I almost laughed aloud at the color. For the amount of dread running through my veins, it ought to at least have been green. I mean, what kind of self-respecting dreaded, eldritch injection was eighties-girl fluorescent pink?
He sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked at Robert. “I can’t be expected to work under these conditions.”
“You tell him, Doc,” I agreed, wiggling my way between the small bunk and the wall. “You are a medical professional, after all. Duty of care to your patients and all that.”
I had no idea where the words were coming from.
I just knew I had to keep talking. The longer I did the longer that pink s**t stayed out of my veins. And every survival instinct I had said I absolutely did not want to find out what the pink s**t did.
“I’m not a medical doctor,” he told me
