His stress level returned to pre-Twitter levels. She was going to need to be mollified somehow.
She pointed at his chest, and then toward their work space. She turned on her heels and strode away without looking back. He hung his head, embarrassed to have this talk again. Seriously—why wouldn’t she let this drop? He was trying, right? On his way back to the workspace, he started thinking that perhaps he’d need a new nurse. As nice and efficient as Julie was, her preoccupation with the bathroom–and diapers?!–was a bit alarming.
It was midmorning, and there was a lull in his schedule, but still. Was it fair to him to keep him from his inbox to talk about the “potty”?