Enter key and the door slides away to reveal a white laboratory, much like the med lab back on the carrier. Shelves stocked with medical supplies line two walls while closed doors along the back lead off to supply closets, most likely, and a low counter runs around one side of the room. Two consoles are set into the counter, and a panel above them is filled with stainless steel instruments that gleam wickedly in the bright overhead lights. Sterile, that’s the word that comes to mind. I’m afraid to touch anything, afraid to even breathe for fear of contaminating this place.
“What’re these for?” he wants to know, so childlike, that’s one of the things I love about him. So unconcerned about the fact that we’re not supposed to touch anything—he pulls the stirrup right off the end of its suppo
