Scully was checking on people. People who were there looking randomly ill. Did they have cancer? Maybe they had ebola! Maybe it was an alien narcotic coursing through their system, transforming them into flies-- no, wait, she'd already experienced that
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"I ... I need help," she sighed. "Please help me."
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Wrigley's swooned, dramatically, into the nearest chair, one hand artfully on her forehead.
"Could I have a lollipop?" she asked. "Orange, if you have them."
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Very helpful answer, Wrigley's.
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Just then, she looked off into the distance, and the screen blurred as a plaintive musical cue stirred on the soundtrack. There were men there, two of them!
"You lied! You lied to me!"
An ... an argument!?!??!?!!?!?!!?
Wrigley's gaped at the nurse as the music faded back in, and the lighting un-dimmed. "You ... you mean like that one!"
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"Yes, exactly like that!" exclaimed the one with the clipboard. One more symptom and she'd have Bingo! "I think we can safely say that you're probably very distraught! Do you have a feeling of creeping danger? Would you like us to notify authorities to protect you, or would you feel safer in one of our Examination Rooms, where we can summon an Achingly and Inappropriately Worried Doctor of your preferred gender for you?"
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"It's no use," she sighed. "I don't know what gender I'm attracted to. I'll have to come back if I figured it out."
Perhaps she could look at filthy magazines until she got a clearer idea. Or possibly try screwing some cops, and see which ones she enjoyed it with the most?
"Thank you, kind nurses," she said, standing and bowing as though she was benevolent royalty. "I shall return if the writers run out of ideas."
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Then they handed her another lollipop. 'Cause that's how they rolled.
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