Spencer nearly protests that Chuck Taylors could never possibly go out of style before he realizes the doctor is being more than slightly facetious, and he frowns at the penlight for a moment before giving a conceding nod. He shoots a glance at the receptionist, who appears to be doing her best to look like she hasn't been watching the scene unfold and shuffles a stack of papers when she accidentally catches Spencer's eye. He sees a hint of amusement in her expression, in the way the corners of her lips are turned up just so, and he can only assume that means this is the way the doctor works on a regular basis.
"I don't like to be touched by-- Well, I don't often like to be touched," he says by way of explanation that hadn't been asked of him. He bounces on his heels for a moment before letting out a deep exhale and stepping closer to the doctor, rolling his shoulders back in an effort to relax. The man is gruff, to be sure, but Spencer manages to convince himself that he means no harm. He's a doctor, after all, and regardless of why he seems to be taking a peculiar interest in Spencer's case, doctors are meant to help people and that's what Spencer is here for--help.
He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, still a little jittery but calmer than he'd been a moment ago. "I-- I suffered a concussion a little over a month ago. Thirteenth of June," he offers, unsure of whether that information will be useful but he figures that without his chart in hand, the doctor might get something out of it. "I was struck in the head with a glass, I was unconscious for... well, to be entirely honest, I'm still not sure how long. Close to an hour, I suspect."
He leaves out the part about the torture--the black eye, the broken fingers, the finger-shaped bruises that littered his neck--because talking about it will only make him play it out beat-for-beat in his mind, the curse of an eidetic memory. "I've had migraines on and off since then, sometimes random and sometimes triggered by-- by something that reminds me of that time. I just thought I'd get a medical opinion on whether the headaches and the concussion are directly related."
no subject
"I don't like to be touched by-- Well, I don't often like to be touched," he says by way of explanation that hadn't been asked of him. He bounces on his heels for a moment before letting out a deep exhale and stepping closer to the doctor, rolling his shoulders back in an effort to relax. The man is gruff, to be sure, but Spencer manages to convince himself that he means no harm. He's a doctor, after all, and regardless of why he seems to be taking a peculiar interest in Spencer's case, doctors are meant to help people and that's what Spencer is here for--help.
He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, still a little jittery but calmer than he'd been a moment ago. "I-- I suffered a concussion a little over a month ago. Thirteenth of June," he offers, unsure of whether that information will be useful but he figures that without his chart in hand, the doctor might get something out of it. "I was struck in the head with a glass, I was unconscious for... well, to be entirely honest, I'm still not sure how long. Close to an hour, I suspect."
He leaves out the part about the torture--the black eye, the broken fingers, the finger-shaped bruises that littered his neck--because talking about it will only make him play it out beat-for-beat in his mind, the curse of an eidetic memory. "I've had migraines on and off since then, sometimes random and sometimes triggered by-- by something that reminds me of that time. I just thought I'd get a medical opinion on whether the headaches and the concussion are directly related."