Underneath it was something faintly sweet.
Greg wrinkled his nose.
“Nasty, right?”
Leo stared at the pens in my scrub pocket.
I asked, “Does it burn?”
“No.”
“Sting?”
He shook his head.
“What does it feel like?”
Leo took a moment before answering.
“It feels heavy.”
Greg shifted beside the bed and checked the steel watch on his wrist again.
Everything about his behavior seemed organized around the same priority: getting out of the hospital as quickly as possible.
I needed space between him and Leo.
Not enough to start a confrontation.
Just enough to see whether the boy behaved differently when Greg was farther away.
I told Greg he needed to stand against the far wall for pediatric exam clearance.
There was no such rule.
He looked at Sarah.
For half a second, I could see him deciding whether she believed me.
Sarah’s expression never changed.
Greg moved to the wall.
