He brushed the back, caught in a snarl, and started over at the bottom. He pulled up a chair and sat behind her. He brushed the bottom of the hair for...minutes, and then started up higher on every stroke. She wasn’t sure he was accomplishing anything, but it felt like a caress. Then, slowly, his brush strokes covered more and more of her hair. He never pulled as hard as she did, but -- when he stood again -- the brush was covering the hair on the back of her head with every stroke. “Mmm,” she. "Wash these pills down with this." He handed Chad a beaker of murky green liquid that tasted vaguely of citrus. "It'll replace some of the fluids your body lost. Let me look at that arm again in a few days, sooner if it bothers you, and use this sling until then. Why in the world did you pick this outfit to hitch a ride with?" Just my usual luck, I guess." Chad grinned back, a bit feebly. Long forgotten habits of correct speech began to stir at the old doctor's precise use of the English. More

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