The critical care physician stretched his weary body. He glanced one more time at his phone. The notifications were miraculously zero for a second before the numbers started to climb.
Jonathan smiled back as if daring him to ask for another "deluxe package". His grin too wide as he fed ophthalmologist chilled grapes. His gaze seemed to pierce a person's soul.
Leaving, he took the scenic route.
He walked through the ICU, spotting Jonathan from the corner of his eye.
That couldn't be. Jonathan couldn't teleport... could he?
Moving faster, he noticed Jonathan from both his peripheries.
That couldn't be.
He froze, trying not to question it.
If he questions it, maybe Jonathan will disappear like a brownie. The hospital needs everybody it can get right now. Even if it kind of scares him, how did Jonathan manage to answer his voicemails? He never handed his phone over. More importantly...
He muttered, "He never speaks."
Bill asked, "Who?"
Glancing over his shoulder, he whispered, "The scribe."
"Oh, Jonathan? Yeah, I haven't heard him talk since I was a med student."
"Bill," the critical care physician hissed, "Are you implying he can speak?"
That scares him more not less.