My Boss is Felix: Alternative Miraculous Ladybug Tale

Ch47: Emilie Agreste

"I see it plainly in your records. There's no point in hiding it."

I sighed, hesitantly tugging off my long blonde hair, to reveal my empty skull. I looked just like the skeleton - we were twins now. Whenever my head was bear like this - whenever the real me was shown - I felt humiliated. Even in front of doctors.

I couldn't make eye contact. I didn't want to see the disgusted look in his face.

"Relax, Emilie. You still look attractive," he chuckled.

"Don't patronize me," I said, lowering my head in shame.

"I'm not," he said, gently guiding my chin until his soft eyes were melting mine. Why was my heart racing? It couldn't be true! He was just being cruel.

"Have you noticed any signs of weakening in your muscles?" He asked, eyeing my scalp before pulling out his stethoscope and placing the knob against the blue hospital gown covering me.

"No," I said quickly.

"Any heart palpitations or chest pains?"

"Only sometimes," I said, "very mild."

"And you are taking your medication?" He questioned, placing the scope on my back.

"Yes," I hesitated.

"Ms. Emilie," he said sternly.

"Sometimes," I admitted, "If it weren't for that crap, I'd still have my hair."

"You need to take those pills everyday," he scolded, "Otherwise the inflammation could..."

"What difference does it make? I'm dying anyway," I muttered, crossing my arms like an angry child.

"Everyone is dying," Adrien said, "That's no excuse to give up early."

"Who are you to tell me what I should or shouldn't do?" I challenged.

He ignored my comment, "Do you still smoke cigarettes?"

"Wait, is that on my record?" I asked, trying to peak at his screen.

"I recommend chewing nicotine gum until you are able to break this addiction. Unless you want lung damage in addition to your heart problems," he said.

"Please delete that. Whatever it says. Just delete it. I won't tell anyone you did it. Besides I only smoke like one a week. Not enough to count as a full fledge addiction."

"It's staying on your record," he said flatly.

I huffed. He placed his fingers on the sides of my neck to feel my swollen glands.

"Your hands are cold," I grumbled.

"My apologies," he said.

"And you're making me dizzy," I said, avoiding eye contact.

"Is that so?" He chuckled.

"And you're not even taking me seriously! Is there a review I can fill out? I'm ranking you low. You're a very bad nurse," I said.

"I'm a physicians assistant, not a nurse," he said.

"Tomato tomato," I muttered, "I'm still going to tell Dr. Moulin to fire you."