Juliet is sitting at the desk in the back room of the infirmary. Sweat is dripping in a steady trail down her forehead, and she's swaying in her seat. She had been trying so desperately to concentrate on the blood cultures, but her attempt is now out the window and there's a glazed look in her eyes. Every so often she has to turn away and cough and fight off the darkness tugging at her vision.
Her face is twisted up and her eyes occasionally dart to the side of her, as if there's someone there only she can see. She hears a small noise and waves her hand impatiently as if flicking away a fly. It seems to return her to her previous task of studying the cultures - somewhat. She murmurs over her shoulder,