therealpm

*It's 8.40 PM, and Molly has finally made it home after a day that began at 4 AM. A single father in Coventry had decided to tell his 15-year-old half-giant son the whole truth about his mother and the real reason behind his over 2 metre height - understandably, the young hybrid had been distressed. She'd gotten the call when neighbours began reporting small saplings being thrown into their yards.

It'd taken nearly until lunchtime to calm the boy down, talk him through his feelings of betrayal and apprehension about his new status, reassure him about his future, joke about going to America to play on a basketball team, get him registered, set him up with appointments with the local magical therapist, have a stern talking-to with the father about having a DEFRA representative on call instead of waiting for sapling-bedecked neighbours, and pay a quick visit to the aforementioned neighbours.

And then in the afternoon, besides catching up all her work that should have been done in the morning, she'd had to approve and file all the paperwork in the Mandelson case.

Molly's not entirely surprised when her phone rings as she walks in her door. Today, of all days, it seems only fitting.*

Hello?

*She shoots an apologetic glance at her wife Mona when she hears who it is. This is unlikely to be a short social call. It'll be back to the office with her, and she'll have to eat cold chicken out of the fridge later.*

How may I help you?

From:

Ms. Cratchett, John Bercow here. I am so very sorry to call you at this most unsocial hour, but I'm afraid I need some advice and simply didn't know where else to turn.

Lord Mandelson has been on the course of potion designed to attempt to rid him of lycanthropy for -

*He checks the notes*

- 11 hours, 50 minutes now and is asking for some form of pain relief. The nurse who saw to him this morning to begin to administer the potion was very clear on the matter or magical suppressants, but not on substances such as neurofen. Would it be possible for you to enlighten me on this matter?

From:

*Molly winces in silent sympathy. She's seen two attempts at the cure before, both in DEFRA's facility, and they are seared on her mind.*

Yes, magical suppressants are dangerous and detrimental. You can try neurofen, but I'm afraid it's never been shown to have any effect in these cases.

*The writhing body of Lucy, the first cure-case she'd seen, appears before her eyes. She remembers all the names of those she's lost. They deserve respect in death, the respect they failed to receive in life.*

You could try buprenorphine. It gave some relief in one of the cases I saw.

Edited Date: 2012-10-17 04:30 pm (UTC)

From:

Buprenorphine? Thank you.

*John grabs a pen and writes the word on the corner of a constituency letter he was reading through.*

Is there anything else you could recommend to try to dull the pain? Heat packs, for example; would they be of any use at all do you know?

From:

*Mona has gone back to the kitchen. Molly moves into the living room and sinks heavily into her favourite armchair.*

I've never seen heat packs used.

*It's been a long day. Molly feels a rush of truth bubbling to the surface, always a dangerous thing.*

To tell you the truth, Mr Bercow, I've never seen the cure attempted in anything other than a clinical setting. While pain relief was tried, there were no relatives or loved ones there to attempt less pharmaceutical interventions.

*In her mind's eye, she sees her hand, splayed ineffectually on the glass wall separating her from Lucy. Lucy had been one of her first patients; she'd been determined to risk the cure because, as she said, "I have a life to live! I'd rather die than be a thing chained to the wall for the rest of my days."

She'd died in pain, her feverish eyes fixed. Molly had turned away at the last moment, unable to watch.

Molly clears her throat.*

Heat packs may very well give some effect, if you feel up to braving the sickroom.

And...

Tell him that the victims are showing sudden and inexplicable signs of improvement. Small ones still, but the doctors are surprised and delighted.

Edited Date: 2012-10-17 04:46 pm (UTC)

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A process of trial and error on that front it would appear, then? I see.

We'll attempt the-

*He looks at the page.*

-buprenorphine, in that case.

...yes, I'll be sure to inform him of that.

Thank you for your time, Ms. Cratchett. I do hope I haven't ruined your evening.

*He finishes the call and hangs up the phone.*

From:

Not at all.

*Molly hangs up the phone.*

Mona, I don't have to go in again after all!

...Yes, I know what time it is.

...Yes, I know that probably means I'll get woken up at 1 instead.

*She grins.*

Shall I make it up to you in the meantime?

From:

*John turns to Peter.*

Ms. Cratchett doesn't think that neurofen would work, but she suggests buprenorphine instead, so I shall try and track that down for you in a moment.

With regard to other methods of pain suppression, it would seem that the previous cases Ms. Cratchett was involved in were at the department and, as such, pain relief was limited to drug administration, so heat packs and the like, as far as she was aware, have never been tested.

It's up to you what, if any, other methods are pursued.

From:

What time is it?

*Peter cranes his head to try and see out of the window.*

Are the shops still open?

*He winces as his arm throbs. He tugs cautiously on the other one.*

Could you undo some of these, and get a glass of water?

From:

It's almost 9 in the evening. I assume there will be somewhere open, but I don't know if a supermarket would have it or if I will have to find a pharmacy. I'll check online shortly.

*John summons a plastic tumbler of water and puts it down on the desk. He undoes some of the straps holding Peter to the bed and hands him the drink.*

How are you feeling?

From:

Godawful.

*Peter shuffles upright awkwardly, right arm still bound to the bed side so as not to disturb the drip.*

Like someone's taken every bloody bit of silverware in Westminster, melted it down, and forced me to drink it, only at least then the sensation would be confined to my digestive tract.

*He takes a small sip of water and continues.*

How did Ed do today?

From:

I couldn't possibly pass comment on the performance of the Leader of the Opposition at Prime Minister's Questions.

What I can tell you is that a Point of Order was raised after the session asking whether it is in order for the Prime Minister to refuse to answer questions put to him by the House.

From:

*Peter sets the glass of water down and allows himself to flop back onto the pillows, replying with some bitterness.*

No of course not. That would be far too close to being an interesting topic of conversation.

Oh good. And did you pass judgement upon the matter? Tell me, which article, sub article, paragraph and line of Erskine May did you quote at length and from memory in order to make your point? Perhaps you could regale me with it now? Or even the entire chapter? I would read it myself, but as you can see, I am chained to a bed, an unfortunate happenstance that somewhat interferes with my ability to hold a book, though not as much as the confiscation of every. single. tome. by DEFRA agents seemingly bent on ensuring that if this 'cure' doesn't finish me off, the boredom will!

From:

*John tries not to let his shock at Peter's sudden angry outburst show too much. He allows himself a pause before replying.*

I'll go and see to the buprenorphine, shall I?

*John makes a note on the pad and then goes to leave. He stops just before the door.*

According to Ms. Cratchett, the two have made "sudden and inexplicable" signs of improvement, much to the delight and surprise of their attending physicians. She asked that you be kept informed on such matters.

I will return shortly.

*John leaves to try and track down the drug the DEFRA officer suggested.*

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