The doctor chuckles, but his left eye twitches a bit. “I see. Well, let’s have a look at what brought you in?—“
Sean lowers the compress.
“Holyshit!” the doctor cries, stumbling back a step.
Wow. Professional.
Sean cringes. “Is it that bad?”
“Your eye isgone.” The doctor’s professional composure has completely evaporated. He stares at Sean’s face with the kind of horror usually reserved for crime scenes. Then his gaze drops to Sean’s shirt—a Lupe Tau fraternity tee, because of course Sean grabbed the most obvious thing from the pack house on our way here—and his expression shifts to suspicion. “I thought the fraternities had toned things down after that little minotaur incident last Hell Week.”
“It wasn’t frat related,” Sean says quickly. “It was?—”
I glare at him. Hard.
Sean’s eye darts to me, then back to the doctor. He swallows. “A blender?”
Behind the doctor’s back, I smack my hand over my face.
“Ablenderdid that to you?” The doctor sounds like he’s not sure if he should call security or a psychiatrist.
“I was making a protein shake.”
“With what,chainsaws?!”
“No.” Sean tilts his head thoughtfully. “But that’s a sick idea, Doc.”
“The blender was defective,” I cut in, desperate to salvage this. “Freshman witch from a rival frat put a hex on it. You know how these things go.”
The doctor is clearly suspicious. His cat-shifter instincts are probably screaming that we’re full of shit. I at least had the presence of mind to shower off the werewolf’s scent before we came, and sprayed enough scent masker that we probably smell like… well, we’re getting ready for a date.
The situation is still suspicious as hell, even if Sean wasn’t the world’s worst actor. But this doctor probably deals with supernatural college students lying about their injuries on a daily basis, because after a long moment, he just sighs.
“Indeed.” He snaps on a pair of gloves with more force than necessary. “Well, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about the eye. It’s completely destroyed. But I can clean it up and try to prevent infection.”
“Cool.” Sean nods like he’s being told about a minor inconvenience rather than permanent maiming. “Can you make sure you leave the scars, though?”
The doctor stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “Why on earth would you want me to dothat?”
“I mean, if I gotta lose my eye, at least I’m gonna get a sick scar out of it.” Classic Sean reasoning. His expression softens a little as he adds, “And there’s nothing wrong with scars.”
My throat tightens.
Regina.
Of course.
She hates her scars. Enough to hide them, even now. Even from us.
And Sean, being Sean, sees this as an opportunity to make her feel less alone. I guess there’s a reason I put up with the giant idiot, after all.
“Hey, Doc, can I get a script for erectile dysfunction while I’m here?” Sean asks, immediately making me second guess that reason.
The doctor pauses mid-glove-snap. “Do youhaveerectile dysfunction?”
“Hell no. But we’ve got a hot mate and a four-hour erection sounds fuckingawesome.”
The doctor’s eye twitches again. He takes a slow breath. “I’ll be back with some supplies. And some Valium.”
