Elias looked around the room as he forced himself to relax another notch.
His baselines were normal.
Nothing to see here.
Keep walking.
A nurse in a different cut of scrubs rolled in a cart with labeled vacutainers and a portable centrifuge.
Endocrine draw timed off the treadmill. ACTH stim pending. He could have listed the whole protocol for them and spelled out what they'd miss.
He didn't.
The nurse tied a new tourniquet with careful hands.
"Palpable cords?" she asked herself out loud as she found a line. "Good veins."
"Lucky me," Elias returned, dry.
She tilted her head like she wasn't sure she'd heard humor. The needle slid; the tube filled; the centrifuge whirred. He watched the gel barrier form. He'd watched too many of these not to.
They moved him again.
Ultrasound.
Gel warm from a bottle warmer.
Wand across abdomen, the indifferent sound of a machine resourcefully peering.
