Dr. Armstrong's jaw practically hit the sterile tile floor. He stood paralyzed, his diagnostic tablet slipping slightly in his grip as his wide, horrified eyes bounced between Dahmer's smug face and Malcolm's frozen, ash-pale expression.
"What in God's name... what kind of pregnancy are you talking about?!" Armstrong stammered, his professional composure completely disintegrating. He took a sharp step toward the examination table, staring intensely at the King of Deviloy. "Malcolm! What on earth is happening here? Answer me! Did you... did you by any chance actually sleep with Dahmer Lukas?!"
Malcolm remained entirely silent.
