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An exhausted doctor forces open a heavy metal door. A fake blonde in a black leather jacket and green cargo pants is impatiently kicking her well worn combat boots as she waits to be attended. This is far from the type of appointment a surgeon usually takes, but the dermatologist on call has gone home sick and this stranger’s situation is urgent.
“You said your name is Sylvia?” Christine asks her.
“Lau-Lushton,” the blonde answers, “Solveig Lushton.” The first thing that strikes Christine about Solveig isn’t her fearsome scowl or strange behavior, not even the fact she barely knows her own name. It’s the snake she has coiled around her shoulders.
Christine raises a brow. “You’re here for a snake bite?”
Solveig gives a hesitant nod. The snake blinks icy blue eyes and burrows its black diamond shaped head into her hair. Their reactions are nearly identical.
Christine shakes her head. Last time she checked, snakes didn’t have eyelids. She tries to bury her suspicions as she asks another routine question. “You do know this hospital doesn’t allow pets…especially venomous ones with a history of bad behavior? ”
The snake bares its fangs and winds its green and black scaly body even tighter around Solveig’s neck. “He’s just mad you called him my pet,” she smirks, holding him close. Her blue eyes pierce Christines. “And he stays with me.”
Christine narrows hers. “Where is the bite?” she continues, pretending not to find any of this odd, “May I see it?”
“It’s - it’s on my leg,” Solveig replies. She asks her to specify. “The inside. My upper thigh.” She bites her lip. “Right up near my...”
“Interesting.” Christine crosses her arms. “And how did this happen?”
“I don’t have to tell you that.”
“I’m afraid we’ll need to know what happened to best treat the wound.”
Solveig shifts into a cross legged position on the examination table. “Fine,” she huffs, eyeing the snake. “This one got a bit too frisky during our playtimes.” The snake hisses at her, flicking a poison green tongue. Solveig frowns. “I’ll bite you.” The snake cocks his head playfully and takes her in like his next meal. His keeper sticks her tongue out to mock him. “Naughty today, aren’t we, pet?” she says, bopping his nose.
Christine clears her throat. “Would you mind explaining what you mean by playtimes?” She drums gloved fingers on her arm. “Or should I ask the snake?”
“I think you’ve had enough questions for today,” Solveig seethes, and promptly gets up to use the restroom.
Time passes and Christine passes Dr. Stephen Strange in the hallway. “You won’t believe who’s back again,” she deadpans.
Stephen groans. “I don’t know what to believe these days.”
Christine shrugs and knocks on the bathroom door, more to confirm her suspicions than to collect the urine test she handed Sylvie. As expected, she and her slithering lover have disappeared. Annoyed, Christine checks her schedule to see what’s next. Natasha with a checkup on her back surgery. The one she needed after falling off a cliff in an alternate timeline and getting rescued by a time traveling Steve Rogers. Christine sighs. As if this day wasn’t strange enough.