The Artemis infirmary smelled faintly of antiseptic, old paper, and linseed oil.
Most hospitals tried to erase personality from their walls. Artemis had done the opposite. Adjustable conservation lamps cast warm amber light across the room while climate-control units hummed softly overhead. Glass cabinets displayed preservation materials alongside medical equipment. Even the monitoring stations looked less like hospital machines and more like restoration tools repurposed for impossible work.
Tansy slept beneath pale conservation blankets-- for now.
Galathea Brooks sat beside the bed with a phone in one hand and a growing headache behind her eyes.
That headache had nothing to do with ancient paintings.
It came entirely from her employee group chat.
The screen lit up with another message.
'CEO called her in again.'
A reply appeared seconds later.
'Honestly, if he looked at me like that, I'd abandon my workload too.'
Several laughing reactions followed.
