2012 02 08 A Coffee And A Check Up

Log Title:
A Coffee and a Check-up

Morbius and Phantasm

IC Date:
8 Feb 2012

JFK Airport

Brief log summary::
A fatigued Mike returns from overseas and runs into a concerned doctor.


There is no TS in this log::

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-==[ JFK Airport - New York ]==--------—-

John F. Kennedy International Airport is an international airport located in the borough of Queens in New York City, about 12 miles (19 km) southeast of Lower Manhattan. It is the busiest international air passenger gateway to the United States, handling more international traffic than any other airport in North America It is also the leading freight gateway to the country by value of shipments. In 2010, the airport handled 46,514,154 passengers, making it the 16th busiest airport in the world in terms of passenger traffic.

Over ninety airlines operate out of JFK. It is the base of operations for JetBlue Airways and is a major international gateway hub for American Airlines and Delta Air Lines. The airport is the fourth largest hub for American Airlines and is the fifth largest hub for Delta Air Lines. In the past, it has been a hub for Eastern Air Lines, National Airlines, Pan American World Airways and Trans World Airlines. The airport was renamed after John F. Kennedy, the 35th President of the United States. From 1964-1968, the airport code was KIA.

The airport itself is emmense and covers several square miles. Security is all about and terminals are seperated from the main concourse by way of checkpoints. Only those with tickets can get to terminals and thus fly to their destinations.

One may book flights to all over the world. Most of the international flights last more than 8 hours. While domestic can last as much as 4.

With Wednesday not quite being the busiest travel day of the week, there's actually breathing room at JFK. The line for security does not extend a long ways and the wait is quite managable for those waiting to be able to go to their designated terminal. There's even less of a wait for those who wish to leave with a promise of yet another wait should they happen to change their mind.

Mike Hannigan, who switched over from the Mick Drago persona once his appearances were done with overseas, is not one of these people. Carry-on slung on his shoulder, the very much exhausted looking musician is slowly making his way out of the checkpoint. While the rest of his traveling companions make their way over to baggage claim, he's instead tiredly eyeing a coffee vendor display just a ways down. CAFFIENE. OH GOD YES.

Just before security, two professionally-dressed men stand, apparently going over something work-related. One is middle-aged, brown-haired, mustached, slender and fairly put-together. The other is just a bit younger, black-haired, a bit striking, actually, looking a touch more harried.

The brown-haired man points to a folder, "All the records are in there, Michael. Just do a consult and email me the results. I know you have time, considering the additional hours we've added to your regimen. You have a large enough supply to last better than 3 weeks, and the new cooler is running at 100. Honestly," he says with a bit of friendly concern, "You're worrying too much."

The darker man replies, "Alright Jacob. It's just…after the other night, I'm not sure how much it's all stabilized. I've run some blood chemistry and I just can't say yet. I still think I should-"

He's cut off, "It's -your- life, and if you want to go see her, I certainly can't stop you. But the important thing is, she's fine now and if you feel like…whatever, well, you're more than capable."

"The dark man sighs, "You're right, Jacob. It's just…this is all so -new-, and now you have that conference…ah…it's only 2 weeks. I'll, I'll let you know how that goes, hm?" He seems to buck up, just a touch, "Get me a program and ask Dr. Heber-Katz those questions I sent you."

The older man smiles and shakes the younger's hand firmly, "I will. And -relax-. I know I can't quite understand the circumstances, but this is the best it's been since. I'll call you when I arrive. Besides, I could -use- some warm weather."

As the duo give their farewells to each other, Mike finally steps out of the check point, turning his head, he nods to the last of his traveling companions and tilts his head in indication to the coffee vendor. The short haired blonde man glances over, gives a bit of a wry smile and a nod, "I'll grab your stuff. Meet you there." And with that, the blonde also heads off with the others to baggage claim.

Having given indication to his intent, Mike's path deviates from the other baggage claim heading folks as he makes his way over, the exhausted musician only slightly registering the doctor with a half way befuddled look. Hu- where'd he- Eh, he'll figure it out later. COFFEE. MUST HAVE.

'Dr. Morgan Michaels' turns as his colleague gets into security, removing shoes and the like. Still a bit unused to being out in a public place like this he is a touch distracted. Thoughts of the women he'd injured - Misty Knight - still haunt him as well. As he starts to go he hesitates, a scent familiar to so many people, but something he hadn't experienced in…seems like forever. Fresh coffee, and decent coffee, not hospital-break-room brew. And he's capable of -drinking- it too. For now, the terrible Thirst is at bay, barely a dim echo in his mind. He finds his feet, almost unbidden, carrying him over.

He seats himself, looking over the menu. Removed from popular culture for some time, the array of choice gives im pause. Finally, he settles on asking "Unsweetened, please…like sketos. Rich foam, a double." he smiles a bit, Greek coffee is a particular taste, and someone is going to earn a nice tip for something close.

Mike, having gotten there sooner is also seated. But, he's not quite looking at the menu. It remains sandwiched between the napkin dispenser and the containers holding the sugar packets and the mini-moos. Also resting on the table, is soon Mike's arms, as his head just rests upon the sides of them. "Nggh." He grumbles as the server eventually reaches his table, "Coffee. Black." There's a bit of a pause before he remembers to add in the 'please'. Man how he hates airport hopping.

Dr. Michaels sips his coffee, a bit loudly and very slowly, not rude per se, but specifically, something done back home, a million years ago it seems. He sighs softly, his eyes drifitng across the other patrons and lighting on Mike. The young man doesn't look well, and he has an eye for that. As well…he seems somehow familiar…this looks like more than just someone tired from the flight. He takes in the signs, head twitches, fluttering eyelids every so.

When the drink is brought to Mike's table, he gives a murmur of thanks as she sets the cup down on the table. He lingers a few moments before the knit capped man reaches his hand over to take the cup. He doesn't even straighten up his posture until after he gets the first few sips in. Then he leans back, letting the back of the chair support his weight as he sighs. He glances around, frowning as he doesn't really focus on anyone in particular. But, even half asleep there's a general feeling of being looked at and his head turns accordingly looking over to Dr. Michaels. He looks at him blankly before a brow raises. Huh, when'd that guy come over here? He sips his coffee again. Seemingly forgetting not to look away from the doctor. Where the hell has he seen this guy before?

Morbius is a man quite used to being looked at, stalked, outright hunted - but fortunately, that's not what's goin on here, apparently. He takes a moment before pacing the face…that night…he frowns a bit, hiding it by taking another long sip of coffee mmm, good.

He decides to speak first, solicitously, "Young man, excuse me, but - are you feeling quite alright?" He pauses, looking down and fishing about inside a jacket pockt, coming up with a rectangular, laminated card, bigger than a driver's license, "I'm a doctor."

When given the explanation to his occupation. The other brow lifts as he gives a bit of a weak smile, "Ah, so that's where I've seen you. Was wondering." The cup lowers, "…Bellvue?" The inquiry into his own health does not appear to go answered this time around. Whether it's a choice ignoring of the question or he simply didn't take note of it is hard to tell.

The doctor nods slightly, "Yes. I started a short time ago." It's solidfying, as soon as Knight ended up in that very hospital, he did make sure to take a glance through her charts, to be sure she'd recover. This man -may- have been on the street that night.

Mike nods at the confirmation. "You were talking with Dajan." He offers up helpfully, whether the doctor was needing further information for the purposes of the conversation or not. He turns his head, lifting up the coffee cup again. Stifling a bit of an, off kilter chuckle as he starts looking around, "Do you have the time?"

"About ten of eleven." 'Morgan' replies, "Dajan? Ah…you're a friend of the young lady with exposure, yes. I do seem to recall your face. I see a good many people, of course." he again asks, "And are -you- feeling alright? Seems a touch more than jet lag, if you don't mind my saying."

"No." Mike murmurs, giving a halfassed shrug, the tired mode causing for his words to seem a bit more of a half-assed accent of New York Irish, "But It'll be better when I get home. Someone fucked up the schedule, throwing me off."

Dr. Michaels mmms softly, "I don't mean to pry…" but his tone says 'I'm sort of prying a bit anyway.'

Mike looks back at the Doctor, growing quiet as he looks from his table to the other before grumbling and giving a sigh, gesturing over to an empty seat at his table. There are just some things better not said out that loud.

The physician accepts, moving over, after being sure to leave a nice tip for the coffee. He cradles the cup in both hands as he sits, savouring the warmth and scent. It's like he hasn't had good coffee in forever.

As the doctor comes over, Mike takes the opportunity to sip his not quite as frilly coffee. When he's got enough of a dose and sort of but not really wakes up, he looks to the doctor, voice lowering, "Uh, pretty much I have a sleep disorder."

"I assume you're receiving treatment?" Dr. Michaels asks, "Bellvue does have a nice polysomnography setup, as I recall." he adds, gently, "It can be much worse for frequent travelers. I had a bit of a rough spot with that myself a bit ago."

"Been getting it for years," Mike confirms, giving a nod, "Was actually just finished with an appointment when I spotted you and Dajan." He lifts up his cup, "See if he needs to switch out the meds and stuff." He takes another sip of the coffee. Eyes starting to close. Not from enjoyment so much as, he's freaking tired.

"I assume you have a ride home?" the doctor asks, "Any problems with getting your medication on the flight?" a touch of annoyance there, already he's had to hear about that sort of thing.

Mike nods, giving a halfway bemused smile to the situation, "Spend years building a fan base and TSA's worried about me playing jihad with a plastic bottle over the ocean." He gives a bit of a laugh at this, if it can be called a laugh. It seems more there for lack of something better to do than legitimate.

"As a man of reason, I have my own opinion of such things." Dr. Michaels notes. Subtly, and as you are tired, he changes gears a bit, "Did I see you visiting another friend recently? ICU for a while there, or am i mistaken?" he's feeling out about Misty.

Mike looks at the doctor curiously, "Not / recently /." Mike replies, giving a bit of a frown, "I was out of the country for nearly a week."

"Ah…" the older man notes, "Days tend to run together a bit for me, lately. I don't just pull ER duty, I'm on labwork as well. I took a sabbatical a while ago and am getting my feet under me again. I just saw a colleague, a GP, off to a conference in California. You just can't cease learning in this."

"Ah." Mike gives a bit of a slow nod, although he's probably not processing much of it as he thinks of another thing, eyes partially closed, "Wa-" He pauses, shaking his head, glancing back over to the doctor, "Kind of can go with the learning bit." He's, not quite detailed in the hows and whys but at least he's staying awake.

Dr. Michaels adds, with some concern, "It's gratifying to hear you're dealing with this. Sometimes…sometimes people let these things go and don't realize when it might be hurting those they care about. Make sure you don't neglect this. Not for work, not for anything else." There's a slight tone in his voice of something…an old regret, perhaps?

Mike gives a bit of a half-laugh, giving a shake of the head, "Trust me, I'm very much aware of what I'm like without it." He holds up his coffee, "Tours, generally you have off days each week so I can manage a routine around those. And most know well enough not to book mid-Sunday to mid-Monday." He shrugs, "Well… most."

"Be…adamant." the doctor replies, "Doctor's orders and all."

"Does it count that the appearances got short so I could get back home to settle things sooner?" Mike asks, giving a bit of a curious look.

Dr. Michaels nods, smiling a touch, "I hope that wasn't an inconvenience, but it's good. Too many busy professionals tend to put things off. As I said, I had a similar issue and I'll admit, I could have handled it better."

Mike shakes his head, "Nah. Most of those who need to know are aware of my situation. And I've had this long enough that my career's kind of molded around it."

Dr. Michaels notes, "Always a good idea. I've done that myself. Made sure my 'day job'-" he works nights, as you've seen, "gives me the time I need." he glances at his watch, "Ah, if you'll excuse me," then hesitates, "Do you need any assistance getting back?"

At the question, Mike shakes his head, "Nah. My friend's going to swing by here after they deal with the luggage." He gives a tilt of his chin up in a half nod to the doctor, "But thanks for asking."

"It isn't just the job," the doctor says, "Some of us are in it for more than the mansions and prestige." Obviously joking a bit…it's been so long since humour wasn't something dark and terrible, used to terrify.

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