normal, the skin cells over his tattoos don't either. But he can't quite pinpoint the difference or how to fix it. He's got the passion but he's still only a beginner at all of this.] I've tried some stuff, it just doesn't do much. Some of it makes it worse.

[He learned the hard way that anything topical basically just amplifies the burn. Water, ice, burning creams, all feel like salt in the wound. Figures that the bastard wouldn't give him an easy fix for this. Magic injury probably only responds to magic medicine.]

So you can't just take painkillers and crash until it's over, I'm guessing. [He wishes he could offer some kind of suggestion, but he doesn't know enough about any of this. It'll stick with him, though, something to turn over in the back of his head, trying to figure out something that might work.]

I guess I might be able to in this case...usually I have a task when he does this so crashing isn't really an option. [If he gets drunk or high when something's been asked of him, well, that wouldn't end well. These little random bits of torture, he supposes he could try that, but he always runs the risk of being out of it when he gets called on. That reason alone gives him so much anxiety that it rarely ends up being worth it.]

Right. You probably have to stay conscious for most of those. [He's not actually sure what Emery has to do most of the time, has continued to not ask for any more details than he's been given, mostly out of old habits.]

All of the ones I've done so far. It can get kind of dangerous, I like to be aware of what I'm doing. [Even though he's pretty sure it's never dangerous enough that he could be gravely injured. That would probably defeat the purpose of his role. He doesn't really want to get hurt at all though.]

Well, if he's gonna start changing things up and hurting you for nothing, you might as well change it up and find whatever relief you can. Not saying that has to be painkillers, but if you can find anything. [A little shrug.]

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