[CLOSED @Sasha] A Little Desperation

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A gentle chime rang through the building, notifying Sasha and his mother that someone had just opened and walked through the front door. He was in the middle of braiding his hair, but quickly stood and walked from the back where they lived and into the office, continuing to braid as he walked. There was an unfamiliar face at the front of the office, pain sprawled across their face. A quick glance told him this man was an amputee with a prosthetic, but still had difficultly walking, and they'd likely come here in a hurry if the state of his shirt was any indication. Off the top of his head, he identified pains at the amputation site as being the most likely reason for his visit, evidenced further by how he currently favored limb. The second most likely possibility was that this man was horrifically ill and probably needed more than his small clinic could provide. The man was clearly incredibly underweight, the cause of which could be any number of things. The clinic didn't have the advanced diagnosing technology of a hospital or fancy doctor's office. They barely had anything past a rather old x-ray machine. If he came for the second reason, he would do all he could to identify the problem, but there was a decent-sized chance he'd have to send him to a hospital. If the inkling came for the first reason, however, Sasha still wasn't going to let him leave without running a few tests and maybe urging him to go to a hospital or see a doctor with a better funded office.

"How can I help you, sir?" His snapped the ponytail around the base of the braid, pushing the hair back behind his shoulder. It was unusual to see an inkling with missing limbs. He was curious, but it wasn't his business and, considering the area, asking questions could be extremely dangerous. On more than one occasion he'd done his work with weapons pressed to his head or throat. He'd rather not give this inkling a reason to pull out a weapon.

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Sasha listened carefully to Khyran speak. He stuttered and paused frequently. Was it a result of the pain he was in or was its source his anxiety? He watched as he grimaced, as his grip on his cane tightened. He guessed pain. It looked like the man's bad days were really bad days. 

"Oh, no, we've been open since dawn and we accept walk-ins." Sasha assured him, "Go ahead and take a seat on the exam tables, sir. I'll be with you in just a moment." He stepped up to the nearby sink and washed and dried his hands before putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Can you please remove your prosthetic so I can take a look at the area?" He asked as he walked over and took a seat, "And can you tell me what medications you're taking along with anything else your physical therapist has you do for the pain?"