[The Medicine Seller, once again known as "Morita Shinichi" or whatever the name I made up last time he needed to have one was, is at his desk in the infirmary
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[Even if Mr. Shinichi doesn't buy the tuberculosis story, he'll still help Mr. Winchester bandage the cut on his hand from maddening dissections in the Biology lab, right? Right?
Dean raps on the jamb of the infirmary door, sidling in with a towel wrapped around his left hand.]
Hey, uh. Can we disinfect this? I think some frog goo got in it.
S'just a cut, Morita. [He rolls his eyes.] One of the kids was flailing around a scalpel during dissections, and there's probably embalming fluid all up in it.
[He grimaces apologetically. They've always gotten along fairly well.]
[Exceedingly grateful, he moves to Morita's side and slowly pulls the towel away. It's a clean cut, but it's definitely deeper than just a little slash.]
Don't worry, I sent the little bastard off to the principal's office.
Dean raps on the jamb of the infirmary door, sidling in with a towel wrapped around his left hand.]
Hey, uh. Can we disinfect this? I think some frog goo got in it.
[WINNING SMILE.]
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[He grimaces apologetically. They've always gotten along fairly well.]
Help?
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Come here.
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[Exceedingly grateful, he moves to Morita's side and slowly pulls the towel away. It's a clean cut, but it's definitely deeper than just a little slash.]
Don't worry, I sent the little bastard off to the principal's office.
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