“You have gotta be fucking kidding me.” Evan muttered to himself as he watched, yet again, the one and only Barty Crouch Jr. saunter in to the doctor’s office- his office.

“Thats the third time this week, Crouch.” he grumbled, his eyes taking over Barty’s split lip and dark, purplish bruise forming around his eye, along with a cut on his arm. Evan didn’t know what Barty got up to in his free time, and frankly didn’t want to. (Well, he actually really wanted to know what Barty got up to in his free time- but Evan also was a medical professional, and couldn’t exactly do that. Unless he found a loophole, like finding him outside of work- which was a little difficult, seeing as Barty’s apparent favourite place to go was the doctor’s office with a new injury for Evan to fix.)

“You know you love helping me, dont’cha? I’m your favourite patient I bet. You’re probably so glad I never eat apples. Get it? Cause ‘an apple a day-“

“Can you shut up and let me see your cut, Crouch?” Evan interrupted, rolling his eyes at Barty’s rambling. Yeah, there was that whole ‘doctor-patient trust-be nice shit’ and all that, to help with care and stuff. Of course Evan was a good doctor. He was a great doctor, with many awards and honors and diplomas and such. He also didn’t feel like being a goody-two-shoes in front of Barty. Yeah, he’d insult him all he wanted, and Barty’d still come back. The man really was like a puppy- but don’t let him hear you say that.