cooke-sam - Tumblr blog

[cooke-sam]

❝I’m not saying it’s unuseful. I’m saying humans are not mahines.❞ He was the last to deny he had hired a few dolls himself over time, but the idea of ‘fixing’ someone seemed strange to him. Personally, he wouldn’t want anyone to manipulate his personality to forget the trouble he went through. ❝Art keeps their mental state healthy,❞ Sam answered. He usually was a great talker, but art especially could have him speak on no end.It was a safe topic, nothing that could accidentally slip off his tongue. ❝The tasks are simple enough not to overwhelm the actives, but include enough challenge to keep their mind from self-destructing. It’s like a muscle you’ve to keep training unless you want it to reduce further and further. We say they’re similiar to children, but it’s not quite the truth. We would never be able to imprint a child with the personality and knowledge of - for instance - a technological mastermind. Their brains aren’t in the right stage of development.❞ With a motion of his hand Sam signed the other to follow him. It was always the easiest to see for yourself and the storage was full of the dolls’ latest paintings.

Mouth downturning into a frown, Oren considered his words. ❝Well, I have to agree there’s something very…scavenger-like about seeking out those in need to convince to join a program like this. But Rossum is supposed to help many of them, right? Dr. Rafferty was telling me that there was one Doll here that had PTSD that they’re looking to “fix.” In one light it could be considered preying on those who have gone through terror, but in another light it could be considered helpful. I suppose…❞ Looking around the Art Therapy room, Oren took in his environment. ❝And what does art do to the actives when they’re in a wiped state?❞ he asked, his tone not holding any judgement, but showing a lack of knowledge in artistic disciplines in his curiosity.

[cooke-sam]

Sam only nodded in response. To tell the truth, it itched him to get to the hospital and take a look at the injured officer. Of course, the hospital offered psychological support, but how would any of the therapists know what it was like to be shot, maybe even forever disabled? ❝They do. All dolls have been prepped and collected in the art therapy room. They were given a simple task to occupy their mind and keep them from growing suspicious.❞ Purposely, Sam did not mention the bit of irritation Ivy’s nervous hurry had caused. It wasn’t worth his breath, because quite clearly no panic had spread between the dolls. ❝They’re all ready for imprints and as soon as it’s needed they will be send out within minutes. Delta has already been sent to join Neal, Yankee is accompanying Oren, and Zulu and Foxtrot were taken last to wait at the hospital.❞ The work the team had done was the perfect example why the Manhattan Dollhouse had been asked for help. Without wasting much of Quinn’s time by having her handle everything, the team immediately worked with united forces. ❝Other dolls are being smuggled into the media to keep the wrong information from leaking and again others are sent to ensure safety for people the active might aim for. We only need to figure out what the active wants.❞ 

Mess | OPEN

Sighing, Quinn shook her head and stabbed at her tablet that was giving her up to date information from Nathaniel and Emily, Payton and Michelle, and Ivy and Logan. ❝Neal has been sent to the crime scene to try and determine what happened, and pull any footage under the pretences of an investigation under the FBI. The officers were taken to New York Mercy with minor injuries but they weren’t killing blows. The handler, however, is another story,❞ Quinn said, her tone disdainful. Mr. Black had suffered quite a few critical injuries. ❝The officers attacked at the station haven’t woken yet, however, so we don’t have any information on them as of yet. Do you know if the floor staff has the actives prepped?❞

[cooke-sam]

In times like these there was nothing more important than keeping yourself calm. It was one of the main rules Sam has learned throughout the years in the MI6. It was utterly useless to panic and especially in a place like the Dollhouse it’d only lead to more complications. Much like children the dolls had a talent in noticing tiny changes in your behaviour and get worried by said change in an instant. It wasn’t any difference today.

The sound of someone running  — not only walking a little quicker than usual, but fast running — through the house echoed through the halls and Sam found it incresingly more difficult to keep his fosterlings at ease. “Nothing’s wrong, love,” he assured one of the actives, in one moment smiling sweetly at the doll before dropping the facade as he turned towards one of the guards. Silently he motioned for them to block the door, lock it if necessary, until Sam returned with further commands. 

The Brit left the art therapy room just at  the right moment to see the head of red hair disappear behind some startled dolls and hear her toppling over. Karma. “Morning, Miss Downing,” he said in a sweet, way too sweet tone, “Excuse me my disturbance of your morning jog, but I wondered, if you’re already willing to attract attention, why are you not doing so with sirens wailing and blue lights flashing? I bet it’d get the dolls even more irritated than floating accross the hallways like an ‘elf’ — or however else the animal with the trunk is called.”

F8ck1ty F8ck F8ck F8ck||Open

Ivy was running through the halls at top speed trying to dodge the dolls. She shouldn’t be running. She knew Running was bad. Everyone knew running was bad. She couldn’t upset the dolls. But this was bad! Cymbaline was BAD and Logan was being a Godlike asshole about this and she was trying to track the doll and look fro the glitched programming when the DC programmers used basically a completely different language than her own and she’d spent months learning to unite her code with Logan’s without issues because obviously he would never adapt any of her code quirks so she had to take on his and now she was trying to compress months of work into a few hours to try and get a working and stable imprint that could be used if Cymbeline was brought in that wouldn’t cause stress damage in a possibly volatile state and still trying to keep PTSD style flashes of Charlie and episodic panic attacks and guilt crashes from happening so running was what it amounted to.

With all this in her mind it was no wonder when she face planted right into the house’s hardwood floors with an ooph. “Ooow.” She whined with a wince hoping to GOD no one saw that because that would be fun to deal with. Public embarrassment and THAT kind of panic and fear getting in the way of inter-house or office relationships would be just what she needed. YAY!

[cooke-sam]

If the angered tone in her voice had not been an indication of Quinn’s feeling, her lack of considerration of Sam’s leg definitely was. Not that the Brit minded. As kind as it was meant to be, he despised the ‘unobtrusive’ slowing down of everyone around him. ❝It’s needless to point out their incompetence. Engagements can go wrong, but they put shame upon themselves by letting it take on a dramatic scale.❞ Sam wasn’t liking the idea of sending any of Manhatten’s dolls and handlers to save the day either, but he understood why they were asked to save the music. ❝You’re the best, that’s how. Have you heard anything from the attacked officers? Could they give any information which might hint on the used imprint?❞

Mess | OPEN

❝They come into MY city, disrupting MY House…where is the accountability in it all?❞ Quinn said mostly to herself, although she wasn’t ignoring the person falling into step beside her. ❝One of their actives goes rogue but I am the one who is expected to clean up the mess when we can’t even get a decent relay on what she’s imprinted with. How they honestly expect me to put my actives and staff in danger is baffling,❞ the blonde remarked, shaking her head as she made her way to the imprint room.

[cooke-sam]

“Says the lad lying around uselessy,” Sam replied as he rested most of his weight on the cane and outstretched a hand to help the doll up. He had requested a doll to help him with a special task, but by now he had the terrible feeling of Logan pretending to be funny by imprinting the doll with an annoying teen. He wanted help, not a rebellious son! “Have you rested enough yet?”

[cooke-sam]

❝That’s by far the most positive way to look at this,❞ Sam replied as he kept reading over the list of dolls which were supposed to join art therapy today. He only ganced up shortly to let his eyes run over the other, before going back to the list. ❝Others would focus on the terror and traumatising events these people must’ve gone through to submit to this place.❞

❝They sure do have a lot of amenities here. I can see how people would like to live in a spa 24/7,❞ he said, laughing as he looked around the Dollhouse floor.

[cooke-sam]

Are you a clean or messy person?

“I like to call it an ‘organised mess’. I’m thinking of Wolfgang Koeppen’s workplace in comparison. Impossible to figure out by the first glance, but if you’re willing to work your way through the different layers of notes and papers, you’ll eventually figure it out.”

[cooke-sam]

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Damian Lowell Origin: Damian → English name derived from Latin Damianus, meaning "to tame, to subdue" and euphemistically "to kill", Lowell→ Derived from a Norman French nickname, from lou "wolf" Archetype: The Betrayer Profession: MI6 Agent

IMPRINT INFORMATION

If you’re interested in your doll being imprinted with Damian’s personality, please message me here. The following character brief is divided in two parts. The first explaining how and why Damian was saved for an imprint and in which relation he stood to Sam (in case you’ve not read Sam’s biography). The second being a questionaire on Damian’s original personality. This is not at all how you’d have to play him, but is only meant to give you a basis to build on. The technicians are always in the process of changing the imprint for the better and you can add as many stuff / take it away as you’d like. If you’re unsure, we can always discuss!

CHARACTER BRIEF - PART I

One half of England’s golden MI6 duo, Damian Lowell was the ambitious, obstinate and overly charming partner to Sam Cooke. Some might say they were unstoppable, quickly rising in ranks and soon being handed the cases which were deemed ‘unsolvable’. It could have been perfect, if Damian didn’t have a streak of badness in him. He betrayed not only the MI6 by passing infortmation to the Chinese MSS, he betrayed his long time best friend and partner. Damian shot Sam, knowing Sam had figured out the truth, and fled leaving Sam to die. Before the man officially died however, the Dollhouse made sure to get a scan of the betrayer’s personality. After all, Damian Lowell was part of the most successfull MI6 agents duo. How could the Dollhouse pass such opportunity?

  CHARACTER BRIEF - PART II

What was the best thing in your character’s life? 

Getting assigned to be Sam’s partner. Sometimes in life things just work out perfectly and the duo being formed definitely belongs to these things. They fitted perfectly to each other, obviously showing in their perfect teamwork, their impossible ability to read each other’s minds and they complementing each other. Together, they spent the best years of their lives together.

What was the worst thing in your character’s life?

Watching Sam take off on the scale of success. There was a moment when Damian realised while they still were a team, the one to solve the most mysterious cases was Sam. It wasn’t a suprirse really, Sam spend day and night in the office while Damian still liked to go out and have fun, but it bothered him nonetheless. It made him jealous and when the Chinese MSS asked him to act as an informer, Damian immediately agreed; starting the chain reaction which would lead to his own death. 

Does your character work so that they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

Work is Damian’s hobby. He’d constantly stay longer in the office and work through different cases. He was often considered to be a workaholic, and in the beginning it might’ve been true, but after years of being at the MI6 he started spending more and more time in the office to collect information and pass them to the Chinese MSS.

How many friends does your character have? How many friends does your character want? 

If you put everything you have — all energy, time and passion — in your work, it is no surprise to anyone when you don’t have a lot of friends. Unlike Sam, Damian still was the one to go out every once in a while, have fun and enjoy himself with the handful friends or acquaintances he had, but it never quite was enough for him. He always wanted more, more, more. With friends it was no difference. He’d be only happy when the whole world considered him a friend and more importantly, looked up to him.

How does your character feel about sex? 

Damian always had the urge to take control and in his love- and sexlife it wasn't any different. Whenever he was in a relationship it didn’t last for long, because he never quite found a person who accepted being pushed around.

What would your character give their life for? 

There used to be a time when Damian actually would have given his life for Sam. It was in the beginning of their years and time together, when jealousy wasn’t a topic yet. Over time however, things started to change. He only truly risked his life by betraying the MI6. Towards the end, he wouldn’t have given his life for anything or anyone.

What are your character’s major flaws? 

Jealousy and recklessness, and the deadly combination of both. If it wasn’t for these traits he would still be alive, work alongside Sam in the MI6 and live happily ever after.

What does your character pretend or try to care about? 

Damian always pretended to care for everyone’s well being. It was one of the main rules during a mission: Keeping yourself and the victims out of danger, not risking any injuries, not playing with anyone’s life. He did an amazingly good job of convincing everyone he truly cared, but every once in a while his rude side would slip out and along with it the least reassuring words someone fearing for their life wanted to hear.

How does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project? 

Damian is expected to be a throughoutly good man. Of course, much like every human being he has his flaws, but no one would ever have expected evil to pump through his veins. If you had told any MI6 agent or friend of the golden duo that Damian would try to kill Sam in future, they would never have believed it. Damian comes off as a great man.

What is your character afraid of? 

Death is easily Damian’s biggest fear. He has watched many people die throughout his work with the MI6, sometimes even got someone killed by making a tiny mistake and he has seen the fear in their eyes. It’s terrifying to him. First you die, then you get forgotten. 

Where would your character fall on a politeness/rudeness scale?

On the first look Damian is the most charming man anyone could ever meet. It’s a wrong kindness though. It doesn’t come from his heart, but the desperate need to have people admire him, follow him and respect him. If he notices kindness doesn’t work, he can switch into the pure devil within seconds.

DOLL GLITCH

[ ENTRY 001 ] — Damian’s personality was not able to be captured before he developed the idea of working against his own colleagues and kill his partner. While the Technicians are convinced they have successfully removed said part from the imprint, it has yet to be proofed. Sam Cooke has yet to meet Damian.

THREADS

To be added.

[cooke-sam]

In an instant, Sam’s eyes fell upon the female he didn’t have the pleasue, or pain to meet yet. He eyed her carefully, thoroughly, as though it would give him all the information only the following conversations would give him. She looked dignified, like someone who actually could pull such a job off, but it wasn’t enough for Sam. He out of everyone knew how deceiving looks could be. Sometimes not even your best friend knwe who you truly were.

The moment she spoke Sam’s eyebrows rose in curiosity. Of course, her little stuttering didn’t go unnoticed. If he had had a better day, he maybe would’ve given her a smile to loosen the bit of tension he brought into the room, like this however, he purposely hid the satisfaction the stutter caused him. At least she was respecting him.

“He did indeed request my assistance,” Sam confirmed. He wasn’t even surprised that Logan quite obviously didn’t inform the handler. If you asked Sam, Logan had mastered the art of talking with no end and still not saying anything useful. “This will take however as long as it needs. If you’re convincing this conversation will be over in no time.”

He moved a little closer, extending a hand to the woman for a shake. “My name is Sam Cooke. I’ve the honour to give you the information you need for this engagement and decide whether or not this is a suicide mission.” He didn’t even bother hiding his supicion. He found people always showed themselves from their best side, thought before answering and generally acted improved, when they were under a tad of pressure. “Tell me of your training.”

Suspicion | Victoria+Sam

Victoria let out a slightly undignified squeak as the limping Art Director barreled his way into the room adjacent to where Logan was programming the engagement parameters into the prefect imprint for the circumstances. She hadn’t interacted with Sam Cooke until this moment, but from the whispers she’d overhead among other staff members, he was a force to be reckoned with, a former agent with a past as colorful as the vibrant suits he wore.

Her morning had started out much like any other – a red-eye cappuccino and a low-fat scone on her way to the office, a small mound of paperwork which she completed as efficiently as possible, and a pleasant conversation with Dr. Benton’s charming little brother. After that, she’d sparred with fellow Handler Enzi Li, complained about the ghastly coffee served in the staff break room, and worked through some additional paperwork, which is when she’d discovered the report concerning her latest assignment. It was flagged as “moderate risk”… which indicated it was somewhere between a run-of-the-mill romantic engagement with a little white-water rapids thrown in… and a bank heist. She hadn’t yet been made privy to the details, which is why she’d reported to Logan and Ivy’s suite.

“I-I’m sorry… did Logan ask you to join us?” Victoria asked the irate-looking man. Knowing nearly nothing about his history, she was perplexed about why he would have anything to say that concerned her or the upcoming engagement. “Will this take long?” She really needed better coffee if people expected her to remain classy.

[cooke-sam]

Better Times | Quinn+Sam

@quixoticquinn​

It was on rare occasions that one could find Samuel Cooke as perfectly dressed up as he was today. Black suit, amaranth coloured nails and his usual cane had traded place with a much more elegant one. He looked, speaking with no self-flattery, magnificent. It was a shame almost, that on the inside he felt much different than what the outside let assume. He was happy, but this happiness was accompanied with a strong taste of bitterness and a tad of sadness even. He had carried it in his mouth for a while now, but today was worse. Today was the day.

Three weeks ago the envelop laid in front of Sam’s door and in ostentatious golden writing he had been invited to Alexandra Claire's wedding. Sam expected the invitation, anticipated it even because everyone knew Lexi had dreamed of this day for the entirety of her life, but he had had no idea he'd feel the sting of jealousy. If things had been different, this would be him asking friends and family  to join him on the special day he'd get to marry the love of his life. Now he probably had been the topic of a hotheaded discussion between the soon to be bride and groom, because despite whatever Lexi liked to think it was strange to invite the ex.

Now, if he was a good man Sam would do the groom the favour and be far, far away from the ceremony. If he was a good friend however, he'd be in the seat Lexi undoubtfully saved for him, put on a happy expression and congratulated the couple to their marriage. Needless to say, Sam had fought an inner battle for these last three weeks. To go or not to go, that was the question. To see her excited smile or watch the blank faces of the dolls. To suffer through the typical conversations of ‘What happened to you?’ and ‘I’m sorry to hear of Damian’ or to spend a typical day in the house without anyone daring to ask.

Sam’s decision was simple: He would go, but he wouldn’t go alone. Requesting a doll was an option, but after much consideration he found it a horrible idea. He didn’t want to include the technicians, didn’t want to risk anyone recognising his favourite doll’s face and he wanted someone he was certain could master such a social event, someone he trusted, someone who knew enough to interrupt when the topic turned into the wrong direction. Someone like Quinn DuPree.

His request had been kind enough to allow denying, but at the same time desperate enough to (thankfully) have her agree. Right now, Sam was on his way to her doorstep. Their driver had offered him to go and get her, but of course Sam had dismissed the man. He wasn’t a helpless elder, after all.

Sam stopped in front of her door, rang the bell and waited patiently. When she opened, his first words were no simple greeting or compliment to her appearance. It was the oh so charming: “You still can say no, if you want to.” 

[cooke-sam]

End Date: 03.03.2016

As some of you might know my schedule has been filled to the brim throughout most of this month and unfortunately, it’ll most likely not change in the next one and a half weeks. I’m sincerely sorry for every reply that’s been awaited. They’ll come, I promise. The free time I have will be spend doing my replies and either queueing or scheduling them. I’ll also be checking in regulary to discuss plots if you’re interested in roleplaying with either Sam or Yankee!

[cooke-sam]

“It’s an odd thing to have a partner — no wife, no boyfriend, but a name which years ago was randomly assigned to yours —  and to trust them with your life. There’s a fine line between dead and alive. It takes only seconds to cross and there’s no coming back. You and I, were constantly skipping around it. How many times could you have killed me? How many times could I have killed you? My trust for you was bulletproof! But you… You’re the one who shot me.“

[cooke-sam]

[ Biggest Problem: Leg ] — “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” could not be a less fitting sentence for Sam’s current condition. Everyone knows the man has a bad leg, but no one aside from Quinn DuPree knows how drastic it is. The wound stemming from his partner’s betrayal makes him physically sick. Residue that is still in his leg occasionally forms a clot, making him not only ill but every once in a while causing him to get hospitalised. Sam sticks it out surprisingly well; does return to the Dollhouse no matter how many doctors advice him not to work, but it’s only a matter of time until the injury takes its turn to the worst. Is Sam’s time ticking?

[cooke-sam]

His first reaction when hearing of the Governor’s Ball was a long and heavy sigh, and the immediate decision that Sam Cooke would rather be shot again than go to some stupid ball he’d be spending in a  sitting position, watching the young folk enjoy their time and hold forced conversations. Unfortunately, a friend  — a bloody evil friend — talked Sam into changing his mind. It was a gigantic social event and it was the chance to meet old colleagues, talk about the good old times and get up to date with everything that happened overseas. 

Sam had already been through several conversations with old friends he was genuinely excited to see and a few which he could have left on the spot, and eventually did so with the excuse of getting another drink. He wasn’t a great drinker, even less with the injury than he was before, but god knows he’d take every excuse to leave people he despised. He turned his head when he heard the familiar voice and smiled happily politely at the sight of Alpha. “I wasn’t, actually,” he replied, “I was engaged in London at the time the ball took place last year. Do I seem familiar?” He was genuinely curious how much information the technicians left on this imprint and he sure would take a look if it was supposed to be that way in case something seemed off. “You might have seen me somewhere else. I assume this is not the first event you got invited to.”

The Charity Ball|| Open

All large social events are flooded with same things; cameras, political figures, billionaires, and dolls. Most people don’t realize that many of the stunning men and women floating around events like these are programmed personalities, intended to persuade people to make larger donations, or provide arm-candy to the incredibly rich men and women who don’t have a good enough personality to score a real date. Tonight, at the Governor’s Ball, Alpha was one of those dolls. Except she wasn’t Alpha, she was Imogen Emani. An heiress to a family fortune in the oil industry. With her vague backstory and expensive taste, most people will admit to knowing of Imogen or the Emani empire despite the fact that it is nothing but carefully fabricated lies.

She had just finished making her first round of the night, making sure she touched base with every social circle that was present there that evening. Her glass was painfully dry by the end of it all, so she made her way back over to the bar to top off her drink. She rattled off her order without even making eye contact with the bartender. “Another whiskey. Neat. Top shelf.” She then turned around so her back was leaning up against the bar, looking around to try and spot who she would go strike up a conversation with next. After the bartender placed her drink down in front of her, she took a sip, then turned to the person right beside her. She wasn’t entirely sure if they had met before, “Were you at this thing last year?”

[cooke-sam]

[ The Payment ] — For a long time now, money has not been one of Sam’s main interests. He has been one of the most successful MI6 agents. If he had everything as much as he has money, he’d be the greatest man in the world. Instead, Sam is more interested in the Dolls. He is far from wanting to become one and the technical stuff how one’s able to get rid of their actual personality and replace it with a new one is fairly confusing for a man with few knowledge of the subject, but you can’t deny they’re useful, and every once in a while he brings one of them home instead of money. It does him better service than the addition to his savings.

[cooke-sam]

[ The Magic Of Art ] — If it wasn’t for Sam’s intimidating persona, maybe more people would say the Dollhouse could have saved money by hiring a Chimpansee to teach the Dolls how to hold a brush. It seems useless to many, a simple activity for the Dolls to work on instead of walking around aimlessly. It is a form of controlling them - something Sam won’t deny - but it is not only the Dolls’ bodies Sam keeps an eye on. It is their mentality as well. Art expresses emotions and it only takes Sam one look at a Doll’s creation to see what they’re feeling. The choice of colours, the motives and the different techniques, even tiny things like how much strength his pets use to apply the paint. Everything gives it away for him, and he already has saved not only the Technicians from getting fired for their mistake, but also the rest of the Dollhouse from experiencing a fatal glitch. Simply by noticing a minimal difference in a Doll’s art.

[cooke-sam]

tdrnathanielbenton:

Dr. Benton heard the painful-sounding crash as the man on the sidewalk lost his footing and fell arse-over-kettle onto the ground. It was only when the fallen individual shouted at the nearest passerby that Nathaniel realized who it was - Sam Cooke, the enigmatic former MI6 operative who now served as Art Director. Nathaniel didn’t converse with him on a frequent basis since their areas of expertise rarely overlapped when it came to the Dolls’ physical well-being versus their calm creativity.

For a few moments, the young doctor remained where he was, poised to continue biking towards to the Dollhouse as soon as the street light transitioned to green. He, unlike most of the city, had prepared himself, equipping his mountain bike with snow chains. The ride certainly hadn’t been smooth – especially compared to his road bike – but thankfully he had left early enough to account for the pace of traffic. If he stopped to assist Mr. Cooke, he certainly would be delayed.

Neal would help him.

Nathaniel cursed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. Neal… his little brother, the angelic white knight, foil to the ambitious, intellectual doctor, the black sheep of the family. Neal… who had been revived from a five-year-long comatose state like the Biblical Savior risen from the tomb. Neal would most certainly drop whatever he was tasked with to aid the fallen man in the snow.

Dammit.

“Mr. Cooke,” Nathaniel called out, dismounting from his bicycle and wheeling it cautiously out of the street and over towards the injured pedestrian, “perhaps the subway would have been a wiser course of transportation. Can I be of assistance?”

Nathaniel Benton was one of the people Sam honeslty didn’t know much about. He was curious — as he was with most of his co-workers and Manhatten staff members — but Sam also was reluctant. Getting to know someone always ended with them learning new information of you as well. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course, but the problem with Nathaniel was his job; Medical Adjunct. Sam didn’t need someone with the potential of being a doctor around him, didn’t need them to look at him and know.

“If the subway stopped directly in front of the Dollhouse, it might have been better,” Sam spoke in an annoyed, but not entirely unfriendly voice, “But it doesn’t now, does it? Still would’ve left me to walk and risk the slipping.” Staying home probably was the only applicaple solution to not risk an accidental fall, but obviously that was no option for Samuel Cooke.

”A hand would be quite helpful,” he replied and couldn’t possibly help the bit of bitterniss in his next words, “Standing up one legged is rather difficult.” Even the cane wouldn’t be as helpful as it usually was.