Eat Your Heart Out
The woman hums in acknowledgement, but does not look up from her microscope or otherwise attempt to greet her boss.
This time, she gets up, the urgency in Gabriel’s voice tells her this is no ordinary house visit. “Yes? To what do I owe this visit, Commander?”
She watches the man lock the door and type something into his holo-tablet, noting with mild interest that the red dots for the surveillance cameras have shut off. When he seems to be done sealing the room off from any communications and monitoring, he takes a seat near her. She sits back down, waiting, eyebrow raised.
Gabriel takes a rattling breath (one that Moira didn’t even need to be a doctor to know that it is not the way a person should sound).
“I need your help,” he rasps, finally.
“Oh? Explain to me the nature of the help you would like to receive.”
For a fleeting moment, she thought the man was going to throw up with the way his face blanches and he covers his mouth with a hand. It’s certainly surprising when he begins to cough violently, retching at some points. To see such a hardy man reduced to such a feeble mess should faze her, but it doesn’t come close to what catches her attention, and suddenly, she is keenly aware of why her commander is here, asking her for help instead of a bleeding heart like Angela.
In his hand and scattered on the floor were several bloody red petals.