(1938-11-18) Seeking Permission
Details for Seeking Permission
Summary: Sabine approaches Keenan to ask permission to join Rhyeline's case.
Date: Monday, November 19, 1938
Location: St Mungo's
Related: Digging at the Root

Sitting in his office, Keenan is going over a few of his charts, the light floating over his head as he works. A quill writes on a file next to him as he examines pictures and past records while he dictates. Even in his office he wears the robes that mark his station as a Master Healer in dual disciplines of Spell Damage and Potion and Plant Poisoning. Even though they are well kept, tidy and neat, there is a way in which he wears them that is almost casual, as if they are a part of him that he doesn't even have to think about. Leaning back he rakes one hand through his hair while the other plops the records on his desk. Making a reccommendation for treatment, he closes the dictation and crosses her arms lightly over his chest, the right hand drifting up as his forefinger plays thoughtfully across his upper lip.

There is a knock at the door. Not loud, not urgent, and a few moments later, the door is hesitantly opened by the aforementioned knocker. Sabine is quite a few places down in the St Mungo's hierarchy, and it is with due deference that she interrupts, "Excuse me, sir. I had hoped I might be able to take a few moments of your time. If you don't mind." She straightens her healer's robes; it's the only thing that might be considered nervous in her otherwise calm demeanor.

Glancing up, his seat remaining leaning back, Keenan curls the finger under his lower lip. Looking from Sabine he nods to the two chairs in front of his desk in an invitation to take one. "I just finished my dictations. What can I do for ye, Journeyman?"

Sabine gives the chairs a considering look, before stepping forward and seating herself in one. "Rhyeline Diderot," she begins. "It's an interesting case. And not one, I don't think, that has the luxury of time — as far as a cure goes. I would like to be part of her team." She gives the office a sweeping look, ending with Keenan, as if to infer 'and here we are'.

Keenan's demeanor doesn't change, the finger returning to brush along his upper lip as he looks across his desk at Sabine. At the mention of time, there's a slight twitch upwards of his eyebrow, but that is all. "Miss Diderot." He's quiet for a moment, those green eyes leveled on the woman sitting across from him. "You are not Miss Diderot, so that can't have been an introduction." His delivery is calm, even mild, bearing more curiosity than aggression.

There is a brief almost-smile, before Sabine answers, "Sabine Lestrange." At the very least, she doesn't seem intimidated by those eyes leveled at her. "I can help. I hope you'll let me. I want to investigate other avenues of treatment. I would run everything by you. I don't want to intrude."

The mention of running everything by him does draw both eyebrows up, and Keenan's hand falls to rest lightly on the other forearm near the elbow. "Ye would run everything by me?" he asks, the gaze a bit sharper. "Ye have thorough enough knowledge of Miss Diderot's case, Journeyman Lestrange, and also advanced enough skills in healing to know how much time Miss Diderot has, and what should be done to cure her?" The voice is not as sharp as the eyes, which is sometimes misleading to people who don't pay enough attention. Leaning forward, leaning his forearms on the desk, hands clasped lightly in front of him he changes tack. "Do ye have any idea how many journeyman have sat in that chair making the same request?"

"I'm going to guess the number is equal to the number of journeymen you've said no to," Sabine replies, losing a little deference and gaining a little sarcasm. "I'm not suggesting that I'm smarter or more talented than anyone else that's already on her team. I don't know the answer to her cure. If I did, it'd certainly be much more impressive than our current conversation. What I'm offering is a different perspective. I can see things from a different angle, and I have time to follow up leads. I'm motivated and I'm willing to put in the work." Her words come to a stop. There is a heavy pause. "If you are so confident that you have things under control and are well on your way to a cure, then tell me no. I will be glad of it, for the patient's sake."

"The first thing a healer learns, Miss Lestrange, is that the quickest way to lose a patient is to assume ye have everything under control." The mild converstional tone is underlayed with steel as he leans back in his chair, the eyes going from probing to a flat, hard stare, devoid of emotion or interest. "The number of journeymen who have wanted to be in on the case has been extremely high. The number of experts and full fledge healers, apothecarists and anyone that fancies themselves to have any knowledge of healing that have wished to be on the team in this case has been extremely high. Mostly because people want their name linked to solving her case as it's been quite puzzling and extreme." He pauses, studying her. "Every single one of them offers a different perspective, a different angle, motivation and time. The ones that I have said 'yes' to, are the ones that come to me with concrete ideas, something they've already considered and thought about, even if they may seem preposterous." He pauses for a moment. "I am not the lead healer on this case just because I am an experienced Master Healer. I am the lead healer because I managed to /earn/ the patient's trust, which is /the/ key to healing."

Sabine grows thoughtful, and as a result, loses some of the attitude as well. "I do have an idea. I was so concerned that I would be dismissed out of hand, given the number of people before me, that I … got defensive." It's apologetic, but not quite an apology. In either case, she continues, "But I do have an idea. I think in order to cure what ails Miss Diderot, we must go back to the source. I understand that she took a curse intended for someone else. This is a highly unusual curse. I think it was chosen for a reason. If someone's angry, they throw the first curse that comes to their mind. If someone wants revenge, they carefully design it, they dream of the perfect curse and the perfect suffering. I want to investigate what happened in Berlin."

After a moment of silence, there is one slow nod from Keenan. Acceptance of apology inferred just as the apology was inferred. "It was. The target was someone who we later learned was a dark wizard. We figured early on it was meant to be enhanced by temper, ill will and cruel deeds. There is a possbility that the casters might have known that he practiced dark magic, and that was somehow crafted in. Since Miss Diderot is not given to practicing any of these things, it's given us a chance to save her. I've suspected some of the information we need may be found more in auror reports than actual medical reports." He pauses and leans forward again, hands clasping lightly in front of him again. "/Can/ ye investigate what happened in Berlin?"

"Yes," is Sabine's quiet answer. She sounds firm in this belief. "I know the right kinds of questions to ask, and I feel confident that I will find something to explain the curse. Without knowing what the curse really is, we can only treat symptoms, and that's not good enough," she says, shifting to get more comfortable in her chair.

Keenan's eyebrows go up again as she once more states what the options are, and whether or not it's good enough, but he says nothing. After a long moment of consideration he nods. "Very well, then. Make the arrangements. I do have some questions of my own I haven't been able to follow up on, I will give them to ye before ye go."

Sabine doesn't sigh in relief, but the tension does leave her shoulders. She gives a firm nod. "Yes, sir," she replies. "Thank you, sir." Then, she hesitates. "Will I be able to interview the patient before I leave? A first-person account would be useful."

Keenan nods, "Ye're welcome. As to talking with Miss Diderot, I will see what I can do. At times she can be difficult. Not because she wishes to be, but because she doesn't wish to discuss unpleasant things. I have a feeling this will be one of those times." He leans forward a little more solidly on his elbows. "Which means, Journeyman Lestrange, that ye will have to be especially careful in yer choice of wording and yer body language when discussing this matter with her. Ye will need to be firm without being aggressive, ye need to be non-threatening, never defensive, and will have to probably take 'no' for an answer to some of the things ye most want to know."

Sabine's brow furrows the more Keenan talks. "Is that because you don't want her being upset or angry, thus feeding the curse, and worsening her condition?" she inquires.

Keenan shakes his head slowly with a grin. "That's because Miss Diderot is an innately private person and if pushed too hard will completely shut down and refuse to talk at all. If ye want her to tell ye what ye need to know, ye have to have her trust ye. . In order to have her trust ye, ye have to let her set the rules sometimes. Ye can't just tell people that they need to do what ye tell them or answer yer questions because ye are the healer and ye know better. While that may be true in a sense, it doesn't always inspire confidence in ye abilities." He gives a sudden chuckle. "Have you ever had your parents tell ye 'because I said so'?"

Sabine smiles back at Keenan. "I think I see what you mean," she nods. "I will definitely keep that in mind if she agrees to an interview. I know I love my own privacy all too well, so I can sympathize there, at least." She falls silent for a moment, then adds, "I'm sure I've taken up far too much of your time. I appreciate this very much."

When Sabine falls silent, the red head dips in a nod. "Good. Anyone can learn the spells and magic of healing. How yer patients /feel/ when they are being treated is where true success in healing lies." Leaning back in his chair again, he crosses his arms, much as they were when she entered, right hand lifting to brush at his chin again, forefinger resting at the middle of his upper lip. "Ye're weclome. I'll speak with Miss Diderot and see what I can do about arranging a meeting."

Sabine rises to her feet and gives Keenan another quick smile. "I look forward to hearing from you," she says. Then, she moves to let herself out of his office, closing the door behind her.

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