Natalie frowned as she stood behind the desk and flipped through Dr. Wilson's chart. An abdominal stab wound was a nasty thing, and got worse, depending on how much damage the weapon had done on the inside. In this case, the lung had been punctured; she could only imagine the tight, painful feeling of breathlessness that had immediately followed.
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All of which had put him into a wretched mood, so that by the time he got back to the clinic, the angel was feeling withdrawn and bitter.
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[no time to interact - must sleep]
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