RP Koken

DATE: 7/**/2023
ASSETS: Dr. Kallie Reed; William Archer, "Wisper"
EQUIPMENT: Clipboard, notepad, several pens, and a questionnaire
PURPOSE:A brief check up

Koken. Noun, meaning “a rogue or rascal”. It was a Scottish word. That was the proper word to describe Kallie’s next stop. She was making the rounds for the anokids, or was, as she had visited the last one just moments ago. Despite the fact that she mostly dealt with those under eighteen these days, there was one who she couldn’t pass off to another researcher no matter how hard she tried. And she had definitely tried.

No one would take Archer off her hands.

Which was why she was walking down the hall, her short heels clicking as she walked. Her heeled oxfords were tied with neat bows, that matched the neatness of her black turtleneck and gray slacks. She had worn the same clothes like a uniform ever since joining the Foundation, despite weather and seasons and years passing, the turtleneck and slacks stayed. This wasn’t because she particularly liked the clothes, but more that someone had told her she looked like a man when she first arrived wearing them, and ever since she had been determined to wear them every single day. Kallie could be stubborn, even petty, this way.

It was through sheer stubbornness, that same stubbornness, that she flashed her badge across the containment unit’s door. It shut behind her, and only then did the second door open. Once she was inside that one, the doors closed behind her again, and a quick spray was dispersed over her. She could feel the room pressurize as it fell down around her. Then, the final door opened. She walked inside with an audible sigh, lifting her clipboard. She set the mobile med kit on the small table inside the front door of the unit and looked up.

“Archer. How are we doing today?”

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William Archer, officially ACF-6842, was not malicious. He simply wanted to be left alone.

No, that wasn’t entirely honest. In fact that was partial bullshit, fine total bullshit. He didn’t want to be left alone, he just didn’t like the fucking stonefaced whitebread researchers coming in and prodding him asking him how he felt and what he could do. There were a handful of researchers he could stand, including one who he couldn’t fucking remember who still occasionally came to visit. He was a fun one.

So it was no wonder that his attitude took a turn for the worse when he heard the all-too-familiar clack of those fucking heels coming towards him. William had just been enjoying his day, practicing his guitar. He wasn’t sure what he’d fucking done to deserve this. Okay so maybe one intern had to go and get some light amnestics, but William had barely peeled his own skin off. That should’ve been child’s play to someone working for the Foundation!

Whatever he’d done to deserve this, she was here now. The familiar hiss of the pressurizing gas that kept him stuck in more or less the same form heralded the arrival of Doctor Kallie “Poke Them With A Sharpened Stick Until They Bleed” Reed. William looked up from his guitar, fingers still on the frets, his face a mask of indifferent annoyance. It was clear neither of them wanted to be here.

“Mhm.” Short, noncommittal, and the only response she was getting from him at the moment. His chair spun until his back was to her, and William plucked a few rising notes on his guitar. What happened next was up to her.

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Kallie sighed as Archer turned around in his spinning chair, Setting her pen down on the top of her clipboard. She pulled up the spare chair from the table and swung it around to face the spinning chair.

This wasn’t exactly an unusual reaction for the boy. Kallie and Archer were not on the best of terms. He had taken an immediate disliking to her the moment that he had met her a few years ago. She couldn’t exactly blame him either-. She knew she was a bit of an [expletive], as well as a hard-[expletive]. She had a weakness for the kids, however, and that was why she tried to hard with Archer.

“I can sit here all day. We could sit here and stare at the wall together for hours if that’s what you want. Or you can give me twenty minutes of your time and just get this over with.”

She sat in the chair, facing the same direction as Archer. She swung one of her legs up and crossed them at the knees, the clipboard forgotten on the table. She didn’t need the thing. She already knew all of the answers would remain unchanged, just as the questions had remained unchanged. So she asked the first question off the list. “How are you, Archer?”