Welcome to Gaia! ::

At Taym's entrance, the doctor glanced up and went very still between one breath and the next. It was a moment easily missed, as the doctor was soon taking his hand, though less for the shaking of it rather than a critical inspection. "Though obviously we're both quite aware of one another, no need for niceties. This is new, and I suppose, somewhat appropriate for a hunter, hm?"

Releasing the hand the doctor resumed his seat. The office was more "executive" than most found on the island, all comfortable black leather and richly gleaming wood. There was a couch and small bar to one side, and from every angle the delicate skeletons of birds sat perched and watching.

"To more immediately differentiate yourself?" The doctor drawled, organizing the paperwork he'd been working on before neatly setting it aside. There was a runic tablet on the desk, but he reached for an ordinary steno pad instead.

"Such would be temporary at best." The doctor smiled, all teeth and good cheer, "So far they've been impossible to scar."

He leaned back in his chair and gave the man a considering look. "Well that, my dear, depends on what you wish to do with it."

"So contain it, then? How noble. Hmm, I suppose the best thing for it would be familiarity with the creature at hand." Rising from his seat, the doctor got up and gestured for Taym to follow as he exited the office. "Come along, duckling, it's a bit of a walk."

He pulled out his phone then and did something rare, he used it to make a call. "Bring them out to the reading room, I'll be there shortly with company." Eventually they reached an elevator, and with a swipe of his care, they were taken to the basement level and then lower, beyond the realm of lighted buttons.

The voice would have been effective to most others, but the doctor's smile was full of false, amused sympathy. "Be my guest, Obadiah."

Eventually they stopped and the doors quietly slid open to a brightly lit white, sterile hallway. One tech was rushing toward the elevator, pausing and nearly stumbling once she realized who she nearly passed by. Taym was shot a look of interested enthusiasm which soon faded as it became apparent that he was just the human hunter, and nothing of real interest beyond that. As the tech continued on after a stuttering greeting, a swarthy, stocky man in a loudly colored bowling shirt passed them by with a nod and wave of a cigar. A jarring note that didn't particularly belong here.

Opening a door, the doctor ushered Taym into a white room with several small shelves of books. One of which would be familiar because it was an exact copy of his own, right down to the books. Sitting at a table were two other Obadiah Thompsons.

One appeared very tidy from his neatly trimmed hair to perfectly groomed beard, straight crease of his pants, down to the neat shine of his shoes. He was reading Childhood in its original Russian. The other was not so much sloppy, as simply put to shade by the man beside him. He was shaved bald with a healthy layer of stubble, a day or two old. This one had activity books for learning to read scattered about him, but for the most part ignored them in favor of drawing aggressively on blank sheets of paper.

The first looked up with a shy but welcoming smile that only grew happier upon seeing Taym. "Oh," he said softly, ducking his head after a moment. "Hello, Original."

The other looked up, and the frustration on his face was very briefly replaced with something that could only be described as murder.

"Take several." The amusement was palpable.

Disgust filled the second clone's features while concern overtook the first. "Do you need something to drink?" He was already out of his seat, "Here, sit down."

"It will just reattach," the first explained, voice remaining quiet, though with a certain carefulness. "I would prefer not to be called an it, though. Taking away the humanity of a proper name is how monsters are made. I am Ezekiel."

The other sneered silently, and flustered, the first went on with obvious discomfort, "He prefers to be called 7."

"Talking to me through another person won't make me any less here," Ezekiel insisted, an edge of exasperation entering his voice. His eyes slid to the doctor who gestured for him to go on. "This is one of several rooms we have, and by far the most preferable outside our own rooms." 7 made an abrupt, angry sound. "For myself at least," the other corrected.

"This one is to provide me with my focus," he tapped the book. "And also to teach 7 to read so he can better communicate.

7 gave Taym a toothy grin, his teeth covered in a thin sheen of blood.