Harper sighed and finished wiping the last drops of sticky congealed maniac blood off his utensils. That was the downside, he mused to himself, of being dead. Your blood sticks to everything. Even minor operations required so much more effort to clean up after.
He rolled his sleeves down and exited the back room of his surgery into the apothecary shop front. He leaned on the counter, lazily running a hand over his brass scales, waiting for someone else to come in. No doubt someone like Lester, stuck in Jezebel again…
A female voice was heard and a 19 year-old girl appeared in his tent. Her left arm was cut and badly bleeding. “Ouch! Are you doctor Harper?” She asked frowning from the pain.
He looked up sharply. A new voice, a female one at that…
“Ah am… ” he said, sauntering out from behind the counter over to her. “An’ you are, lil’ miss? Ain’t seen you around here much.”
He looked at her wound critically, assessing what he could do. The scarlet blood that was gushing from the cut was giving him all sorts of… thoughts.
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