"Sure thing, Doctor." Nyx follows placidly, hands going back into her pockets; she shuts the door behind the two of them and leans against it, breathing out a long sigh. "...So, first thing is both good news and bad news. Got a stomach like a vulture, nearly immune to all ingested toxins and diseases. Including almost all ingested drugs. Aaaaaaaand while we're at it my pain response is nearly fuckin' nothing, which to most people sounds like good news until y'look down and go, oh, how long have I been fuckin' bleeding."

She is trying so very hard to be relaxed. She is trying so hard that she's failing.