“Can you—can you get your fancy doctor bag and come help?” The corner of Nathaniel’s lips tug. “You assume I have one?” She props her hands on her hips and stares at him. Waits. “Fine,” he grumps, crossing the room to pull out the small satchel he brings with him in case of emergencies. She brightens, a smile of vindication on her face. “I fucking knew it.”
