The clinic was silent for a moment after the knock, before becoming alive with the sounds of grumbling, rustling, and thumping. Shortly afterwards, the door flung open, nearly clipping the priest in the head as he focused on his basket. Alex's sullen eyes glared down at the blond man, seeming to have just awakened from a deep sleep. His usually rather wild hair was nothing short of spectacular, a fiery explosion of red going in all directions as a huge yawn escaped the doctor's lips.
"Joel, what part of 'don't be my alarm clock' was so hard to grasp?"
The doctor trundled back into the clinic, a baggy green hooded sweater pulled over his thin frame as he sat down on an overstuffed arm chair, fingers on temples as he contemplated going back to sleep. He knew the priest would enter the house, ignore his complaints, begin making something that was nothing even remotely close to what could be considered breakfast *except in obscure European nations*, and strike up a conversation. It almost seemed like the man believed it was a mission straight from the Harvest Goddess to push the doctor to his mental limits.

The clinic itself was divided into two parts. The entry lead to a pair of stairs in the back, which rose up to become the actual clinic itself. Clean, orderly, pristine. A few paintings here and there, since a few patients said the actual examination room felt...cold. The lower half was Alex's home, an older looking home crammed full of notebooks, stray papers, jars of medicine and anatomical diagrams. Medical textbooks littered the entire area. His bed was the only flat surface not dominated by notes and papers detailing medical conditions and observations he's made from various experiments. In one corner, an overgrown plant with blue flowers stretched towards the window. The doctor's kitchen was cramped, and Alex's eyes stared sullenly at the priest as he set about the task of making the already horrendous act of being awake in the morning aggravating through an unbearably overpowering sense of confidence and optimism.

"....just cranberry juice for me, you always make something weird and intense for breakfast..."

The doctor reached one hand out, grabbing a worn out notebook. His planner and schedule. He went over the appointments he had for the day, quirking a brow when he saw just one afternoon check up. Then the list of medicinal deliveries. Cold medicine here...vitamins there...the regular hang over remedy for Nuka....a side note caught his eye.
"Social Obligation: Meet new farmer."
He grimaced at the thought. But the town was close knit, and farmers were notorious for getting hurt and overworking themselves. Best he make contact now to make sure the new citizen didn't make his situation worse by avoiding him out of shyness or...some other weird emotion Alex didn't understand. The green eyes flicked up to Joel, who had been monologuing for some time now. Alex learned early to ignore most of his spiels.

"The new farmer's first official day is today isn't it."

The remark was less a question, more a statement to stop whatever highly descriptive speech the priest was in the middle of.