The ambiance in the clinic and grounds around him shifted.
She spotted the miners sit up, some even saluting as he strode toward the demountables.
From the locals, she witnessed eye rolls and resentment stirring.
Whoever the hell he was, he sauntered into the emergency triage area; his presence a jarring puncture in the room’s frantic atmosphere.
He possessed a curated, artificial radiance.
From his platinum-blond hair, slicked back with a glittery oil that caught the clinical LEDs, to his brown eyes, flat and translucent.
Every inch of him gave off an air of excessive wealth; he wore a tailored charcoal jacket of spun silk studded with jeweled buttons.
He was far too pristine, his complexion glistening with a waxy, pampered glow.
His boots were a masterclass in arrogance, mirror-polished obsidian leather so they refracted light.
He scanned the chaos with the proprietary detachment of a man counting stacks of schills in a bank rather than lives in a ward.
With a thin, practiced smile that didn’t reach his hollow eyes, he strode toward a bed where a battered miner offered a desperate, sycophantic grin.
They exchanged handshakes and shoulder bumps as the newcomer sought to get an update from the injured collier.
Moments later, he glanced up with an impatient furrow to his brow.
‘My men are reporting slow service,’ he barked at no one in particular. ‘I don’t want my people bleeding all over this place. You -’ he pointed at Nurse Rehema wrestling with a hover cot, ‘- bandage a few wounds won’t ya? Now. Or get me someone who knows what they’re doing.’
Sheba inhaled, straightening her spine from the bedside where she was overseeing a patient’s wound bandaging, striding toward the unwelcome intruder.
‘Who are you,Sir?’ she called out, her voice dripping with excessive politeness, ‘and who do you think you are ordering my staff around?’
He pivoted to her, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into appraisal.
His eyes dragged over her with raw avarice, lingering where they had no right to rest.
‘Well, hello, beautiful,’ he said, his mouth curling into a self-satisfied smile. ‘I didn’t think medics, especially in this back of the woods, came in pretty mode.’
Her expression did not change.
‘We also come with zero tolerance for bullshit,’ she said. ‘So I’ll ask again. Who are you?’
He reached for her hand, already leaning in, intent on pressing his lips to her knuckles.
Sheba pulled back before he could close the distance.
‘Ty Si’Rhix,’ he said, straightening, his tone facetious. ‘I own Rhixon Mining Corporation.’
‘Well, bully for you,’ Sheba clipped. ‘I’m the Head Nurse. I run this clinic’s operations, and I don’t tolerate bullying or poor manners in my emergency ward. Step outside, and we’ll get your staff stabilized faster.’
He studied her closer, eyes narrowing, no longer amused.
She caught the gleam of resentment in his eyes, the brittle edge beneath the polish.
He did not appreciate being corrected.
He liked it even less when it came from a woman.
A thin, calculated smile slid into place.
