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[dr_conscience]

Hello, you've reached Doctor James Wilson. I'm not available right now, so please leave me a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can.

Thank you.

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[dr_conscience]

Well, he wasn't going to say anything about the handiwork, but he figures his curiosity fits in neatly with the line of conversation. "They usually are. Were these done at a hospital, before you came here?" Of course they look neat enough, but not quite like they were done at a hospital - but he never can be sure, never knowing what world someone came from.

Pull and cut - it's a simple enough repeated maneuver, and he's making easy, fast work of it.

[defies_reason]

"Ah. No," he confirms. "I'd a friend with some experience and the supplies on hand, it seemed easier to have a drink and let him tend to it than worry about navigating your health care system."

Plus, of course, the fact that he'd just killed three men, but that's hardly something he wants to share.

[dr_conscience]

Wilson gives a slight, understanding nod, as he works on the rest of the stitches. "Well, he seems to have done a fine job of it. It could use a regular bandage for a while, but it should heal up fine."

And, of course, now he's just curious. "Where are you from, if you don't mind my asking?"

[defies_reason]

"Ukraine," he answers. "I live in Kiev, though I do travel a fair amount."

He watches with a vague interest; it's not the first time he's had to be patched up, after all, though generally Jurg is on hand to take the stitches out as well as put them in. It's rather interesting that Wilson-- a near-stranger, and obviously important enough here to pass off something so mundane-- has chosen to help in spite of all that. That says something about a man.

"I was in Miami, on business, prior to arriving here."

[dr_conscience]

"Really? Well, I can certainly understand our health care system appearing a bit convoluted."

And the last stitch is cut, then pulled out with the tweezer. That being done, he wipes down the thin line of a wound again with antiseptic. Just that and a fresh, standard bandage left to the whole procedure. It's a simple task - he could have left it to a nurse, but really, it's hardly a bother.

"What sort of business were you on?"

[defies_reason]

"Oh, just checking up on some... investments."

He flexes his arm experimentally, working out the slight stiffness of keeping it in one position for so long, before rolling down the sleeve and buttoning the cuff.

"I own a chain of gentleman's clubs there. The Fox Hole."

[dr_conscience]

Gentleman's clubs in Miami, huh? Wilson nods at that, a little smirk belying a touch of amusement.

"Well. Sounds like those are probably some lucrative investments."

[defies_reason]

The T-and-A business has never been as good as the heroin business beneath its facade, but it's true, it's nothing to sneeze at. He smiles in return.

"I can't complain, in general."

[dr_conscience]

He chuckles slightly at that, and the smile stays as he rises from his chair. He gives a nod to indicate the recently-stitched area on Isaak's arm as he stands.

"You should just need a few more days on the arm. It's best to keep it bandaged, to let it finish healing up entirely, but it looks like it's doing just fine."

[defies_reason]

"Excellent. I do appreciate your taking the time, Doctor Wilson."

Rising himself, he offers his hand.

[dr_conscience]

"It's really not a problem at all."

And he takes Isaak's hand, shaking it as he shifts expressions to his reflexive doctor smile.