Bleach Quincy Sternritter Novels & Stories

I crack my neck and stand, not feeling any more rested than I did last night. “Did they clean the bathroom?” I ask her. “You’ll smell it when you walk out. Apparently, they were told to get every spot of blood off the tile and out of the grout. They used a lot of bleach,” she says, taking the seat I was sitting in. I look over Christy’s vital signs, checking the recordings from overnight before finally stepping outside. I’m a bit surprised to see that Quirin is gone, but there’s nothing comfortable about sleeping in waiting room chairs.