Once the door shut behind him, I leaned back in my chair, resting the back of my head against the headrest, moving my fingertips over my temples in a stubborn attempt to ease the pain.
It was a foolish hope. After a while, I gave up and shifted my gaze to Michael without lifting my head.
"What the hell are you still doing here?" I asked. "Did my father send you to keep an eye on me?"
Michael immediately theatrically feigned surprise, set down his empty cup, and turned to me.
"What? Your irritability has reached a new level. Now you're not just bothering a poor doctor; you're accusing me of terrible things, like spying," he said, pressing a hand theatrically to his chest. "Oh, come on. Someone has to keep an eye on you. Besides, it's so amusing watching you bully a man whose only crime was trying to help you."
"Fine, I'll believe you," I said, starting to shuffle papers in my desk, pretending to get on with work. "You see, I'm quite busy, so you can leave now."
"So I bring you such a splendid, discreet doctor, someone you can trust, and this is how you repay me. You're so cold and heartless." He said, pretending to be deeply offended. "By the way, our grumpy, serious Edward, there's something I must ask you." His tone turned curious. "It's been troubling me for days now." He tilted his head slightly, watching me over the rim of his cup. "Would you mind telling me why your television has been switched off recently?"
"You dragged a doctor here, and I even agreed to it. What more do you want from me?" I said, my voice tired. "My head is splitting. Any noise, any flicker makes it worse. That's why it's off." I rubbed my temple again, letting out a slow breath. "There. Are you satisfied now?"
"Well, then you can watch it without… well, sound should be fine. Subtitles…" He said, snatching the remote from my desk. The television flickered to life.
I reached out to take the remote back from him, then stopped halfway, and I leaned into the back of the chair again.
The effort didn't seem worth it.
He fiddled with something on the remote, and the subtitles flickered across the screen.
"If you don't watch all your news, your control mania won't let you live in peace," he said, flipping from channel to channel, news to news.
Images flashed across the screen: stories, presenters, some shows. It looked like he was looking for something.
The clicking of the buttons on that wretched remote, though faint, pressed painfully against my throbbing head. Perhaps it was Michael's abrupt movements, or the flickering of the screen, or the two of them together—I had no idea.
"Michael, for God's sake, get out of here!" I snapped.
Then I froze. "Wait! Stop! Go back!"
He flipped back to the previous channel. A presenter was talking, and a video played behind her.
"Turn the sound on. Now!" I roared.
"Why all the fuss?" he muttered, clicking the buttons, finally adding sound.
"Footage we obtained today… attention to the screen," I caught a fragment. The video behind her stretched to fill the frame.
There he was.
White hair.
Ears.
His fox ears. He was not hiding them anymore.
He stood there, smiling, but it lasted a few seconds. Something shifted behind him. A pile of wreckage started to fall. He moved and disappeared from view.
My chest tightened.
The camera shook.
What sort of useless idiot was filming that?
Damn it!
Where was he?
Then the camera found him.
He had pulled a girl out from under the falling mess just in time. Scratches across his skin, small cuts, blood seeping through. He stood there, brushing dust off her, saying something, most likely asking if she was fine.
He was fine.
Everything was fine.
He handled it.
The presenter returned.
"You see how curious this is," she said. "The internet is in an uproar. The community is divided. Some are impressed, others are not. It is unclear whether this was staged. How convenient that at the exact moment the hybrid saves someone, the camera is already on him. Quite theatrical, wouldn't you say. What do you think? We are waiting for your opinions. Now, on to the forecast…"
I sat there, trying to hold myself together, making sure nothing slipped through.
It took a few breaths before I managed to straighten and lean back into the chair.
I turned to Michael.
He was watching me very, very closely.
"Have I got something on me?" I asked, keeping my voice level. "Or what. Is there another reason you're staring?"
Michael shrugged. "No. Just thinking about how important the news can be. You never know what might affect your business. Right, Ed?"
He set the remote down with a light plastic tap.
"Well then, I think that's enough for today. Do tell me whether those pills your doctor sends actually help. Who knows, they might even improve your mood."
He gave a wink, slipped his hands into his pockets, and walked out, whistling something under his breath. The door slammed behind him, nearly taking it off its hinges.
Finally… I was alone.
My heart was pounding.
At last, I could allow my face to relax.
I had no idea what expression I'd been wearing while we watched the news.
Why had Michael been looking at me that way? What if he had understood everything?
I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the light, trying to calm myself at least a little.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Everything was fine. Absolutely fine.
"I did the right thing. I did the right thing."