Gore began to sweat. He had realised what he had presented too late, and there wasn't a good way out of this. The intern was smart, and his excuses would never be believed. He could either give in, or try an excuse and get in more trouble.
Goresplatter: "Well, I admit it, I shot him. But, he was about to murder another slig, so I could either have let the slig die or get him to let go. At least I didn't shoot him in the head!"
Gore started shivering. He didn't feel well, and sat down at the side of the room. How could he have been so stupid, he thought. He became angry with himself, and punched the wall with his left hand until it ached. Vykker X, meanwhile, had just woken up.
Vykker X: "Ahh, a Vykker needs his beauty sleep! And now, I wake up to a dream! You there, intern, diagnose old Gore here, if you can guess what bad his legs cause him in three guesses, I'll help you operate on Molt - don't get me wrong, I'm a good doctor if I have to be. Go on, humour me, guess."
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