Dr. Zhao seemed to have expected this to happen. She settled into the chair across from Neville. Her weathered hands moved efficiently as she pulled out her diagnostic tools, the soft hum of her portable scanner filling the tense silence.
Neville sat rigidly on the sofa, hyper-aware of every pair of eyes looking at him.
"Come closer," Dr. Zhao said with a firm tone.
Neville tilted his face toward her, trying not to flinch as her gentle fingers probed his bruises. The touch was feather-light, yet each point of contact sent a sharp. He caught himself holding his breath and forced his lungs to cooperate.
Dr. Zhao hummed as her scanner passed over his injuries. She recorded data that appeared in her light brain in streams of information. She noted things down with quick, efficient taps.
