"How is she?"
The necessary examinations have been done; surely he should give an answer by now.
"No concussion, don't worry. This bump will soon go down. I'll prescribe some anti-inflammatory drugs."
As he spoke, Anton Swan scribbled rapidly on the prescription pad in front of him.
Of course, as a doctor, his handwriting is recognizable to very few people.
"Really no problem?"
The little rabbit earlier didn't seem fine at all, plus the bump on her forehead is quite big.
Come to the hospital, simply get told it's nothing, and then leave with a few boxes of anti-inflammatory drugs?
This...
Isn't that a bit too hasty?
Anton Swan gave Maxwell Peary a disgruntled look, full of disdain.
"You're really hard to please. You hear from a doctor at the hospital that there's nothing wrong, shouldn't you be happy?"
What kind of expression is that?
Why does he make him seem like a quack?
"Look at her injury..."
"Uncle."
