(no subject)
INT-THE DOCTOR’S LAB-NIGHT
DR. DEVILLE is an old man wearing worn face, slacks and a faded white t-shirt. A single candle in the dark room illuminates the deep creases in his forehead as he hunches over a wooden table, studying a microscope with fervor. Around his upper forearm is a loose gauze bandage, the wound still oozing blood in the clear dotted ellipse of a small jawed bite marks. He straightens suddenly, removing his glasses and wiping them carefully on the corner of his t-shirt. Repositioning them on his nose, the Doctor bends nervously back to the microscope. He pulls the slide from underneath the high-powered scope and, holding it to his face, he examines the fine print. Smiling broadly he reaches to a miscellaneous jar and pulls out a fine tipped pen, marking the slide “cured.” Placing the pen back in the jar he holds the slide in his hand and beams. Leaning in he blows out the candle and leaves the room in darkness. Muffled sounds of STRUGGLE can be heard in the background.
DR. DEVILLE is an old man wearing worn face, slacks and a faded white t-shirt. A single candle in the dark room illuminates the deep creases in his forehead as he hunches over a wooden table, studying a microscope with fervor. Around his upper forearm is a loose gauze bandage, the wound still oozing blood in the clear dotted ellipse of a small jawed bite marks. He straightens suddenly, removing his glasses and wiping them carefully on the corner of his t-shirt. Repositioning them on his nose, the Doctor bends nervously back to the microscope. He pulls the slide from underneath the high-powered scope and, holding it to his face, he examines the fine print. Smiling broadly he reaches to a miscellaneous jar and pulls out a fine tipped pen, marking the slide “cured.” Placing the pen back in the jar he holds the slide in his hand and beams. Leaning in he blows out the candle and leaves the room in darkness. Muffled sounds of STRUGGLE can be heard in the background.