Chapter 2

"So, what's wrong with your girl?"  Silvio demanded, as soon as Langly returned to the ER waiting room.  Relieved to see him, he rose to his feet and made a beeline for the distraught looking beanpole.  As he advanced on him, he stole a look at the huge waiting room clock which hung over the beat-up looking drinking fountain.  It was high noon.  Langly'd been gone nearly a full hour, leaving the contact from the Amazon, by way of Manaus, to brave the unpleasant vicissitudes of the ER 'dead zone' alone.

Not a squeamish man by nature, the sight of numerous victims, men, women, and yes, children, afflicted with varying degrees of gunshot wounds, as well as all manner of nasty injuries and maladies, had been enough to drive Silvio to the men's room a number of times to splash some cold water on his haggard face.  Washington D.C., he'd thought, and grimaced.  Although, his beloved Rio was none too safer, since the last time he'd paid a visit a year ago, he'd reflected, as he'd splashed, and had checked to verify the secureness of his own weapon, a number of times.  Even though he possessed the proper provisional, international authorization to carry a firearm, he was never comfortable wearing a piece.  But one could never be too careful these days.

Likewise, looking a shade paler than when he'd accompanied Scully into the ER care facilities, Langly didn't answer right away.  He moved past Silvio and dropped into the nearest empty seat.  He felt so vexed, so lost and small at the same time.  Words were beyond him at the moment. Staring blankly into space, it felt as though he'd been with her several days instead of several hours; several excruciating days.

"How's your girl?" Silvio repeated, close to Langly's ear, a hint of annoyance tinging his liberally accented voice, once hewas seated beside him.  He was very tired, not having had much chance of even catching a catnap on the plane.  And the airline's service was another diatribe.  "What's wrong with her?"

His tiredness, coupled with his wanting to divulge what information he had, and then be on his way back to the rain forest, wasn't helping his disposition at the moment, which was normally easygoing, not acerbic.  Casting dubious eyes which weighed Langly up, and tallied him short, he said, "She is very beautiful, but it is a bad thing when a man must get a woman drunk to have her.  Now, she is very sick.  No?"

Blinking himself to a higher level of consciousness, but still unwilling to wholly come out of his morose reverie fully, Langly snaked his head to glare at Silvio, not appreciating his tone, nor, the disparagingly, and intensely seemy implication.

Cutting him with his eyes, Langly said, "She's not my girl, Scully's my friend, and I didn't get her smashed, to boink her.  Far from it!"  He ran his hand through his hair and said hotly, "I don't haveta 'get' women like that.  That's a tactic for losers!"  Sighing then, he went on, "Shoot, how I wish I friggin' knew what's wrong with her.  This sucks--THEY know bupkus, and if they DO know, they're not telling me squat.  She's gone into a coma, man!"  He embraced his head with his hands and looked as though he would double over at any second.  "How can this be happening?  CRAP!  She's gotta be all right--she's just gotta be--oh, God, PLEASE!"

"Coma?  From drinking too much?"

Langly bristled, hugging his abdomen.  "Yeah, a coma, and weren't you payin' attention?  It's not 'cause she's tanked!  She's not a boozer.  She's as straight as they come, man."  Which was one of the seemingly non sequitur of reasons why he was finding himself liking her so much.

Her bone straight and narrowness was a boon to his unique view of the world, causing its expression to manifest itself in fresher, more dynamic ways, ever since embarking on their night of eventful discovery in Vegas, and the unexpected pleasure of her company for 'Phantom'.  A view which roughly dictated that faking a nonchalant, off-the-wall ilk of madness was fine, but, when the situation warranted, you care like crazy.  The mystery regarding the nature of her present state was certainly such a situation.

His caring like crazy had gone critical, as had her condition.

The corners of his mouth crooked upward, despite the abject glumness tugging at his heart.  It was evident Scully cared deeply about many things.  Why, even at one point during 'Phantom', she'd leaned over and had whispered into his ear, her muse at full tilt, whether or not he thought Jar Jar Binks had a speech impediment, and if so, maybe the Jedi could help him overcome it.

Yeah, he liked that benchmark of empathy very much.  It was so rare in people today.  They shared many of the same sentiments, he'd discovered.  Shocko!  There was no denying that the fondness for, and clear attachment he was developing to her was a work-in-progress.  Who would've thought after all these years, throughout their bumpy and minimal association, that caring would figure into the mix?

*She's a transcendent beauty with a conscience, allied with her innate ability to induce my eccentricity to strut its head off, and she hasn't put me down for it either, least not yet, anyway*

Yep, he generously considered, there's always room for a lot more eccentricity strutting.

With a firm set to his jaw, he concluded the word hadn't been invented yet that did justice to her calibre of intelligence and pathos.  He'd have to come up with one...but not now.  He was way too distraught.

"She's just gotta pull through!  Dana Scully's a lady with a capital 'L', jack.  She's good people."

"Okay, okay, do not have the, as your animated, little yellow American Bart says, 'cow, man.'"  Silvio patted Langly's shoulder in commiseration.  "I'm sorry for springing to the wrong idea."

Oblivious to the apology, Langly droned on, "They'd no sooner drawn some of her blood when she got muzzier, an' swooned.  She's been out since.  I've been in there with her, holding her hand, tryin' to talk her back.  A few minutes ago, these two hot-shot doctors showed up.  They asked if I was a relative.  When I said, no, they told me I'd have to wait out here.  Both of 'em gave me squirrely looks of the highest magnitude, man, like I was her dealer or something."

He tugged on his hair, looking tense, and drawn.  "Please, oh please let her be okay."

"Langly, you had better calm down," Silvio urged.  "Getting so upset is never healthy."

"I'll do whatever you want--even give up bein' such an egocentric vid addict--anything...just let Scully be okay."  He buried his head in his hands and fervently whispered, "Don't let her slip away, please.  Don't let her check out on a forever basis.  Not when we were makin' real stone what-you-see-is-what-ya-get effort to know each other better, an' all. The one-on-one we've laid down so far's been the awesomest nirvana ever.  She's outstanding."

*This cracked world needs tons more like her.  Scully lays claim to a snug place in ALL our hearts; we need her.  Don't yank her out.  It can't be her time.  All systems say she wants to be a serious friend.  With me!  Go figure...*

<As if you don't deserve one?>, his inner voice nudged in mild reproach.

"No," he breathed to himself, "you know what I mean.  I'm not an easy fit...but she seems to know that, an' it doesn't matter.  I always thought she was Judgment Day in pantyhose, but that's so bogus..."

"Easy, my friend," Silvio comforted, but sensed his assurance would be moot, "I'm sure she's in good hands, and she'll be just fine."

"This is all our fault!" Langly exclaimed fitfully as he lifted up his head from his lap.

"Whose fault?"

"Ours--Byers', 'Hike's and mine.  We never should have gotten her involved in that wack investigation, even though we thought we were on to something big.  Believe me, we were, but that's not worth diddly now, not if that stupid M-C crap's ultimately liquified her brain.  I'll never forgive myself!  We never should have suckered her in, luring her out there with our phoney phone--"

"Well, I'm here, Scarecrow.  Got your message loud an' clear.  Where's Scully?"

"MULDER!"

Langly bounced to his feet, overjoyed to see the one man who seemed to bring sanity to an otherwise insane world, with his trusty brand of reaffirming, arcane logic.  He threw his arms around Mulder and crushed him to himself as though his arms were a vise.

"They've got her in the back, there.  Something weird's goin' down, man.  She went into a coma, and they chased me out in a scram."

After Mulder, who still wore his sweats from his early morning run, had worked himself free of the all encompassing embrace, he said, "I'm really nuts about you too, Langly, but what's with Scully being in a coma?"  Unpretentiously, he returned Langly's arms to their owner's sides.

Langly nodded frantically, looking woebegone.

"How'd she get that way?"  Mulder started walking off with Langly dogging his heels.  Then, as almost an afterthought, the over-wrought systems expert wheeled around and high signed for Silvio to sit tight. The expectant Brazilian, who'd risen to his feet to add his informal greeting to Mulder, flounced back down into the chair.  Again, he was left to wonder if he'd be spending the entire day in this human zoo.

"Goes back to Vegas...has to, and winds up in the office this morning. We saw the new 'Star Wars' together, last night."

Mulder half-heard Langly's rapid-fire reply, as his mind catapulted to another time, the *dark* time when she'd gone into coma, and it had taken practically everything Melissa had been capable of mustering to summon her back.

"You and Scully?" Mulder said, sounding backhandedly surprised.

"Uh huh.  Last night.  She deeply dug the flick."  He breathed heavily, and forged on, "But, anyway, when we got back to the lab, it was total 'Outer Limits'.  She freaked, fell out and wound up having to stay the night.  Then this morning, after we were having breakfast, she did a repeat, only this time there were no signs of her gettin' over it in a hurry.  The Brazilian showed early, so I had him drive us here to see what's up with her present state of the flip side.  Man, you've never seen her so wild."

Mulder had seen her in many different ways, but conjuring up a mental video of her going off the deep end, when he wasn't around, was not something he wanted to entertain.  His mind did, however, envision Scully and Langly at the movies, having a good time together, and suddenly, that idea didn't sit too well.

"I didn't know Scully liked those movies..."

"Uh huh.  I know."  Langly frowned at him, recalling Mulder's judgmental opinion when he'd invited him to go first.  "But, that aside, like I told her, she was acting the way she had in Vegas, after Susanne Modeski's scuzzy M-C drug ripped her."

"Scully spent the night?"

"No option.  Like, she wasn't in any shape to leave.  Trust me on that."

Mulder did a double-take, as though what Langly was telling him had been swiped from the funny papers, but he wasn't laughing.  There was nothing even distantly amusing about his partner, his best friend, his Scully, tucked away all nice and cozy in some form of inexplicable deep sleep, precipitated by some chemically-induced trauma.  She had a sorry history of being in too many hospitals, for too many shadowy reasons.

"How come you didn't try to contact me then?"

"I did.  Once she'd fallen asleep, and I got outta the bed, I buzzed ya, but you must've had your phone and machine switched off."

"Yeah.  I did; forgot.  I got home and crashed last night.  Didn't want to be disturbed by anyone."  Mulder barraged him with bizarre looks as they headed for the ER attendant's station.  "You were in bed with Scully?" Mulder croaked in stark disbelief.

"Like, chill, buddie.  Zero hanky-panky.  Bupkus, if I'm hearin' and pickin' your vibe up right--like I told her, earlier this morning before she went nympho.  Zip happened."

Mulder eyed Langly narrowly.  "She was with you the whole night?"

"Scully was like 'Vampira' on acid, with the Boy Scout.  I being a model one from the get-go.  She was in a real bad way."  Langly tugged on his arm to make him slow down a fraction.  He leveled his gaze even with Mulder's.  "You know me better than that.  Don't you?  Her actin' screwy wasn't a red flag to make my move.  You think I'd stoop so low?"

"Sorry, Langly.  It's just that I'm worried about her..."

"Bingo.  Me too.  My opinion:  Something triggered her off, and I believe that mind scrunching drug has everything to do with it.  Nothing's for sure about that, yet; it's just a gut feeling."

"So you think there's a direct correlation between your exploits in Vegas and Scully winding up here?"

"Bullseye.  'Bout time."  Langly stuck his arm out and over to wave his hand in front of Mulder's eyes a few times.  "Hello.  Welcome back to this universe.  What have I been saying for the past coupla minutes?"

"'Kay, Luke Skywalker, just give me the total rundown, minus the attitude.  Scully didn't actually go into what you, Cowardly Lion and Toto were up to in Vegas.  Let alone how you three got her out there in the first place."  Mulder gave him a pointed look.  Langly averted his eyes and looked ceiling-ward for the scrutiny.

"She just keeps dropping deadly hints like crazy that she'll let you live, but Frohike and Byers are marked men.  What time-lapse are we specifically talkin' here, and what went down?"

"Good to know I've got your undivided attention now," Langly said with plenty of attitude left over.  "Roughly a month ago, we went to check out this year's Def-Con Convention.  Ya know, for scrounge purposes, and who does Byers bump into but his mainline crush, Susanne Modeski..."

"Susanne," Mulder intoned, his beleaguered memory throwing his thought pattern into remembrance overload.  "Alias Holly."  ...Baltimore, that musty, dark warehouse, the shootout, the Gunmen, X, and his own pathetic writhing on the floor, naked, blathering incoherently...

"Governmental abductee bait in the flesh afta all these years," Langly snapped, pairing the retort with a look of, [You heard right].  After he'd finished filling Mulder in, he waited for his friend to digest the unlikely chain of unforeseen events.

"I've gotta give it to ya.  You boys've got a lotta crust.  It's a wonder Scully didn't go ballistic on you out there, once she caught on to your cloak an' dagger shenanigans."

Ignoring Mulder's anemic attempt at chastisement, Langly went on, "Byers looked all set to jump in the cab and ride off with his lady love.  He's still got it hard core for the maven of mind control.  He'd climb Everest for her, not batting an eye, and then volunteer to be a test subject."

"So, you think Scully's suffering from some kind of delayed aftereffects, compliments Susanne's concoction."

"Straight up."

Once they stood before the ER attendant's station, which bore all the earmarks of Chaos Central, Mulder flashed his FBI ID.  "This is who I am, and he's my undercover attache," the Fed said imperiously, placing his hand between Langly's jutting shoulder blades, to round out the rapid introduction.  Langly noted that this was a new attendant, who'd most likely come on after he'd been ejected.  He felt smug posing behind Mulder's prevarication, and nodded staidly.

"You have a Ms. Scully as a patient.  She's a Special Federal Agent--my partner--and we need to see her immediately."

The attendant held up his hand simultaneously with his phone, which already had most of its calls*on*hold lights doing the dance of the fireflies, when it rang.

"Speak to the hand," Mulder said in a crisp aside to Langly, who nodded again, with a smirk.  "Why'd you bring her here, and not to Georgetown Med.?  This is one of Washington's house of horrors hospitals."

"Yeah, remind me to kick myself later.  It was closest.  She was so freakin' bad, this place popped into mind first.  I was freakin' too."

The attendant slammed down the phone, and asked Mulder to repeat what he'd just said.  Once Mulder had recited the litany a second time, the frazzled attendant gave both men withering looks.  "Only one at a time, Mr. Mulder, sorry," he said at length.  "Your associate will have to wait here.  Hospital rules."

"Chuff," Langly muttered deep in the recesses of his throat.  "...Hospitals don't rule HMOs do..."

"My attache goes everywhere I do when it involves official Bureau business."  Mulder threw a curved 'cut it out' fast ball look at Langly.  "The rules will have to bend, in this instance."

"Oh, really.  And just what IS the nature of your business?"

Mulder wanted to pinch and wag this clown's bulbous nose so bad, but maintaining his professional composure, he replied in the highhanded voice he reserved for lackeys, "Seeing my partner.  She's privy to highly sensitive information.  Another agent must be on hand with her at all times, to prevent any security leaks.  My attache serves as a back-up witness.  Feel free to call our superior.  His name's Assistant Director Walter Skinner.  He'd be delighted to confirm that."  Mulder loved slinging his imagined 'official' weight around.  It was a good thing he'd never been called on most of his bravado displaying, stand down tactics.  But that had never happened because Mulder was a formidable bluffer; a natural rigmarole champ.

"She's to the right--"

"That way, and then left," Langly butted in.  "C'mon, sir, I'll show ya," he said, behaving uncharacteristically deferential towards Mulder. "I've been."

"Left..." the galled attendant said, his snootiness at full bloom, with his right hand, in the throes of giving visual direction, left hanging.

"Don't you just hate hospital stench?  So ANTIseptic," Langly blurted out as they passed three curious nurses' aides.  One, a very attractive brunette, with an unseemly, for proper hospital attire, minidress, made a crack to her companions about the length of Langly's 'stringy, yucky' hair, as Mulder appreciatively took her in.

"Jealous," Langly tossed over his shoulder, sounding petty-peeved, and told Mulder in a loud enough voice that nurses' aides were nurse wannabes.

They kept going until the area where Scully had been placed loomed up. She wasn't in a room proper, but there was a curtain that could be drawn around the bed to lend a measure of privacy.

When the two men stood before her bed, initially, they felt relieved.  That feeling changed like a violent shift in wind gust.  They were totally unprepared for the free-for-all reception.  Scully was fully conscious, EEG wires-free, and full of ginger to see the male visitors; Langly in particular.

"There you are, Kewpie Doll."  She thrust her arms out with intent to plaster him in a hug, grizzly bear style, scrawled on her face.  "I don't like it when you disappear on me!  Now get over here and gimme some sugar, Cutie, like you did before you vanished!  I'm waiting..."

"More like when you fell out again," Langly corrected disgustedly.

Gaping at his partner, Mulder sniped under his breath in Langly's direction, "No hanky-panky, huh, bud?"  He moved closer to Scully's right side of the bed, and wordlessly tried to impress upon her that HE was there.  When she kept on ignoring him, and continued showering all her superfluous attention on Langly, he lost patience.  "Hey, Scully, it's me.  Quit acting like I'm the invisible man."

"Uh, Mulder," Langly said worriedly, as he allowed Scully to latch onto his upper arm to appease her, muscling his face close to hers.  "I...I don't think she's acting.  She thinks I'm the greatest thing since laptops...  Easy, Dana, I ain't a rag doll.  I bruise easy."  Humoring her then, he kissed her tentatively on the cheek.  "It's cool you're conscious."

"I thought you said she was in a coma," Mulder fired at him nettlesomely.  The spectacle of Scully showering the computer phile with shameless affection was too much.  "What's with her coming on to you?"  Balking, he considered that seeing her act this way was more shocking than seeing her all those times stuck in medical facilities, fighting for her life.

"She was.  Guess she just snapped out of it," Langly shot back in kind, trying to wriggle free from the tenacious redhaired octopus.  "Beats me.  She's never let on she's had a thing for me.  It's the junk; probably freeing up her inhibitions."  His brow wrinkled in concern.  "I don't think she should stay here.  She needs Susanne.  If anyone can bust Scully outta this weird bag, man, my bread's on Mata Hari."

Mulder nodded in swift agreement.  "If you can make her stop attacking you long enough to dress her, I'll work on a speedy removal."

"Gotcha, buddy," Langly gasped as Scully sprang to her knees upon the bed, and into his bemused looking face, again, with her lips in pucker mode.  She proceeded to wrap her arms about his neck.  "I'm on it."  Frantically, he ordered, "Down, Dana.  Work with me!"

Mulder left the area, as though he had been endowed with winged feet.  Halfway down the hallway he fortuitously bumped into the two on-duty doctors who'd given Langly the brusque brush-off. "Doctors..."

The physicians halted their involved conversation between themselves, and turned their collective attention to the flushed agent. "Yes?" they intoned in synch.

He flipped his badge at them and spewed a glut of words.  "I'd like to speak with you concerning Special Federal Agent Dana Scully's present condition..."

Back in the care area, Langly promised Scully, "Whatever it takes, to get you back to sane, I'm down with it.  That's a three hundred-sixty degrees guarantee; unlimited warranty.  This can't be your future; every time you see me, you're all set to rock my world.  Not that I wouldn't mind, but NOT like this.  Not like THIS.  Dana, stop!"

"You talk too much, Cutie," Scully said, her words badly slurred.  She pressed her small frame into his torso.  "Kissing's better!  I want a real one this time," she beguiled.  "Long, and tonguey..."

*Ow...this just keeps gettin' sicker...*

Not seeing what was coming, in order to react fast enough, Langly gagged after she'd rammed her mouth into his, and began vacuuming his dry.  Her tongue was doing things he never knew could be done with the fleshy little member.  Struggling his darnedest to wrench free, he said into her lips, "Dana, you've gotta quit this.  You're chappin' these babies. They haven't seen this much action in a long--"

"Make me," she teased challengingly.  She wrestled him down onto the bed with her, clutching, then pinning him fierecly to her, just in time for Mulder to reappear with the physicians.  The big smile he wore for having succeeded in convincing them that discharging her in his care would be the best thing, and that handing over a copy of her blood work was a done deal, was effectively erased.

"Doodoo, cacca, poopoo," Langly crackled in sardonic irony.  "You're making a big, fat liar outta me, woman.  Mulder's gunna think we've had this hot an' heavy habit goin' on for a long time," he whispered close to Scully's ear.  Then to Mulder, "Uh...so, is Vamp Girl here sprung?"

"Almost," Mulder replied woodenly.  Whatever was wrong with Scully, he wished he were video taping this sultry little proceeding.  Make her believe how possible the impossible was?  A cinch, for sure, with her naked, alabaster legs coiled around Langly's waist, and she begging for it.  Oh God!

"Uh, hmm, uh, would you two rather be alone?  Wouldn't wanna cramp your style, Langly, ol' boy..."

"So very not funny," the befuddled conspiracy theorist rasped.  "Are you gunna help me get her clothes back on, or are you one of those guys who likes to watch?"  As Mulder went about untangling Scully from Langly, the blusher testily answered his own question.  "Oh, that's right, I forgot.  You are."

The doctors exchanged puzzled looks with each other, but were glad to see that their formerly comatose patient seemed to be out of crisis.  Yes, she was quite lissome, and extremely eager indeed.  A very healthy sign.

It appeared, now, in retrospect, that having had to find it necessary to forcibly eject this unorthodox individual from her bedside might have been a bit rash.  Perhaps they'd been overly gruff with her, who surely this scraggly-haired young man must be, ardent lover.

Mulder twisted his lips into a steely sneer, and labored hard, trying to restrain her from resisting his efforts to release Langly.  He braced himself, and really dug in.  "So very not funny," he crankily flung back.  Her strength never ceased to impress him.  But, her increased prowess could be drug-inspired, he painfully deduced.  Finally, succeeding in getting her into a firm, but gentle headlock, he said, "We'll take her to her place, see if we can settle her down, then contact Modeski."

"Mellowing her out'll be a piece of cake compared to locating Susanne."

"But I thought you said..."  Mulder fleered at Langly.  "Doesn't Byers know where she is?"

"If he did, do you think he'd still be with us?  'Hike and I think he would've married her in Vegas, in half a heartbeat, if she'd given him anything resembling a chance.  He doesn't have a clue where that chick is."

"Peachy..."

Mulder inhaled heavily and grimaced, a flood of invectives flowed from his pursed lips.  He relaxed his hold on Scully, while she continued making inane kissy-goo-goo faces at Langly. "Just great, Scarecrow.  Modeski's whereabouts unknown ...Scully rendered an over-sexed headliner straight outta one of my porn films."

The bomb Langly'd just dropped, was the worst data nugget Mulder had ever received in his life; X-Files-related all inclusive.  Without Modeski's intervention, was Scully destined to be a vegged-out Langly addict for the rest of her life?  Would she ride off into a drug-hazed sunset with him to live loony-spooning ever after?  Could it get much worse?

"Agent, Mulder," the slighter of the two physicians said inobtrusively, "I'll get her blood work to you in a jiff, for your agency's case files, while my colleague gives her vitals an additional check."

"Yeah, fine," Mulder responded, sounding not of this world.  Nor did he sound as though he came from the ones he got paid to investigate.

"'Danger, Will Robinson,'" Langly clamored, flailing his arms, noting that Scully was lunging for him again.

"Cutie," Scully piped up in a high-pitched over-anxious voice, "I'm thirsty!  G-get me a-a Coke!  A big, b-big Coke-a-Cola...like y-you did last night...pop-popcorn buttery, an' McDonald but-buttercakes.  More buttercakes!  I-I promise t-to be a good g-girl...B-but if you d-don't want me t-to bite you.  You bite m-me..."

Langly's eyelids drooped.  Scully yawned, but then, as though imbued with superhuman strength, broke Mulder's hold, and started bobbing up and down on the bed, regarding Langly with a, 'join me, this is fun' expression.

Langly stared at her wider-eyed.  He gave Mulder a shrug, shook his head, and under his breath said, "Weird...bottomless pit weird.  Now in this warped state she's startin' to remember stuff."  As his voice trailed off, something 'twitchy' he recalled Susanne saying about the antidote clicked.  *I must be goin' 'Zheimer's, forgetting something like that*  Early senility, he thought dismally, courtesy obsessive junk usage, and flinched.  With a genuflection to Mulder, and in a halting voice of posit, he strung words on the thread of his so-called iffy recollection.

"Caffeine.  Fatty acids...propionic acid; a re-constitution of dalapon ...rabid alkaloids present in the frontal cerebral lobe paradign... polypeptidal synaptic proteins in conjunction with purine-based compounds like caffeine, swirling 'round in the fishbowl I call the mind.  Big time impairment according to Mata Hari.  Yo, man, I think there's a kernel of a Golden Gate Bridge connection between Susanne's antidote's peculiar reaction in susceptible brain tissue, and high- flyin' Scully.  Now...if only I can truly hash out WHAT for a concrete model.  C'mon, L-T Memorandus, do your stuff...think, 'Dexter, THINK!"

"Are you a scientist, young man?  Or, at least, a first-year medical student?" the heavier-set, and elder doctor asked, bedazzled.  His higher estimation of Langly, whom he'd earlier branded as an unkempt, hard rock tee-shirt wearing slacker space cadet, blazingly evident.

Langly cracked wide his first, unburdened grin of the entire day.  "World class hacker, Mista M. Dee.  Same thing..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End

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