"Not even if that girl tried to bribe you with a drink afterward?" she replies, her sensibility immediately leaping to the forefront in her consciousness to inform her what a horrible idea that is. She's flirting. She has an open wound on her hand and she's flirting with the doctor who's about to be wielding a needle and thread into her skin in only a couple minutes, and she's flirting.

Beyond all that, she now has to sit here and try to quell the flush in her face as they wait for the numbness to kick in, half-praying that it will somehow spread to the rest of her body so she doesn't have to experience any more of this utter mortification. She keeps her hand steady, clearing her throat softly, and then shakes her head. "No, you can stay." Waiting alone in one of these exam rooms has always creeped her out a little.