The patients are silent.
Something must be afoot; the patients are never silent.
The Doctor supposes it must be her presence here.
They don’t like her.
They don’t trust her.
He’s not sure he does either.
She hasn’t spoken a word since she arrived.
Perhaps she simply brought the silence with her.
“...list this woman as armed and dangerous.”
The Doctor flicks off the television, shaking his head sadly.
“This is what happens when treatment goes rogue.”
He forgets where he is.
The passing mumbled admonishing remark elicits a glare from her.
Hate. Then, mockingly:
“I know. The apothecary always knows best.”
He sighs.
There’s much work to be done.
This will be one for the books.
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