“I swear I’m going to write it on your hands next time. Midazolam. Say it with me. Mi. Da. Zo. Lam.” He sounds it out like I’m a toddler he’s teaching a new word, and I throw a nearby book straight at his face, which he knocks away with his hand. “Because I’m a paramedic, and I know my way around sedatives.” That brings me up short. I stop tripping around my living room, instead staring at him with a perplexed expression that causes him to stop as well. “What?” Hux asks, confusion in his voice. “Paramedic?” I repeat. “Like, an EMT? Like, rides in an ambulance, saving people?” “Uh, yeah?” He
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