Clint was still trying to come up with something to say when the door opened, without success, but maybe that wasn't necessary right now. Natasha knew, he was there for her and accepted it, that was all he had to offer right now.
And maybe help her through that difficult first conversation. Or send that doctor back where he came from if he turned out to be a moron after all. He had seemed okay on the phone, but Clint didn't exactly trust his instincts right now.
His first impression was looking behind the guy who entered to see if there was someone else behind him. Maybe the real doctor had just his intern to collect some date? That scrawny guy with the coke bottle glasses didn't look older than 18 and definitely couldn't be older than 25. But there were two or three titles on his badge and the name was the right one as Clint could see when the man neared.
Confused, he looked up to meet the guy's gaze and promptly he was welcomed with a knowing grin. He had to fight not to blush immediately. Obviously he wasn't the first one to be surprised at the unusual sight of someone so young that successful in such a prestigious sector.
"Tomasini. Thank you two for calling me."
The guy didn't bother with all these titles when he introduced himself and offered a quick but honest, warm handshake. Clint's reservations quickly faded as he returned the favor and gave the man Natasha's and his names for good measure.
Still he felt the already familiar cold grip on his throat again when the guy took his seat, astraddle against the low back rest, and fidgeted with the file he had brought, doubtlessly Natasha's data from yesterday. He didn't want to hear, didn't want to talk about it. Though he knew it was perfectly stupid and childish to procrastinate this shit, he couldn't stop his mouth from talking, as it happened so often.
"You don't look very Italian."
It was true, though. The guy was unusually pale, a hint of sunburn vanished under the collar of his perfectly neat and white but crooked worn coat. Not exactly the bare chested, bronze skinned gigolo you expected to meet on an Island like this.
He had that typical amused, friendly and slightly condescending grin though Clint had gotten so used to while living here. "Well, neither do you." For a moment they glared at each other with that very wry grin. Then the guy chuckled, short enough to keep the very serious situation just that but not make it any more dramatic than necessary either. It wasn't, not yet, no reason to make it even harder for themselves. "You're right though, my family's roots are in South Tyrol. Probably more German and Austrian blood than anything in here." He shortly knocked against his chest and went beck to read the file then, or at least pretend to. "That a problem?"
"Of course not." Great, now Clint was blushing. God, he should just keep his mouth shut. "I just was..."
"You're nervous and uncomfortable. Understandable but uncalled-for. We're only here to scribble down the facts today." The doctor gave him a last, rather fleeting smile but turned his attention to Natasha then. "I should start by saying that you're further along than my colleague told you yesterday. There's still time", he added quickly before even a spark of worry could bloom in Clint's heart. "But we still should get moving. If you're ready..."
He nodded shortly at the room-divider in the corner, right next to the waiting examination chair, where she could undress discreetly.
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Date: 2014-06-17 12:42 pm (UTC)From:And maybe help her through that difficult first conversation. Or send that doctor back where he came from if he turned out to be a moron after all. He had seemed okay on the phone, but Clint didn't exactly trust his instincts right now.
His first impression was looking behind the guy who entered to see if there was someone else behind him. Maybe the real doctor had just his intern to collect some date? That scrawny guy with the coke bottle glasses didn't look older than 18 and definitely couldn't be older than 25. But there were two or three titles on his badge and the name was the right one as Clint could see when the man neared.
Confused, he looked up to meet the guy's gaze and promptly he was welcomed with a knowing grin. He had to fight not to blush immediately. Obviously he wasn't the first one to be surprised at the unusual sight of someone so young that successful in such a prestigious sector.
"Tomasini. Thank you two for calling me."
The guy didn't bother with all these titles when he introduced himself and offered a quick but honest, warm handshake. Clint's reservations quickly faded as he returned the favor and gave the man Natasha's and his names for good measure.
Still he felt the already familiar cold grip on his throat again when the guy took his seat, astraddle against the low back rest, and fidgeted with the file he had brought, doubtlessly Natasha's data from yesterday. He didn't want to hear, didn't want to talk about it. Though he knew it was perfectly stupid and childish to procrastinate this shit, he couldn't stop his mouth from talking, as it happened so often.
"You don't look very Italian."
It was true, though. The guy was unusually pale, a hint of sunburn vanished under the collar of his perfectly neat and white but crooked worn coat. Not exactly the bare chested, bronze skinned gigolo you expected to meet on an Island like this.
He had that typical amused, friendly and slightly condescending grin though Clint had gotten so used to while living here.
"Well, neither do you."
For a moment they glared at each other with that very wry grin. Then the guy chuckled, short enough to keep the very serious situation just that but not make it any more dramatic than necessary either. It wasn't, not yet, no reason to make it even harder for themselves.
"You're right though, my family's roots are in South Tyrol. Probably more German and Austrian blood than anything in here."
He shortly knocked against his chest and went beck to read the file then, or at least pretend to.
"That a problem?"
"Of course not."
Great, now Clint was blushing. God, he should just keep his mouth shut.
"I just was..."
"You're nervous and uncomfortable. Understandable but uncalled-for. We're only here to scribble down the facts today."
The doctor gave him a last, rather fleeting smile but turned his attention to Natasha then.
"I should start by saying that you're further along than my colleague told you yesterday. There's still time", he added quickly before even a spark of worry could bloom in Clint's heart. "But we still should get moving. If you're ready..."
He nodded shortly at the room-divider in the corner, right next to the waiting examination chair, where she could undress discreetly.