Chapter 347

Gregory Wilson's lips curved slightly. "Indeed, almost unchanged."

"I never knew Dr. Wilson had such talent for painting."

"Hardly talent," he shook his head gently. "Just occasional doodles without formal training. Perhaps my muse blessed me with extraordinary inspiration today."

Alexander Hamilton's gaze lingered on the artwork. "Which year of college was this?"

"Sophomore year," Gregory recalled. "I returned for an academic exchange and visited Hudson University Medical School."

Alexander studied the painted scene. "Does that tree-lined path at the medical school still exist?"

"You'll have to ask Evelyn."

Alexander turned toward the kitchen where a figure stood motionless by the whistling kettle, trying to remain unnoticed. "Evelyn?"

Evelyn Carter pointed to her throat with a slight shake of her head.

"My apologies. I forgot your voice hasn't recovered."

He approached slowly, resting one hand on the marble countertop. His fingertips brushed her neck accidentally. "Still hurts?"

Evelyn frowned and retreated half a step.

"How will you work without speaking?"

Gregory's voice carried from the living room. "No outpatient duties initially—just orientation. I'll look after her."

Alexander's eyes darkened. "Much obliged, Dr. Wilson."

Gregory didn't respond, settling onto the couch instead. Spotting Evelyn's purchased medications on the coffee table, he retrieved a syringe and tetanus shot. "Evelyn, I need your assistance."

She nodded in acknowledgment.

The kettle chirped its completion.

From the fridge, she took bottled water to temper the heat before carrying the glass to Gregory.

Accepting it, his eyes warmed. "Thank you."

Evelyn pressed a hand to his forehead, then produced fever reducers and anti-inflammatories.

[Take the antipyretics first. Antibiotics in thirty minutes.]

"Understood."

Pills met palm, then disappeared with a water chaser.

Evelyn had already begun prepping the injection with clinical precision. Alcohol swabs dabbed fingertips. Needle packaging tore open crisply. A testing push of the plunger confirmed patency before her confirming nod.

Gregory rolled his left sleeve to the shoulder wordlessly.

Concentric alcohol circles sanitized skin. The needle found muscle unerringly. Evelyn administered the shot smoothly, applying pressure with cotton before sheathing the used needle.

Leaning back, Gregory held the swab in place. "More painful than I remembered."

Evelyn's questioning glance asked:

[Rusty technique? It's been a while since I gave intramuscular injections.]

"Just been too long since my last shot," he chuckled.

Her attention drifted to the wound on his right arm. She'd deliberately chosen his left for the injection—now his right hand held the cotton swab, leaving the injury unattended.

After ensuring no bleeding at the injection site, she knelt before the sofa with fresh alcohol swabs to tend the angry laceration.