#((f2f?))

Mac sat in the clinic, compulsively checking his watch, tapping his fingers against his leg, wishing it wouldn’t look weird to flick open a swiss army knife and start whittling away at the wooden arm of the waiting room chair he was sitting in. It was a fucking STD screen exam, not a goddamn colonoscopy. Still, he couldn’t help but be embarrassed. And since he was at a free clinic, he’d been waiting for about forty-five minutes now. His coffee was long since cold, but it was better than nothing, and he needed something to occupy him.