Lancet took the beaker. He swirled the glowing red liquid once, took a deep breath, and drank it slowly.
Blehhhhh!
What a horrible taste. It tasted like rusted copper and dark vegetables. He coughed, his face violently scrunching up in disgust as he handed the empty beaker back.
"Ugh, that is incredibly bitter," Lancet grimaced, wiping his mouth. "Is that what a heart tastes like? How can a sweet emotion like love come from something so bitter?"
Nurse Hallow paused, entirely caught off guard, before a genuine, bright smile broke across her face at the cheesy joke.
"How do you feel?" she asked, her eyes crinkling.
"Surprisingly normal," Lancet said with a shrug. "I don't feel any—"
He stopped mid-sentence. He instantly clutched his chest, his fingers digging into his uniform.
Dum. Dum. Dum.
