Doc please. You gotta help me with my arm. They bit my hand, I gotta take it off. I'll pay you!
Leaning on the doorway, he watched the stranger clutching at their arm. A nasty zombie bite on the side of the hand, just above the wrist. "No.. No I can't. You might infect the rest of my patients."
Another person demanding his services. What, out of the goodness of his heart?
He'd long since hardened that. People take too much advantage of you. You have to either do it first, or look out for yourself and kick them to the curb while you-
He paused. They'd pay, huh?
"-I.. I guess I could. Step in, lay on the table to your right."
He'd take their money AND their good organs after slicing the arm off.


















