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Things not to do in a vet's office...
Or at least one thing. I may try to list other actual helpful tips, but this one might entertain people.
So, to all potential clients, please heed this simple rule: Keep your clothes on.
Really, that's it. Just stop stripping in the exam room. I'm sure that the mastectomy scar or the appendix surgery scar or whatever other scar you want to show me is really neat. I'm glad you have some medical knowledge that will help us communicate. But for the love of all that's holy, just keep your shirt and pants on. Please. Also, telling me that whatever surgery you had "really changed" you mentally/physically isn't necessary when you're stripping for me. I figured that out.
The fact that I am almost at the point where I need to use my toes as well as my fingers to count stripping clients is simultaneously amusing and distressing.
Or at least one thing. I may try to list other actual helpful tips, but this one might entertain people.
So, to all potential clients, please heed this simple rule: Keep your clothes on.
Really, that's it. Just stop stripping in the exam room. I'm sure that the mastectomy scar or the appendix surgery scar or whatever other scar you want to show me is really neat. I'm glad you have some medical knowledge that will help us communicate. But for the love of all that's holy, just keep your shirt and pants on. Please. Also, telling me that whatever surgery you had "really changed" you mentally/physically isn't necessary when you're stripping for me. I figured that out.
The fact that I am almost at the point where I need to use my toes as well as my fingers to count stripping clients is simultaneously amusing and distressing.
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(Really. Have nothing more to say to that. The mental image alone...)
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"I'm just here to take care of your dog/cat/pet, sir, puts your pants back on."
Somehow I want to work this into a fic, I really do.
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Do people not understand that you are a medical professional for non-homosapiens?
People are weird.
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-
"So, Mr. Grantaire, you're here for your cat, Enjolras," Joly said, leaning down to open the crate door. He bent low to carefully extract the pure white cat from the crate. "Aww, he's gorgeous. Look at those blue eyes. Aren't you so pretty?"
"He's been a bit down in the dumps lately," Grantaire said, watching the doctor handle his cat. He didn't like it when anyone got too close to Enjolras. Except his neighbor Combeferre, whom Enjolras really seemed to like.
"Has he been eating?"
"About the same as normal."
"He's got a bit of a scar here. Surgery?" Joly asked, gently petting the soft fur, feeling the scar tissue.
"We have matching ones, actually," Grantaire said. "Oddest thing. Here, let me show you-"
"Sir, that's really not necess-"
Before Joly could finish his sentence, Grantaire had pulled his shirt over his head and turned around.
"You can't really see it, it's sort of… Stupid jeans… Hang on."
Joly pursed his lips, watching as Grantaire unbuttoned his jeans and slid the waistband down a few inches. A wicked-looking scar crossed from his hip bone down past the top of his jeans.
"See it?" Grantaire asked.
"…Unfortunately. Sir… can you please put your clothing on?"
"What? Oh! Sorry," Grantaire said, dressing. "So. What's wrong with my cat?"
Joly pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
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My sympathies! But at least by now, you've probably perfected your poker face!