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He opened the case and took out ten blood samples in tightly sealed test tubes, which he neatly sorted into the cabinet.
Whose samples were these? I had a hard time believing they came from a human being...
“You like to stare, don't you?”
I flinched and bit my lower lip, grateful that Quentin didn't turn around.
Just hearing his voice was enough to throw me off balance.
This wasn't just my professor.
He had given us instructions at the beginning and talked to David repeatedly in between. But now he had spoken to me for the first time.
He closed the cabinet and walked over to an examination table, where he set down the case and filled it with empty test tubes before setting it aside.
“And you don't like to talk.”
Again, I bit my lower lip. I wouldn't be surprised if there were paper-thin bite marks there.
“I...” I began, brushing the loose strands of hair that had fallen forward back behind my ear.
Quentin interrupted me.
“Come here and sit down.”
He didn't look at me or point to any of the other seats. There was only the examination table, which he could mean, and suddenly panic welled up inside me.
Nevertheless, I lowered my observation report and moved hesitantly toward the examination table, while fear was already taking root inside me.
I walked past Quentin and pulled myself up onto the white leather table, making sure not to slide too close to him, my legs still hanging in the air.
Quentin closed the case, pushed it aside, and reached for... needles.
I looked away from the table next to the examination table and tried to focus on something else in the lab.
Think of another place. Think of...
“Diana Adams,” Quentin began, turning to me as he attached the needle to a syringe. “Where is she?”
He still wasn't looking at me.
It took me a few seconds to collect myself, to not overanalyze his behavior.
He was a male Quatura. Diana had been his colleague... So I could be honest, right?
“In Moenia,” I replied curtly. “The Councils are holding her captive.”
Quentin's jaw pressed against his cheek, stretching the skin so that it was visible through his light stubble.
“Those filthy pigs,” he cursed under his breath and set the syringe aside, only to assemble another one.
I wondered where exactly he knew the Councils from. If they knew of his existence, they would never let him go again.
“She has a child with a Senseque,” I continued, ignoring the seemingly endless list of questions I wanted to ask him, but shouldn't.
“Surprise,” he growled, shaking his head, and a warm wave of relief washed through my stomach. “Who knows how many Quatura have already circumvented this clause.”
My gaze slid down to his hands, decorated with prominent veins.