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Another night, another fight. It meant a patchy repair job for the time being; Ozzie didn't like to poke at his usual doctor in the three in the morning hour his fights usually ended by. Most of the time, he tried to stay away completely. It did no good to bother to good doctor each time he stubbed his toe or broke a ail (not that he had pretty nails). Even despite that, twice a month or so he had to drag himself to a little office crammed with herbs and a tiny little physician that had the power to put him in his place with a single Look.

Ciar found it all rather hilarious. Being barely six in the morning meant they didn't have to worry about looking too odd, a boy and his, er, deer. Ciar wandered in front of him with the same steady patience as always. He liked to give his human the excuse of 'my deer is slow' if he felt bad about the pace.

"Doctor?" At least, he tried to say it. You squawked at him when he stepped in, making the already limping man jump with a muttered hiss. Ozzie fishedd out a treat from his pocket and offered it to the bird with two fingers and a thumb - the rest of the hand had been awkwardly wrapped already. His pants and coat hid the rest of the damage, though he supposed the dark mess of his left eye said enough, along with the cut on his forehead. "Hello, You."

Ciar scraped his horns on the doorway. Hello, office.

"Tktk." agreed Ozzie. He wriggled his fingers against the rooks little beak in some awkward pet of affection. If he had to have a bird going all detective on his fingers, no harm in pretending he didn't fear for his life at the hand of his physician in the meantime. He figured it to be a small miracle the bird didn't scent blood all over him and decide to leave no warning for other trespassers.

Three fingers and two bound up catastrophes pulled back from the rook with the same measured care one would remove their fingers from a mousetrap. You was very sweet and all but he was, in the end, a hungry animal that Oscar had less than provided for.

"But I won?" He offered out as if that made it any better to the grumpy healer. Ozzie shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sheepish. It took him a few seconds of hesitation before he finally sat, right leg stretched out a bit stiffly. "Took his foot to my knee, though, and-- deer." From his position near the door, Ciar snorted, his dark nose edging in to sniff at the room. Oz ignored him.

Tiberius headbutted. Ozzie squeaked back in surprise rather than indulging a little one. He reached out automatically to rub at the little ones head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his pain.

"He's a very cute deer. Where did you get him?"

Ozzie took the time to look up and away from the shining ray of wonder that was Tiberius to smile at Cordel. His mouth had an impressive stretch to it for all that only the faintest sliver of white showed. "Not all of us are made to be the most effective doctor this side of Palleside." Flattery? Of course. Granted, this was Cordel and likely to be met with a scowl or a flat stare, so he dropped his eyes to the squeaking wee dragon.

The smile turned to a laugh, one made louder by Ciar's snort at the hyper youngling. The stag tried to wedge himself in and failed completely, unused to doors that his Chosen did not open for him. He settled back anyway, staring inside with big expectant eyes. Ciar could wait. It wasn't as if Oscar would leave without him. ... even if the large man scritched at the small furry head and behind the ears, cooing at Tiberius despite how it pulled at his face.

"Who's the good little deerlet? You are. Yes you are. Such a handsome boy." He stopped just shy of baby talk. Had he not been a deer, Ciar would have rolled his eyes. It took Oscar a minute to realize Cordel spoke to him and not just the adorable little brat getting pets. "Lucky. Ciar came as a pretty palm sized wood thing. He was about this size when tiny too. And now look who's a big stag, are you going to be a big stag? Yes you are!"

Luckily he'd already looked back to Tiberius.

The large man hesitated at the question. His chin tucked in to hide his eyes from the prying view of his doctor, hand busied with the hand shoving Tiberius. Another smile curled his lips, hand fanning down to scratch at his neck as well. "Sorry, little guy. You got the treats and I don't think you've liked them." But avoiding Cordel's questions meant being asked again, and agrier (or at least with more disapproval), so the puglist sighed. It took another minute to look back up at Cordel, left eye a mess of black and blue, swollen nearly shut. He'd managed to keep it somewhat blocked before with the angle of his head but straight on... well, it wasn't pretty.

"S'rather bad. I was hoping you had something stronger for bruises, to get it down? I mean..." His good leg shifted, foot shuffling on the ground of the office. Tiberius, with his head out of the pocket, earned himself a chin scratch instead. "With how my right eye is, the left being like this isn't really good. 'M having a hard time seeing at all until it goes down."

And that terrified him. One eye going to s**t was bad enough, he could deal with having just one. Opening his eyes after the doze post-fight to find the right side of his vision as cloudy as ever and the left side only open a slit and half hidden by his eyelashes sent the puglist into a full fledged, silent panic.

"Or maybe at least clip my eyelashes? They aren't helping. Ciar, well, his little toy looked like him. I believe in spirits and things, can't just go around doing that then going 'eh, coincidence'. We'll chalk it up to me being stupid and scrambled." He paused. "Either way he's an entertaining little thing. Getting sleep with him around?"

Ozzie ducked his head to once again shy away from Cordel and his Mighty Stare, pink already settling in along the curves of his ears and cheekbones. He squirmed as if Cordel caught him with his hand in the cookie jar (or worse). "Promise I won't go following you into a back room anyway, it's alright." He attempted to joke even as Cordel wandered away and busied himself with the ego on stilts. "You're a good little fawn."

The cooing lasted only a second longer. Cordel appeared with snow; delight near twinkled in his smile before he hissed and stopped like a normal person. Oscar thrust out his wounded hand and made a soft, happy noise when the cold hit the bandages enough to hurt and then numb. He pressed it to his eye. "I don't know if you sleep, s'not like I go about imagining peoples bedtime routines. Who's to say what life can do."

Big shoulders rose and fell in a hapless shrug, Oscar lifting his hand on Tiberius to peer down at the oddly colored fawn with his not-exactly-good eye. "Food? Ha! The thought of water made me feel sick for a while so I just didn't bother. Are--" Ozzie paused and sniffed the air like a heathen. "Are you making me fruit?"

It was really good for everyone in the world that Tiberius didn't have access to the bandaged hand; the lack of deer-pressure and abundance of ice kept him contented, hand pressing it closer. He rubbed behind his ears, hand large enough to cup the back of Tib's had to scritch with his blunted nails as requested by the master himself.

"I forgot how small they are." He murmured, momentarily distracted from Cordel. The puglist blinked up with the uncovered eye and grinned, sheepish as could be. "That's why I come and bother you so often. It's sad thinking properly is so rare but you're the only one. I'd have parasites sticking to my face anywhere else."

Oscar shuddered at the very thought. He eyed the pineapple warily but shrugged, settling down in his chair further to continue lavishing attention on the deer. Snow-water dripped down his face.

"Eh? Oh - yes, of course. You showed me twice."

No matter what anyone liked to think of those gross bare-knuckle boxers and their barbarian ways of pulverizing one another's face in, as a whole they generally liked to keep in one piece. Over the few years he'd been eating fist, Oz witnessed too many men get sick and rotten from the inside out because of improper medical care. There were reasons why their coaches made them wipe off their injuries before wrapping them.

"Arnica, chamomile, witch hazel, tincture it with a tablespoon and a cloth, cold compress." He repeated back, every inch of him the dutiful patient. Something tiny and adorable butted up against him, black and white and cute all over. The freckled man blinked and looked down, half tuning Cordel out in favor of scritching gently at one of Tiberius' shoulders.

Tiberius stared at Cordel. Oscar, slowly, looked at Cordel is well. Deer and Chosen had a staring match. Tiberius won. The puglist braced himself for the inevitable manparts-to-hoof action, shoulders hunched and face squished in like a pug. It never came. One dark eye slit open to look at the amazingly adorable little deerlet on his lap.

"Ciar damaged me multiple times when he tried to do this." Ozzie scratched Tiberius behind the ears. Even the attempt at carelessness couldn't stop the wide grin on his face, the sort that showed gum and missing molars. "He's like - he's like one of those fluffy little pillows you see proper young ladies with in paintings. But alive. And adorable. You're adorable. I don't care if I need a better vocabulary. Dangerous thing, deer on your lap, no matter how small they are always pointy. Did you train him not to maim? Can I keep him? You can have Ciar."