There was a wince as Hyperion wiped the slime from his eyes and flicked it onto the floor, surely to be wiped up later by one of the cleaning staff before refocusing eyes on the patient whom looked sympathetic. Whatever that greenish, yellow liquid that was coming out of the wound he was trying to treat from whatever strange illness his patient had gotten was smelling up the room and had, unfortunately for Hyperion, burst right into his face.

❝ Would you excuse me a moment? ❞

Hyperion quickly walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom to wash himself up, already catching stares from anyone who had a working nose who smelled the scent on him. He splashed a bit of water onto his face in the restroom but had a bad feeling that the smell was still there. Someone had come into the restroom and he asked them, in a semi-nervous tone.

❝ Do you smell anything strange? ❞