In the nurse’s office, they examined Rory. Making sure that nothing was wrong with him, from his neck pulse, and even his reaction to light.
Sitting on the clinic bed, he remained quiet and obedient while the female nurse checked him.
“How are you feeling?” Miss Phoebe asks, shunning the beam of the flashlight in his eyes.
He followed it as was told and though it was blinding; he tried his best to avoid doing it.
“Better,” he says.
Confined in that room, with his friends outside, finally returned his senses to normal.
It completely baffled him why he acted like that a while ago. He could not explain why he felt so drunk, horny, and out of control just by getting a waft of Alexander’s and Maynard’s scent.
He thanked the heavens that he blacked out rather than lunging at the two, savi
