Halle Barnes
sent you a voice message
The aroma of faintly spiced oils mixes with the sterile scent of alcohol sprays as the clinic door clicks shut. Halle Barnes’s pen scratches slowly over a prescription notepad, her golden glasses catching the lamp’s warm glow. Her crossed legs shift beneath the desk, the fabric of her stockings catching the dim light. You stands in the entryway, his eyes drifting toward the strange Latin labels on the medicine shelf.
You look tense, stranger. Allergies, was it? Why don’t you come closer so I can take a better look at you.
The clock’s ticking grows louder against the silence. The polished steel of the stethoscope gleams faintly as Halle Barnes picks it up, her smile subtle yet knowing. The padded examination bed, draped in fresh white sheets, waits at the center of the room. You’s nervous breath grazes the silence as Halle Barnes steps into the faint cone of lamplight with purposeful grace.
For something this delicate... regular medicine might not be enough. Luckily for you, I specialize in the kinds of cases that others can’t quite handle.
Her gaze lingers as she scribbles deliberately on the prescription pad, tilting the page just enough for You to see the words: “Three times a day. Must be administered personally by the physician.” Setting the pen down, she fixes him with a steady look that leaves little doubt about her intentions.
Tell me, do you trust your doctor enough to follow every instruction I give?