13 January, 1895 — Dempsey Estate*

Don Juan seldom read the paper, instead relying on the people around him to alert him to anything it contained which was actually useful or interesting. He tended to hear about most things, just after the fact... or if he didn't hear about them at all, well, he'd never been inclined to miss it. Someone was reading the paper right now, but he was more interested in his pastry — which was really a show of his great disinterest in the paper, because he wasn't very interested in the pastry at all. His stomach had been unsettled more or less continuously for weeks, and as a result he'd become distrustful of anything with a taste. He was picking at the crust, pulling it off bit by bit into a pile of golden flakes on the plate, rather than taking a bite. The breakfast table smelled fine. Eggs, coffee, tea. Nothing turned his stomach. He still mistrusted the pastry.

The person with the paper was talking about the booth in Diagon Alley. He remembered it, even though he'd only been there for a moment. Odd little thing, with the strange sign. He'd had a chocolate. He didn't add this to the conversation. Don Juan continued to peel layers off his pastry. There had been raspberry jam in a well in the center of it but now he had destroyed enough of the exterior wall that it was exposed on one side, a concealed glob that still held its shape in defiance of gravity. This should have been enough to put him off of it if he was being squeamish, but it didn't affect him. Food had mostly been fine, actually. The thing that most reliably made him ill were his various indulgences — but he was suspicious because it was all of them. Potions, opium, mushrooms, concoctions. He could barely get them down before he was throwing them back up again.

The conversation went on and someone mentioned that people were being asked in to come into the Ministry if they were affected. Suddenly it clicked for him, and Don Juan sat up so forcefully he nearly fell out of his chair. "That's me," he exclaimed. Fucking hell!

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* Open to anyone who might be at the Dempsey estate in the morning. I'm also willing to change locations if Don Juan might casually hang out at your house (/club/etc) in the morning!

  

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MJ made this <3

Nat often worked the night shift when nobody else did. She had no family at home to be responsible for, had no reason not to when she could easily sleep during the day in her quiet townhouse and other people had other obligations to take care of. Besides it was often quiet, their more long-term patients usually the only ones to worry about. Sometimes she even did night shifts in the emergency ward, just to change things up and keep her on her goes.

Last night had been quiet in Magical Bugs and she'd spent most of the evening making potions and stocking up some of their more-often used remedies and antidotes. That was the other thing she enjoyed, getting to work on that end of things. In fact, it had been quiet enough, that Nathalie didn't feel like going home to her equally quiet home yet either, so instead of flooing into her own parlor, decided to see if Phyri was awake yet. It wasn't odd for her to come in to breakfast at the Dempsey table and she hoped that her presence was never a nuisance, so she didn't do it often, but she would have much rather had some real human interaction before she truly became some sad spinster shut in.

It wasn't as busy at the breakfast table as she would have though and with no Phyri in sight yet, she settled in with some tea and a small plate. She wondered what the staff thought of her sometimes-presence, but since nobody had ever said anything, she wasn't going to worry about it too much. Curious to know what was going on in the world, Nat picked up the paper and the first thing that caught her eye was the article on some suspicious candies in Diagon Alley. "Oh I'm glad I'm not in the Potions ward, those candies will be hard to figure out even with samples." She said mostly to herself; surely the chocolates had to be some potion, right? Maybe a charm? Still not her department and for that she was glad. It would be a nightmare to figure out.

When Mr. Dempsey exclaimed something in response, Nat folded the paper down and looked at him. "Oh dear," was all she had in response. Maybe she would be taking a look after all.

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Miss Jennings folded the newspaper down and looked at him with concern, and Don Juan felt immediately conspicuous. He glanced around the table to see whether anyone else was looking at him that way before deciding how to respond, puffing his cheeks out and raising his eyebrows while he considered.

"Oh, no," he decided. Miss Jennings was the only one who looked concerned — or at least she looked the most concerned, which perhaps wasn't a surprise. His family were used to tuning out most of his antics, unless they were the sort that would get them disinvited from society parties for the subsequent weeks. If his name wasn't in the headline of the paper, they probably didn't want to bother themselves taking notice. "No, not like that. It's fine. I'm fine. I think." He'd spent the past two weeks throwing up at least once every two days, but if it had an explanation, then it wasn't like he was sick. He supposed now that he had a theory he could test it by taking a bite of the pastry, but probably no one would thank him for it if he ended up losing the pastry on the table or into his napkin while they were all eating. Maybe better to test the theory a little closer to a washroom, just in case.

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MJ made this <3

"You tried one of the chocolates?" Nat determined, it wasn't really a question, though her voice ticked up at the end a little. He certainly seemed fine, if a little peaky. Surely nobody would notice but her. Then again, Nathalie's whole job was working with people who were unwell, so that probably made more sense.

For her own curiosity, and the fact that she wouldn't be able to let it go until she at least did a little examination, Nat asked, "Any unusual symptoms lately? Anything at all?" It didn't even have to be anything obvious. Maybe it was nothing, maybe the sweets were simply a dud and didn't actually do anything, but she would be remiss if she didn't at least look into it a little bit. If nothing else, she could report to the potions ward that she had examined someone and share the results.

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Oh, he'd really gone and done it now. She was giving him the full healer interrogation suite. He wouldn't have been in the least surprised if she had pulled out some sort of intake paperwork for the hospital from the pocket of her robe, had his answers been alarming enough. Check him in for long term care right here at the breakfast table.

"I'm fine. I mean, I did," he admitted, about the chocolates. He didn't think there was much point in denying it, because he might have mentioned it to one of his siblings already (— but then again, maybe it had been Lottie that he'd mentioned it to, and if that was the case he might as well have lied about it because she had almost certainly forgotten it by now. It had been two weeks and the original anecdote contains no dramatic declarations of love or overblown death scenes; how could she be expected to have found it at all interesting?)

"But I'm not sick," he continued, trying to placate her. One of the servants, presently engaged in replacing the partially depleted coffee pot in the center of the table with a fresh one, and whom had stumbled upon Don Juan yesterday having a very bad time of things indeed, made a face. Don Juan saw it and shifted in his chair defensively. He'd chosen the word because he knew she worked in magical bugs and had been trying to dodge out of her area of professional responsibility, but hadn't considered that he was surrounded by people who might have evidence to suggest he was lying. "I'm not sick," he insisted, more to the servant now than to Miss Jennings.

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MJ made this <3

In assessing the situation, Nat had to wonder just what it was Mr. Dempsey was thinking. "Did?" She asked, eyebrows raised. He seemed quite avoidant now and she wouldn't push if he didn't want to tell her. Nat had no right to pry and he wasn't an actual patient, so she wouldn't pester him much beyond what she already had.

"I'm no going to badger you if you're not concerned, but the hospital is trying to keep track of anything that does pop up." Even if he only told her the symptoms of the past, apparently not anything that had been long-term, it would be helpful, she was sure. "So even little things are helpful." Nat would leave it at that if he didn't want to share, but she was curious. It seemed like such a strangely varied set of symptoms people had reported so far and it was tough to discern what actually was caused by the chocolates, but more information was always better than less.

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