T
Literature
The Doctor is Dead Letting out a hiss of breath, Ignatius strode over to the far side of the parlor. Gently lifting an ornate, crystal decanter he poured its contents into the solitary glass beside it. "Ah... bit of the hair of the dog eh?" the patron chuckled nervously in an attempt to break the chilling silence. "We all have our vices, Mr. Monroe. Now tell me, what has brought you back to my offices today?" Monroe sat humbly, hands fiddling with the brim of the hat that sat in his lap. His anxious gaze flitted everywhere but on the good doctor himself, finally settling on the crystal decanter itself. Monroe watched a singular droplet of a viscous, red substance trail down its side. "You... you see Dr. Ardent. I-" he let out a small nervous cough to clear his throat, "heh sounds like I could use a nip as well." "Pity." "Ah" "Mr. Monroe, when you arrived at my door I told you I was not that sort of doctor did I not?" "Ah you did sir, but-" "And I forwarded your care to someone with