Occupation: General physician, medical advisor, and scientist
As a member of FOX, Para-Medic provided medical support to Snake during Operation Snake Eater. In her previous job as a doctor, her incessant chatter earned her the unenviable nickname of "Quack." A hardcore movie buff, although her tastes are widely regarded as being a little bit weird.
Hello, my name is Doctor Clark. You may also call me Para-Medic. Yes, Para-Medic as in a medic who comes in by parachute.
If you need to save your mission data, or if you are in need of any medical advice and information on wildlife, contact me via radio. The frequency is 140.96 and 145.73 respectively.
...Oh right, if you're going to add me as a friend, could you do me a favor and introduce yourself first? Maybe talk a little bit?
I wanna make sure you aren't secretly some alien or anything, long story...
"Yes, doc." While he might have sounded like he was humoring her, Alvin did take the paper and look it over carefully regardless. "Hey, a couple weeks of R&R. I think I can handle that." He'd probably be restive after the third or fourth day, but for now he'd manage. Fortunately, the job at Bass'ken was done, so he had the money to afford to do it too — well, assuming the hospital didn't charge him an arm, a leg, and his scarf when he walked out the door.
He retrieved his coat and scarf, and was just finishing sliding the knot into place, when he glanced back at her with that trademark smirk. "Always best to ask the doc if there are any questions about the prescription, right?" He let his eyes deliberately travel down to the last line on the paper, then waved it at her. "So ... is this an invitation?" Obviously teasing.
He had the grace to look a touch sheepish as she reminded him to take it easy, with a smaller-than-usual shrug that seemed to say, all right, all right. One corner of his lip curled up in amusement. "You want the whole fish story? Be careful, might get bigger the more I tell it." Obviously sarcastic. "So there I was ... " One expressively sardonic wave of the right palm, and he did actually launch into the story, but a bit more subdued. "It didn't look like a big job to begin with. Animated fishing lures are nasty little things, though, and I couldn't blame Old Man Logan for not wanting to take them on himself. I sent him home and cleaned up the ones in the bait shack, then used it as a bunker to deal with the ones that had managed to get outside. Couldn't get them all, though — some of them went zipping off toward the water like dragonflies."
He shifted in his seat, absently demonstrating their flight path by drawing on the table with his left fingertip, roughly sketching what was obviously the Bass'ken dock. "I went out to take the last few of them down before they got away over the lake and started bugging the people fishing, and one of the boat ropes grabbed me while I was shooting. I'm glad it wasn't smart enough to try drowning me, but I guess it had friends. Ever seen a barbecue basically turn into a pint-sized dragon? Wasn't pretty. It was in there spitting coals at me while I was trying to wrestle loose. Couldn't reach it, had to try to shoot it, and a bunch of the bullets went astray and tagged the trailer. I don't even know if it was animated before right that second, but whatever."
He punctuated the story with another casual wave. "It apparently didn't like that, and charged. Like I said — I'm glad they're not too bright. That rope wouldn't let go, so I dragged it across the dock with me," his finger gestured width-wise, from piling to piling, "and that trailer took the prettiest pratfall you've ever seen, right into the lake. Snapped the rope, dragged me halfway down the dock, and even after it went in the water, it still tried to come back after me. Good thing they don't take too well to being submerged; a couple solid hits finished it off after that." The right arm, this time, mimed a chop, slash, and finishing thrust.
He eyed the doctor speculatively. "And that's the story. Don't believe me, do you?"