dr_lauren | April 30th, early evening

Bert's watching a movie on the big screen in his room, if only to keep from having to stare at the gods-be-damned clock, but as it turns out, it isn't a bad one, despite its startlingly high number of otherwise heroic-looking men in hose.

He doesn't hear the buzzer over the movie's clanging the first time, but when it sounds a second time, he glances up at the door. He's not much in a mood for visitors, especially because he expects it to be Sharon, but if it is, he'll just pretend he's six beers in instead of three.

"Sorry! C'mon in," he calls at the door, which slides open.

"Um, hi." Lauren stands just inside the door, looking as if she might back out at any moment. There's a film on the screen and Bert is lounging on the couch like he's relaxing, or trying to, and obviously an interruption like this isn't what he had been expecting or wanting. "Sorry, you're busy, I'll just go..."

"No, no," he insists, and fumbles with his communicator for a moment to get the movie to turn off, which it does not.

"Cry your pardon-- still can't make this damned thing work..."

He manages to turn off the volume, anyway, and remembers his manners, getting up off the couch to meet her at the door, as he would've done in the first place if he'd thought it might be someone as unexpected as Lauren.

"You can come in, sit down, if you like..." With the exception of the empty beer bottles on the table, it's clean and otherwise lady-appropriate in his room and, well, she's already seen those.

There seems to be two types of men on the station - the gentlemen like Steve and Bert, and then the... less-gentlemanly. Not that Lauren is in the market for either type, but still there's something soothing about his manners and the little gestures, like getting up to greet her.

"Thanks," Lauren tells him, taking a seat on the edge of one of the armchairs and drumming her fingers on her knees in a nervous, distracted rhythm. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I wasn't going to come, but Sam said you might be a good person to talk to about... something that's come up recently."

Edited 2013-04-30 14:14 (UTC)

Bert doesn't let it show, but that strikes him a little funny. He's not generally anybody's first choice as a sounding board for serious matters-- well, not on the station, anyway-- and it's doubly odd that Sam, who he's only just met, might send Lauren his way. But Sam seems suspicious-- moreso than the average new arrival, anyway, and it's just possible he's one of the few people she's met that struck her as straightforward and sane enough to be a likely candidate for this discussion.

He's not sure what that says about Sam's judgement, but Lauren's here now, so it's all one.

"Not at all," he says, with real warmth in his voice, because she looks as nervous as the proverbial long-tailed cat, and shakes his head to let her know she hadn't disturbed him. Manners would dictate he offer her a drink and some small talk to go along with it, but his intuition tells him she'd prefer to get down to business, so he does that, as politely as he can manage. "What's on your mind?"

"It's about the... vampires," Lauren says. "You know about them, right?" she adds, hoping she didn't just plunge him into a panic. Luckily he nods and she lets out a sigh of relief.

"I took them aside and spoke to them when we were trapped in the Sanctuary - I was worried because we didn't know how long we were going to be stuck in there and I wanted to organise some willing volunteers for them so I could keep an eye on them and make sure they were staying healthy," she explains, her gaze fixed on a nondescript patch of carpet. "Where I'm from, the world I come from, I have experience with that sort of thing."

"Sure," Cuthbert says, and initially, when she asks about the vampires, he's worried she's going to bring up the fact that, well, there are vampires walking around and no one seems to mind. Vampires exist in Cuthbert's world, but they looked nothing like Klaus and Caroline; they were half-mad monsters in a near-constant state of hunger and decay, nothing you'd mistake for a human. He got to know Klaus and Caroline as humans, first, and they've certainly seemed capable of taking care of themselves, but of course in a situation like the lockdown, with no replicators to speak of, it becomes a different situation.

Again, he feels the uncomfortable sensation he felt when talking to Sam: there's a lot on the station that people prefer not to talk about, and once, it might've been his job to address some of those issues. Instead, he's taken up a spectacular drinking habit and spends his time watching this pabulum play out on the screen.

"All right... And what was their response?" It seems to be the obvious question. Bert leans in, lacing his fingers together and watching the nuances of Lauren's changing expression.

Lauren huffs out a laugh; the smile she gives has little humour in it. "They felt they didn't need my help. More specifically, they thought that bringing it up to the group would invite mass hysteria and a mob mentality. Which... I understand their fears, I really do, but I had suggested that to try and help with that, not exacerbate it." She had questioned her own judgement on this numerous times since the 'realisation' had dawned, with varying results.

Lauren's frustrated, the way well-intentioned people tend to get when more suspicious folk turn them away; Bert doesn't need to have been there to imagine just how the argument went down, now. He hadn't been sure that Klaus and Caroline would reject the idea, but now that Lauren says so, he sees it mirrored in all of their behavior, especially in the guilt written on Caroline's face when she'd... bitten him in the pantry.

As for Bert, he's not sure what he thinks would come of such a public announcement. He wouldn't classify even the reaction to the lockdown as mass hysteria; they are all of them people who are, more or less, accustomed to dramatic developments.

"I'd wager better than half the station already knows about Klaus," he says, shrugging. "And he and Caroline are plainly an item-- she lives with him and I've seen her... training with Logan, so I'd wager that most of the people on the station guess, anyway, that she's got a similar condition." There are plenty of opponents more equal to Caroline in size and weight without her needing to seek out a human anvil like Logan unless, say, Santana or Zoe can't handle Caroline in the ring.

"Did you get the impression they think they're undercover? ...well, they must if they didn't want you to address it."

There's obviously more yet to the story.

"No, they certainly didn't," she says, her lips twisting into a self-deprecating smirk. "And I suppose I belaboured the point too long, because after a few minutes Klaus decided he had had enough and... mesmerised me, I suppose," she said, trying to adjust her terminology to his slightly antiquated speak. "To agree with him and drop the subject, and go about my merry way."

Bert just stares at her, looking equal parts troubled and skeptical.

"He what? ...'mesmerized' you? How'd'y'mean...?"

"It's not uncommon for supernatural creatures to have the ability to... force people to do things," Lauren said, thinking of Vex and suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't know exactly how it works, but I think that at least Klaus and Caroline possess some sort of ability to force their will on others, and that he used it on me."

Bert looks vacantly at Lauren for a second as the full meaning of what she's saying hits him.

To agree with him and drop the subject, and go along my merry way.

He surprises himself with the next question that pops out of his mouth:

"Who else have you told? Have you seen or heard from either of them since it happened?"

Something about his questions reassure her, and she nods as if to say good, Sam was right. "I've spoken to John, Sam and Steve - John to check that I hadn't been fed from, Sam because she figured it out, and Steve because..." She trailed off, then shrugged. Steve should be pretty apparent why.

"I haven't seen or heard from them since we left the Sanctuary... maybe I've been subconsciously avoiding them, I don't know. Either way, I haven't crossed paths with them since."

"Do you suppose they expected the glammer to wear off?"

What he's really asking is: do you feel safe now?

"I don't imagine they did," she says with a shake of her head. "It doesn't reflect very well on them if it was to come out that they did that-" and nor should it "-so if they thought it would they'd be more careful. I'd think."

Bert chews on this thought awhile, looking down at his boots.

"I think a development like this is apt to make people uneasy, particularly if it stays secret or becomes a rumor, which it's bound to in a place this size." A beat, while he continues to think it over. "I think someone ought to have a talk with Klaus."

He looks up at Lauren to gauge her thoughts on the matter.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she says immediately with an emphatic shake of her head. After all, she had tried to do just that and look where it had ended up. She didn't think the vampires were very big on talking out their problems.

"What would you say, anyway?"

He's a little surprised by her reaction, mostly because he's not sure what the alternative really is, in the long run, but he doesn't blame her for it. Bringing the matter up to Klaus-- a matter she's clearly uncomfortable discussing even with Bert-- is obviously nervewracking.

"What would I say?" At first, he'd been assuming that since she'd gone to Steve, presumably in a nod to his unspoken leader position, that's who they might want to send, but if Bert went, well...

"I... I suppose I'd drop by, ask if I could come in, see if it was a good time for a conversation. I'd let him know you came to see me about what happened, that you were quite understandably upset, and that where I come from, it's generally considered rude to mind-control a lady without her express permission. I imagine I'd remind him that if it's pitchforks and torches he's trying to avoid he might want to make nice with you as soon as possible. Maybe consider a public statement about their condition as a kind of apology."

It's clear from his tone that he thinks all of this is reasonable. Bert's not an idiot-- he knows damn well Klaus isn't going to knock back a beer with him and take it all in amiably-- but there's no jail to throw him in, there's no real authority to take this to or law to cite... it's just going to have to be settled man-to-man, in as civilized a fashion as they can both muster.

Lauren hates the idea, and almost says so, but really, what other choice do they have? She doesn't want to lead a mob against them, but nor does she want to be the one who tries to convince them to make any kind of apology. It's probably best if, for the time being, she doesn't get involved.

"If you do go speak to him, please make sure you tell several people beforehand. And call me afterwards. Just to make sure that... well." She doesn't need to say it, does she?

Bert can read on her face well enough what she thinks of his idea, but she's much too polite to tell him not to or else she, like him, can't conjure what else to do.

That gives him a little confidence. He thinks back to when he, er, took Klaus out for dinner in the jungle, and that it had been an easy favor for Bert because Klaus had saved his life just a few month before. They've got something of a rapport. And he'd like to think he put Caroline at ease when they'd been in the Sanctuary... sure, he'd gotten a little jelly-kneed after the fact, but it had been a stressful day for all of them.

He glances back at Lauren, temporarily lost in his own thoughts, and reels back what she's just said: tell several people beforehand, call me afterwards. It's such a kind thought, and it makes him feel doubly uncomfortable that this happened to her.

"You sure you'd be all right with that? I'd take every precaution," he says, as earnest as he can manage. It's not that he doesn't think Klaus could tear his throat out if he wanted to-- he's seen the man in action-- it's that he doesn't really expect it'll come to that, or even close. "It'll just be a conversation."

And because now that they've reached some kind of a decision, anyway, and it seems like a little comfort and distraction wouldn't go amiss, he goes up the replicator and tries to urge something nice out of it.

The replicator's offering is, what appears to be, anyway, hot cocoa topped with thick cream. It smells unusually spicy to Bert's senses, but he's counting his blessings he doesn't have to offer his guest a piping hot cup of fish innards.

"I realize I'm not the medical professional, but you look like a soul in desperate need of chocolate."

Edited 2013-05-02 21:15 (UTC)

She doesn't know how much she needs a little reassurance until he's offering a mug of cocoa to her, and then it feels like she might cry at the gesture. She doesn't, thankfully, merely giving him a slightly wavery smile as she cups the cocoa in both hands and gives a grateful sip. "Thank you. I, um, don't know how much time you've spent with Sam, but thank you for whatever you've been doing. It's good that she's finding people to trust here. It'll help her settle in that much quicker."

Bert's never been especially good at gracefully accepting gratitude; he's naturally bent toward making light of things and part of that includes a staunch refusal to take himself seriously. But it's a charged moment-- seems like Lauren's been pulling two pounds on a three pound trigger for the last few days and like she's only just now letting down her guard some-- and he knows better than to wave her acknowledgement off.

"Haven't done much," he says honestly. "I'd seen you two coming and going from her room an' knew you were taking care of her, but it took me awhile to get around to introducing myself." He'll just leave out the part where he was waist-high in his cups when he finally did get around to it. "We discussed pie, among other business."

"Pie?" She dips her head and it takes the laughter a moment to bubble out, but she's soon chuckling, more at the absurdity of it all than any actual humorous content. "Well, glad you covered the important topics then," she says, looking back up at him with a smile to show she's just teasing.

Well, the only thing better than getting a laugh from anybody is getting a laugh from a pretty blonde, so Bert grins, genuinely grateful to see that smile.

"I am nothing if not thorough," Bert agrees with her seriously. "Though I confess, I didn't actually know you were a doctor until Sam told me. Should I... be calling you 'doctor'?" he ventures, affecting some anxiety for quiet, well-mannered Lauren's undoubted wrath.

"I don't even know if I'm licensed to practice medicine in this universe, so I guess it doesn't really matter," Lauren tells him, smirking. "Just don't report me to the board." She doesn't know if that joke will make any sense to him, but her sense of humour is shaky at best right now so it'll have to do.

"What did you do? Back home, I mean."

"When first I clapped eyes on you, I sensed a certain illegitimacy about you, a certain... shadiness of character," he admits, a little ruefully. "But your secret's safe with me, because I like to keep friendly with the people that might have me at their scalpel-wielding mercy some day."

He takes a sip of his drink, some sort of lemon-lime soda in a glass bottle.

"Back home I was, a, ah... a peacekeeper," he says. "We called ourselves 'gunslingers' but as I understand it, that has a different sort of meaning Earth-side. We all of us had different roles, but mine was a sort of 'knight-errant', but with a revolver instead of a sword."

Cort would choke on his graf if he heard Bert call himself a knight-errant but the sound of it appeals to him, and it's true enough... if you subtract all the romance, anyway. Better than peacekeeper. Quite a misnomer, that one.

Ah, a peacekeeper - that made sense then, why Sam would have trusted him. Well, that and his charming demeanour, which has even Lauren at ease now, even if her worries aren't completely dismissed. "Sounds like quite a calling," she says with a smile, her tone genuine. "I suppose I came to the right person with this quest, then."

Bert makes a little noise on the matter of his 'calling', a pleasant but noncommittal hum, but he seems to snap back to vitality on the matter of her having come to him.

"I'm glad you did. I'll let you know how it goes, and in the meantime, you make sure to let me know if you think of anything I can do for you."

He means it, and there's something about his tone that communicates there's no favor she could ask of him that he'd blink at.

"Thank you." This seems as good a time as any to be on her way, so she sets aside her mug of chocolate - half-finished - and stands. It hadn't been a good day by any definition of the phrase but after speaking to Sam and Steve and Bert she's at least feeling even-keeled, like there's someone in her corner.

"Thank you," she says again as she turns to face him, hands folding against one another in front of her. "For listening to me, and taking me seriously. It's... it's been a long time since people have done that, and it means a lot. It's..." She trails off, then shakes her head, giving a self-deprecating smile. "Well. Good luck, Bert."

April 30th, early evening

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