When she stepped into the parlor, Brian had to smile, though every movement of his face stretched and pulled at his wound. Cecilia wore a college sweatshirt so old the stitching had come out and the letters fallen off. Her jeans were washed to a chalk color, and her sneakers came from two different pairs. Her hair was tousled and her face lined with the sleep that was still in her eyes. Brian croaked in greeting, “Here we have what the fashionable doctor is wearing this season.” “I’m not on duty tonight, so I didn’t lay out any clothes.” She knelt beside him and opened her bag. “I knew I should have given you an injection. That oral solution wasn’t going to keep you out all night.” “It wasn’t the pain that woke me. It was Arthur.” The gentleman’s gaze turned furtive. “I say, old chap. That’s telling.” Before Cecilia could speak, Gladys appeared in the doorway and fussed, “Poked the poor man in his ribs,Arthur did. Ought to be taken outside and horsewhipped.”
