There was no doubt in Francis' mind that his efforts would do their job, but the way Abendroth's body relaxed after a short time nonetheless eased his mind. It meant there was no delay between his power and its effects.
For someone who went to school and studied to be a nurse, the way he treated 'patients' with his power was mostly unprofessional. He couldn't rely on a body of knowledge, carefully memorized procedures and treatments, or even his past experiences. When he healed, the feeling was always unique – a mixture of the person he was healing and the ailment he was driving away. Years of practice had allowed him to harness the power and use it expertly and at will, but it hadn't helped him to explain why it worked, how it worked, or what inside of him allowed him to be able to perform. Sixteen years after his first experience with his power, it was still an enigma.
That was okay, mostly. Part of him didn't care, because whether he understood it or not he could still use it, but another part of him did care. The part that cared wondered what the scientists running the program knew about everyone's powers, and what they were hiding from them – from him. He didn't kid himself when he thought about why any of them kept him around. Francis knew the only reason he was being included in the details of this messed up kid's murder mystery was because he could be used as a tool.
"What are you talking about?" Francis' voice had a cold edge to it as he answered, and he pulled his hands away much more quickly than he'd placed them on the teen.
Calm down, he told himself, taking a moment to calm his nerves. No one had told him what to say to prying questions, so he figured he could wing it and they couldn't say shit about it.
"People are worried about you." Francis decided to change the subject, his eyes suspiciously not anywhere close to being focused on Abendroth. "Do you remember anything about last night? The sooner you're able to think clearly, the sooner you'll be released."