Intheic’swaitingarea,anoldwall-mountedfanswungbadforthwithasteady,rhythmiccreak.TheACwassetlow—fortableformostpeople,maybe—butforCra,burningwithfeverandshiveringfromchills,ituretorture.Instinctivelyshehunchedhershoulders,ingherarmsaroundherself,tryingtoholdontothedry,weakheatinsideherbody.
“Um—hey,”thehetertappedonthegssandhandedElianShenaclipboard.Cra’shealthinsurancecardwasclippedtoit,alongen.“She’safirst-timepatienthere.Couldyouhelpherfillouttheinitialintakeform?”
Eliantooktheclipboardandwalkedbacktothebench,sittingdownbesideCra.
Heturnedhisheadandlookedatherprofile—twounnaturalredbloomsonhercheeksfromthefever,lipscrackedandpeeling.Theundercssmanwhonormallypushedupherrimlessgssesandmockedhimwithcalm,rationalsarowlookedfragile—likegssthatwouldshatterifyoutoucheditwrong.
Eliaasileh,uncappedthepen,andbaheclipboardonhisthigh.
“LinChu-Qing初晴,don’tfalsleep.Stayawake.”Heloweredhisvoipurpose.Theusuarroganhistonehadbeenstrippedaway,leavingonlyalow,steadycalm.“Weofillthisout.IcopiedyourIDnumberfromtheinsurancecard.Youswertherestoutloud.”
Craliftedherheavyeyelids.Herunfocusedgazedriftedtothehandholdingthepen,andshenoddedfaintly.
“Birthday?”
“…Marchfifth.”
“Bloodtype?”
“O.”
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