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Ankles and wrists bound in leather restraints -- nylon straps (like seatbelts) tight across his chest and waist. Still, he struggled. She leaned over the gurney, pushing his shoulders down with her weight. "I could save your life," she declared, "but that would be unethical." And she watched his eyes... A tremor of indignant malevolence as her words registered, quickly replaced by the most basic of fears. A primal reaction, as he lunged against the restraints, grunting inhumanly with the effort. She withdrew her hands, but remained leaning over as he thrust his head within inches of her face. "Interesting." With her foot, she engaged the gurney's brakes, preventing it from rolling any further under his convulsions. Then, she seated herself behind a large oak desk. "I still have paperwork to do," she said. "Let me know when you're ready." She picked up a pencil... "And, if it's not too much to ask, could you please be quiet?"
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