The doctor-- a middle-aged man with a sharp face and a briskly impersonal demeanor, bustled into the room, scrubbing his hands and quickly firing off instructions to the nurse before he'd even glanced in his patient's direction.

Curtis slid to his feet, resting a reassuring hand against Grey's bare back for a moment, before slipping away.

"Okay, we'll try and make this quick," the doctor said, glancing between the two of them, clearly trying to figure both of them out. Good luck with that, asshole.