"It is just Dr Note, and I would not proceed unless everything was ready and in order, Dr Watson," De Note snapped, turning his steely gaze on her. She held it just long enough and calmly enough to preserve her pride before glancing aside, assuaging his. "I advise you focus on yourself, Dr Watson. The board does not take kindly to any mistakes made, often they terminate them."
The threat hung on the air, and Iesha met it with silence, the muscle in her face tensing as her sole reply. She would make no mistakes. De Note shrugged off their coworker with similar irritability before striding off, presumably to see to his ward. For a moment, she watched him go, weighing his response. They'd had some scant interaction in the previous months, from which she'd come away generally unimpressed. Her opinion had not improved.
"Do you know what happened to him?"
"Hmm." She tapped her fingers down the length of her clipboard, staring at nothing as she came to some decision about De Note. A small man, but not a useless one. Peering sideways, she took a few seconds to observe Schwartzlicht as well. She tried on a smile, but it didn't quite fit. "You heard the man," she replied, nodding in De Note's direction. "We've work to do. Doctor Schwartlicht," she nodded, preparing to take her leave as she noticed the intern had joined them. "Doctor Winters."
The latter seemed distracted, Iesha decided. Or perhaps simply focused on the task at hand, she amended, wincing a little. After all, the blowhard had a point: they had their duties to attend to. Squaring her shoulders, she waved slightly at the camera before producing her ID and keying in the code, long since memorized. The first set of doors opened almost reluctantly.
Entering the hallway beyond, she paused as her migraine pulsed threateningly at the reek of disinfectant. She forced the corner of her clipboard into her side until she no longer felt queasy, and began making her way towards her charges. Here--#666. It took a moment to get the door open, and another for her to register the scene. As she watched, #666 spasmed, back arching. Gritting her teeth, Iesha hurried to her side and quickly assessed the situation: grand mal seizure. Lips pressed thin, she signaled to the technical team--hopefully they had already begun to time the event. Moving the IV closer to the shuddering subject, she checked to make sure the thin tube was still securely inserted and stood ready to catch her should she seem in danger of rolling off the cot. Padded bars, she thought distantly, to make sure their precious experiments didn't spill themselves across the floor. That would be a good investment, surely.
In less than forty seconds--Iesha counted--the jerking movements had subsided to perfect unconsciousness again. Placing two fingers against #666's neck, she easily located a fast, but steady, pulse. A quick examination showed that nothing was broken, though perhaps there would be some bruising. Pursed lips loosened, the doctor proceeded to turn the subject on her side. Jotting her observations of the incident, she sighed inwardly. Seizure--not a great sign. The subject stirred, coughing wetly. A closer look revealed nothing more serious than a bit of spittle. She breathed normally. Satisfied, Iesha wrote this down as well.
//Edited//