“Can I trust what you give me? I know some of what you’ve done.”

“If I hurt you, your father will have my head. I’m eliminating problems, not creating them.”

Hands clasped together in front of her, she nodded.

Interlude 10.z

The hospital was packed with people. It was late and families, single individuals, people who looked like they worked at the same places and hospital staff were everywhere. Some were trying to sleep or keep to themselves, with blankets draped over them or jackets used as improvised pillows, and others were trying to make as much noise as they could.

It was a little bit spooky. Spooky in a way that couldn’t be fixed by the knife he had at the small of his back, beneath his shirt.

There was at least one member of his squad who might be willing to try it, though. They moved as a unit through the rows and columns of people, had to skip heading down one alley of the waiting room because a family was practically camped out on the floor that they would have had to walk down, and split up for a short bit when a bunch of people were called and rose out of their seats, cutting them off.

As the split-up group reunited, he felt his skin prickle, and then his brain prickled, awareness of his own body fizzled into place like the bubbles in cola, pressing against his skin and all of his senses. Where he could normally have paid attention to one part of his body, now he could pay attention to every inch of it.

The fizzling didn’t stop there. It was like something off to the side that he could see, then something he could feel. Plumes that expanded out, until there was more skin, more heartbeats, more air pressing against the inside of chests with inhalations, cool as it passed out of noses. He could feel hairy legs inside jeans and agitation like a constant thing, the heart powerful, the motions of arms and legs strong, deliberate, and imprecise.

A few feet away, he felt clothes that didn’t feel very comfortable at all, cold air wafting up bare legs, the fabric stiff and coarse, a thumb pressed between lips thick with something, teeth biting down on nail, hair tickling neck and face. Her body was wound and bound tight, tense and ready to spring, though he’d never seen it happen. He winced at the pain of the nail being bit too forcefully, shivered at the tickle of hair at the back of the neck. The shiver drew an alarmed kind of attention. Even though she couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see her, her head turned to face him.