Dr. Michelakis had a moustache to rival Yosemite Sam, and deep brown eyes which expressed a lot of sympathy. He tugged on one of the face caterpillars and leaned forward.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, in his thick Greek accent.
Adalia leaned back in the plastic chair at the front of his desk and laid her hands over her belly. “I’ve got a tummy bug or something. I keep throwing up and I feel a bit sweaty and weak.”
The good doctor squeaked back in his chair and studied her, gaze sweeping over her belly and then to Trent.
“Alright. We take urine and blood sample, then we check to see the problem.”
“How long will it take until we know what’s wrong?” Trent asked, grasping Adalia’s knee and running his thumb along the outside of her thigh.
“Maybe hour or two. Our lab is empty of samples
