“Can we all calm down? There’s no need to be hysterical.” “How are we hysterical?” Berg asked. “By running in, assuming I’m dying—” “You are drenched in blood,” Berg reminded her. “And your shoulder looks really weird,” Dag flatly added. “That just needs to be yanked back into place.” She scratched her chin. “And a little duct tape on the gunshot wounds will stop the bleeding.” “You’re not a headlight on an old Chevy,” Berg told her. She rolled her eyes but before she said anything, she suddenly sniffed the air. “I got a pie in the oven. Wait here.”
