Brett looked a bit tired as he sank into the couch. "Pour me a glass of water."
Erin instinctively started to get up, but Brett immediately noticed the bloodstains on her hand.
"Never mind," Brett said, heading toward the water dispenser. "You're too slow. I'll get it myself."
As he filled his glass, he casually asked, "What happened to your hand?"
Erin pouted, glaring at him with irritation. "It's your fault! You burst in so suddenly and scared me, so I cut myself."
Brett cleared his throat as if trying to ease the awkwardness. "You're so jumpy, yet you're a doctor? Aren't you scared of dead bodies? You've been in this profession for years. Surely you've had patients die under your care?"
Erin, fuming, slapped the couch and stood up, glaring at Brett. "I've never lost a patient in s
