#fiinalgrl

Casper was waiting behind the curtain of his tiny emergency room cubicle, pacing up and down, sitting down on the bed, getting up to pace again. He seemed on edge, more on edge than usual, even by his standards. Maybe that was just what being days, nay, minutes away from dying did to you. 

“I need ciprofloxacin,” he sputtered the second someone drew back the curtain, holding out his arm, already mentally prepared for his intravenous infusion. Hesitating for half a second before he widened his eyes, he realized that he must have sounded like a crazy person. “I’m not a junkie or anything. Can you even get addicted to antibiotics? I mean, even if you could, it’s not like I am. It’s just that I have pulmonary anthrax, you know?”

“I googled the symptoms and it all checks out. See?” Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he held it in front of the short ginger’s face, way too close for her to make out any of the words on the screen probably. “Shortness of breath, flu-like symptoms, nausea and I might not be coughing up blood yet, but I swear I could start any minute now.”