Bovine Beginning [Aoife POV]

Aoife wakes up sore in the best way possible, thoroughly fucked and satiated for at least the coming day. She stretches, nude form gliding against her bedsheets. Jason rolled over and mumbled in his sleep. The red headed doctor strokes his dark hair, reveling in his morning drowsiness. She plants a kiss on his head, and begins her day. A nice hot shower removes the edge from the aches in her sore muscles. The slight sting from the paddling is a memory she fondly recalls.

Refreshed and relaxed, the usual outfit is donned. Green jumpsuit and simple white lab coat for protocol. She slips down to the humble beginning of a lab, documents and reports already piling as applications flood in. Starting a pot of coffee, she cracks her neck and sits down in front of the mountain of paper.

“Splicing the ninth wonder of the world.” She mutters, grumbling to herself as she pours through applications for splice therapy. Most are rejected due psych score; the patient not having sufficient state of mind to undergo genetic modification beyond class b soft tissue adjustments.The second most common was genetic incompatibility, specific patients were requesting samples that wouldn’t graft well to their sequences, more likely to make an aggressive cancer than long term solution. The most frustrating was insufficient sample of the requested splice. The last was the worst to reject in Aoife’s opinion, being the only one truly beyond her influence. After the coffee finishes brewing, she recharges on demand. Time slips as early morning turns to morning. She downs her third cup caffeine jitters finally getting to her, Jason moseys into her lab. His presence a warm relief, he places a plate with her favorite breakfast on the desk next to her completed files. A cream cheese danish with a sliced apple fills the plate. Wordlessly he plants a kiss on her lips and drowsily wonders back out. Clearly more tuckered out from their long night than the doctor.

“Time check 09:17. 14 cases review, three pass screening for psych, and compatibility, of them one fails availability. A shame, haven’t gotten to splice with starfish in ages. Damn military ops snatch the organic ones and the synthetic degrades too quickly.” She reads her own notes, with added expletives and personal opinions added in the silence of the lab. She stands and stretches, part of her back loosens a knot she didn’t know was forming and she sighs content.

“14 down before lunch, 36 more before end of day, so I can clear the current applicants before the weekend.” Aoife rubbed her temples at the coming migraine, frustration building to a fever pitch. “An assistant, I need a lab assistant.”

Aoife then dug into a completely different type of paper work. First was getting approval to maintain a multiple engineer splicing agency through MargoCorp. The company wanted details on details about the kind of splicing she conducted, when, how, where, for what clientele, what insurance the practice would take and so many other questions she hardly heard Jason come in.

“Hey Sugar, You doing alright today? You’ve hardly touched your breakfast and it’s midmorning already. I’m actually awake and you haven’t dropped by my office to tease me for being a slow start yet.” Jason voices his concerns, placing the back of his hand on her forehead a crude way to check her temperature. His hands work on the taunt muscles in her shoulder. She lets herself melt into the touch. “Don’t dodge my question by getting all lovey dovey. C’mon what’s the deal.”

"I need a lab assistant or I'm gonna drown in applications, and the only applicants are a bunch of pervy guys that want free splices. Except her." She says pushing a manilla envelope labeled Samantha Hobbs: grad student of biology.

Jason flips it open and the first thing he sees is a woman with a septum piercing, a scarlet **** hawk, and more tattoos than blank skin. Raising an eyebrow he only has one comment,

"Oh no, the hot goth chick wants to spend 50 hours a week with you. How dour."