When they arrived the attendant's set the Lorekeeper's litter on top of a table and Doc began to remove her clothing and examine her fully. "There's nothing wrong with me THERE," she said, slapping his hand with annoyance as he started tugging at the drawstring of her skirt. She'd consented to his unwrapping the yards of sari, but wasn't about to allow anything further beyond holding the shreds of her blouse further apart, giving him access to the wound on her chest.
The Chiurgeon checked for vital signs, grimacing only a little, then he checked out her ears, eyes, nose, and throat and grimaced a little more!
"By the way, does this still hurt?" Doc gently pressed against Zakiyah's most recent wound to see if it had fully healed and to discover the full extent of her recovery.
"AAAHHOOOWW!!!!!!" she said, wincing. It was still tender, as the process of regeneration generally left her sore for days afterward. She blinked back tears and slapped at his hand again, having been unprepared for that. "Stop that! Now are we finished? I don't care if you believe me or not, but I must rest, and I cannot rest if you continue poking and prodding me for hours until your curiousity is satisfied!" She reached for her sari and tried to fling it around herself again.
She really didn't look all that well- the combination of her current illness and the anxiety of being separated from her book (and having to depend on War Scribe to retrieve it!) had left her pale and queasy. That, and being leered at by this drowish quack who'd obviously never seen a Vallifreyan in his life, in the middle of a drow encampment full of gawking soldiers, hardly made for a comfortable situation.
