In a fully-staffed, pre-zombie-outbreak hospital, there would have been a whole team of people working in the lab, switching out shifts and running tests at all hours, as needed. At the UMCB, however, there was less of everything. Fewer patients, fewer tests, fewer materials to run the tests, and (worst of all, in Dani's mind) fewer staff members. Today, as the lowest person in the pecking order, she had been sent on what amounted to glorified page duty, chasing down a translation for some scribble on a piece of paperwork. And she was annoyed about it.
The heels on Dani's shoes were quite modest, but they tapped even when she walked at a normal stride. When she was annoyed, the noise was twice as loud, like a herald of her mood in advance of her arrival. Sometimes Dani made the attempt to muffle her steps, but not usually.
"Helen," Dani said, tone sharp, "help me out here. What in the world is this supposed to say? I swear to God, these doctors." When Helen didn't immediately respond with her typical commiseration, Dani looked up from the paperwork, only to find the nurse wasn't behind the desk at all. But someone was.
Putting both hands on the edge of the desk, Dani leaned over it enough to see who was messing around on the floor. If a patient had passed out ... but no. The man was fully conscious, thank God.
Failing to recognize Graham, Dani fixed him with a doubtful look. "Excuse me. What are you doing down there?"