"Now open up and say 'Aaah'. All clear! Looks like you didn't eat a radroach after all. Or, if you did, none of it is hanging around your tonsils." Kids these days.<br/><br/>Dr. Morgan Townsend was getting used to these sort of calls. Random and obscure afflictions, things that should not be eaten, anything to get out of attending class and ultimately writing the G.O.A.T. It's as if people have a problem with filling in a ten question exam and having the rest of your life outlined for you. Silly.<br/><br/>"Alright, Jimmy, get off of the table and on to your class. I'm sure Ms. Steele has been missing you all day." Morgan gestured for the young boy to leave medical facility through the main doors. On the way to her desk, the doctor tossed the wooden stick she used to look down Jimmy's gullet into the trash receptacle before taking a seat at her terminal. Looking up, the boy was clearly lingering, looking this way and that. Worst off, he was still on the damn counter. "Jimmy..."<br/><br/>"Okay okay! I'm off, doc. Can... I... maybe get a doctor's note or something?" The boy leapt off the table and splatted infront of Dr. Townsend's desk, a hand outreached as if he were to receive a single piece of paper upon it. He even had the gull to add a cheeky smile to his proposal.<br/><br/>"If Ms. Steele needs to get in contact with me, young man, then he can use the intercom. Whether or not I cover for you and suggest that you had, in fact, eaten an entire radroach the size of your head by accident, we'll have to see. Off you go." Morgan watched as Jimmy shrunk down dejectedly, his hands at his sides, chin slung down to meet his chest. "Quickly now, I may have another patient who has eaten a baseball!"<br/><br/>This was one of the doctor's more exciting days. Nothing critical ever really happens in the vault. Everyone comes in on their scheduled days for their check-ups. A few births here and there, but otherwise, rather dull. Just to make sure that there weren't going to be any other peculiar appointments, Morgan punched her password into terminal to check her schedule.<br/><br/>"Three correct? what does th-- Oh, right, wrong password." It's not often that Dr. Townsend speaks aloud to herself, but when technology comes into the mix (especially these blasted terminals), her fingers don't work quite as well as her mind. Finally accessing her own terminal without being locked out, Morgan browsed through to find that there wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. This vault was blessed without any hypochondriacs. Or maybe they just go to see Gil?