The examination was thorough but hurried, Doctor Reyes moving around Pierre with the cautious efficiency of a man who had learned that speed was often the difference between competence and catastrophe. His hands remained steady despite the slight tremor that betrayed his nerves, his questions clinical and appropriate. He checked Pierre's ribs with gentle probes, listened to his breathing through a worn stethoscope, examined the healing cuts on his arms with the kind of attention usually reserved for defusing bombs.
But when Valerio shifted closer, leaning against the doorframe with deceptive casualness, the doctor's breathing grew shallow. His responses became more clipped, each word chosen with the care of a man who knew that the wrong phrase could have consequences far beyond a medical consultation.
"Well?" Valerio's voice carried the weight of judgment day, smooth as honey but with an undertone that made the doctor's shoulders tense.
