Stefan turned his head toward the office door when he was addressed by an unfamiliar voice. His head then turned upward, so that he made eye contact with Rock. His head tilted slightly, the motion emphasized by the length of the mask hanging off his face, clearly somewhat interested in the newcomer's appearance. "I don't think we've met," He joked. An actual answer came not too long afterward, and he offered the giant a gloved hand. "Yes, I am. I don't suppose you need medical assistance?"<br/><br/>As it turned out, it wasn't so much the giant man as the scrawny, filth-covered one accompanying him. Quite a contrasting pair. Stefan wasted absolutely no time in getting them where they needed to be, namely in the room next to where he actually made the medicines and kept his files. "Mikhail, if you would lend a hand, we've got some patients. Sasha, stay here." He approached the doorway, but Rock's size prevented him from exiting it directly. Not a problem for him, as a quick teleport took him into the hall. A puff of black smoke appeared where he stood, and was gone in an instant, and he now stood directly in front of Ruffus.<br/><br/>Stefan leaned forward, his eyes just visible under the lenses of his mask at the angle he stood at. Immediately, he could tell that the man wasn't in amazing shape. Lacerations, swelling, inflammation of the skin. Frankly, he looked pretty fucked up. "You're lucky you showed up here. A few more days of trying to rough that out, you'd be dead. Come." He turned around swiftly, and walked to the door next to his office's. A larger room, set up with some rudimentary medical equipment awaited. A few wooden frames and repurposed coat racks made up beds and IV stands, while desks and cases lining the walls were filled with prepared medicines and first aid supplies. A pipe lining the wall brought water to a large plastic basin, the spout resembling that of a tap one would see in a garden.<br/><br/>"Pick a seat and make yourself comfortable. First things first, we need to clean you up - both of you. You've got all kinds of dirt in your wounds, and your, ah, 'outfit' smells like it's starting to rot. I'd get rid of whatever's left. Trust me, you can find better here." Stefan removed his gloves and rested them on the tabletop, using the sink to clean off his hands, scrubbing the scarred, uneven skin to make sure he was clean before he went and started operating on someone. Gathering some supplies, he approached the bed that Ruffus had chosen - and just then, a group of Stalkers burst through the door, carrying Viktor and Darren in from their escapades in the lounge.<br/><br/>"...And what happened to them?" He asked, again tilting his head when he noticed that the scaly-skinned stranger was crying. Viktor, in stark contrast, looked as if he was about to have a heart attack. Stefan put his supplies down and raised a finger to Ruffus, signaling that he needed to take a moment to see what happened to the others.<br/><br/>One of the other Stalkers, who helped put Viktor onto a bed, answered by raising the empty bottle of mushroom juice that they had consumed. Stefan took one look at it, then lowered his head and pinched the bridge of the mask's beak in obvious frustration. It lasted only a moment, as he knew he had to work fast to prevent further damage to either of the two. He couldn't imagine they'd had a pleasant experience, as toxic mutant fungi that affected the nervous system could leave one rather permanently damaged.<br/><br/>Stefan immediately gathered two small vials of a clear liquid, corked at the top to keep them sealed. The others, anticipating what was coming next, gathered a pair of buckets and positioned them near the poisoned patients. Stefan worked on Viktor first; his unresponsive state was more worrying than the hysterical sobbing of the stranger. Opening the vial, he poured half of it down Viktor's throat, tossing another one to the Stalker nearest Darren's head so that they could do the same. A few moments later, the medicine took effect, and Stefan rolled Viktor onto his side as about half of his stomach's contents were voided. After that, Stefan sat him up, and while he was clammy, sweaty, and breathing heavily, he seemed much more responsive.<br/><br/>"Am I dead?" He asked, running a hand down his face. His stomach gurgled uncomfortably and he doubled over the bucket, but nothing more came out as of yet.<br/><br/>"No," Stefan answered. "But you damn well might have been. You two drank a month's supply of medicinal base steeped from carefully grown and harvested mutant fungus. Which is very toxic in high doses. It doesn't seem like enough has been absorbed into your bloodstream to cause permanent damage yet, which is why we need to get the rest out before it does."<br/><br/>"Damn," Viktor breathlessly responded. It wasn't clear which part of Stefan's scolding he meant it to be in response to, and when the remaining liquid in the vial was offered, he shook his head. Stefan held it out further, and began speaking again.<br/><br/>"We can do this two ways, Viktor. One, you drink this and vomit. Two, I reach into your guts and then you vomit. There's also the third option: permanent nerve damage. I'd pick quickly if I were you." He held the vial out for a few more seconds, and Viktor, still slightly delirious but steadily coming down from the toxins, didn't respond. Stefan took that as his answer, and thrust his other hand forward. It turned black, more resembling a solid shape of mist than an actual limb from the elbow down, and sunk into Viktor's midsection up to the wrist.<br/><br/>It was an extremely strange and unpleasant experience, not painful, but incredibly uncomfortable. A squeeze of some ethereal digits around his stomach made him wretch the rest of the liquid in it into the bucket, and Stefan drew his hand back, allowing it to resolidify. There was no hint that he'd just done so on either of them, but the risk of any more toxin flooding his systems were gone now. Stefan capped off the rest of the medicine and returned it to the cabinet, then wiped Viktor's face off with a towel.<br/><br/>"You'll be fine. Get rest, water, and once you can handle it, some food. And please, ask before you start drinking things. If it's not at the bar, it's not meant for you." Stefan let the towel sit on the bed next to Viktor, who at least had something of a defense.<br/><br/>"It kind of was," He huffed out, picking up the towel to wipe the corner of his mouth. "The courier with the crate just, kind of set them down for a minute." While he was telling the truth, he still hadn't bothered actually inquiring as to what was in those bottles before he went and downed most of one with Darren. After combing his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at Rock, as well as the other man that he'd brought along, and greeted them with a wordless upward nod.<br/><br/>While his face wasn't visible, Stefan's expression beneath the mask was one of irritation. "You pay someone to make a delivery, and they can't even finish it before stopping at the bar. Ah, it doesn't matter. What does is that you're going to live. Now then, take better care of yourself, and do try to avoid pouring poison down your throat from here on." He patted Viktor's shoulder, then turned away to check the other two out, beginning to clean Ruffus's more obvious wounds out while the others helped Darren ingest the vial of medicine.<br/><br/>Viktor himself stood to empty his bucket at the sink, and upon being given his jacket back by one of the Stalkers that carried him in, he put it back on and left it unzipped. He still felt quite ill, but it was temporary, and a much better side effect to feel than...whatever it was he'd gone through while full of toxic fungus water.