Okay, this was getting intense. Amelia sat in Alan's bedroom, her "doctor brain" firing on all cylinders as she flipped through her notes, mentally double-checking every observation from the past hour. The room felt warmer than it probably was, but that might have been because of the way those phoenix eyes of his were locked on her, unblinking, watchful, and far too perceptive for comfort.
Her three little angels sat at the foot of the bed in a neat row, hands folded in their laps in the kind of suspicious silence that only meant one thing: they were plotting. Normally, she would have kept an ear out for what trouble they were cooking up, but right now she had bigger things to handle.
