Chapter 22: A man needs to eat
"All patched up, Andy. Shall we get onto the serious business?" Michael asked cheerfully, and Andrew chuckled.
"Well, no time like the present." Michael grabbed one of his bags, pulling out a bunch of vials along with several needles and a needle disposal container. It was clear this was a practise he did often, or at the very least, had some knowledge in.
"The basics of what I’m going to do is take a blood sample. With that blood sample I’ll send half of it to a trusted lab to get a plethora of tests done on it. The whole list, if possible. The second half I’ll do a short test here that will give us a basic idea of what’s going on, but only half trust that one. The reason being, this isn’t a lab, I’m not a tech, and it’s only 70% accurate. You don’t have a fear of needles?" He paused, halfway into prepping everything and Andrew laughed.
"No, no fear." Michael nodded, hesitated, then opened his mouth.
"It’s only fair to ask, given your...arms." He ended and Andrew, who finally had glasses and could see, looked down at his arms. He flinched.
He looked like shit. Large bruises covered his whole body, but the bruising around the injector spots was the worst. He honestly couldn’t even remember pulling them out when he’d left. He had no memory of it at all.
Flipping his hands and arms over, he could tell he’d taken quite a beating. His feet weren’t better. If he’d gone even farther, he might have needed stitches.
"Oh. I think if you had to inject something into me, I might react differently, but taking blood should be fine. Wait. Maybe I should eat first? I haven’t eaten in a week." Michael went white.
"Mr. Newman!" He called, and the two smaller men rushed into the room.
"What? What’s wrong?" They asked in unison, and Michael swallowed.
"Do we have anything for Andy to eat? He just informed me he hasn’t eaten in a week." Everyone was looking at him with obvious concern. Andrew smiled.