FTEC, Tuesday Evening

[drlambert]

Natalie paced before the front desk, Angel's chart beating a steady rhythm against her thigh as she walked, tapping it absently. She filed anxiously at her thumbnail with her teeth and sighed frequently. As horrible as it was to think, things had been easier while Angel was unconscious. She could attend him, research a cure, and not worry about a confrontation. With him conscious, things were a bit different. And she couldn't not attend to a patient. It just wasn't done, especially one in as grave bad shape as he was.

Turning, she returned to the front desk and put the folder back into the rack. It would wait. It shouldn't, but it would have to. Until she knew better what to do.

[Contents of Angel-Natalie conversation NFB.]