“The hell were you two doing in there?” Marigold asked bemusedly.

“Stuff,” Alex said, though he instantly regretted it. Stuff? What the hell? What does that mean? Time seemed to slow to a still as he watched the worry instantly ripple down her face.

Thank Christ that Josie was here to help clarify: “Taking drugs.”

Great. Cool.

“What the hell is your problem?” Marigold asked Alex in a hushed tone, as they both watched Josie pick up the laundry basket and get back to walking.

“I’m not the one who chooses this… this stuff,” Alex hissed at her, slipping his hands into his pockets and fiddling with the fabric. Stuff. Yeah, fucking stuff.

“You’re literally the top doctor! You work on the ninth floor!”

“It’s way more complicated than that! I’m not the one who controls the prescriptions or– whatever it is that you think I do,” he grumbled, trying to get his voice to go back down.

“I think that you are a doctor who is giving my friend research chemicals.”

“I’m not giving them, I’m– why am I arguing this with you?”

They seethed in silence.

If Josie had heard anything they had said, they weren’t showing it. Their steps were solid and mechanical, now. Alex watched them – at first with curiosity, but a discomfort was starting to crawl up the back of his neck. Whatever this feeling was, he hated it.