"I'm amazed, she hasn't turned and it's been a week since you scratched her," Ravi says to me, Midnight was still asleep in the office, "I think that she may be the answer to perfecting our cure for zombieism."
"Geez, could you say it any louder? I don't think she heard you," I say sarcastically.
"I heard, loud and clear, and I know all about Team Z," Midnight says as she walks over, "I only realised that my father was a member after he died, there was barely any blood."
"M!" I exclaim and jump a little, "How much of that did you hear?"
"Enough to know you're a member too, Dad told me about zombies, I was scratched by one once and that was two years ago, he started doing tests after a month when he saw I didn't turn but came up with nothing. He couldn't find anything special about me that could contribute to my immunity. There was an obvious factor that he didn't think of though," she says.
"And what factor might that be?" Ravi asks curiously.
"The mutation that changed my eye color into something really unusual," she says and taps her sunglasses.
"I just realized that you never take those off," I say.
"You've been on my oblivious mother's brain," she points out.
"I just thought they were special sunglasses because your eyes were sensitive," Ravi says.
Midnight shakes her head then looks down and takes off her glasses, "Nope, just cheap, two dollar sunglasses you could get at any corner store," she says then looks up at us while pushing her hair behind her ear.
"Wow, amber eyes are extremely rare and very beautiful," Ravi says.
"They look like gold," I say.
"Yep, my dad used to say people would try to steal my eyes because they were gold but he was just making a joke, I was twelve so I believed it. Kids made fun of me because of the color, calling me a machine, the way I acted didn't help so I started wearing sunglasses to hide my eyes and I would always use the excuse that they're sensitive to any kind of light," she says then puts her sunglasses on her head. "Enough about my eyes, Liv needs a new brain and it should be as close to stable as possible so there's no major, freaky personality changes or whatever. My dad's had a klepto, insomniac, I forget the term for someone who never goes outside, a person with PTSD or so I assume because he would wake up at night and be screaming his head off. He's had someone with a huge ego, anxiety," she continues to name off conditions as she searches through files, "and a really weird one that made him go around the house while shirtless, that one was awkward. I mean he was fit but it's weird to see dude nips, especially since he was my dad."
She eventually finds one that was as stable as they could get, it was our most recent murder victim, insomniac, not good but it was the best we had and I could deal with it. It was either that or a bunch of druggies and PTSD sufferers. She actually took control and cooked it for me, that homemade brain burger was the best thing I have ever tasted since I died.
"I used to cook a lot, I always made Dad's meals super spicy and he would tell me what he liked best. What you have there is a ghost pepper, jalapeño, and chilli pepper brain burger with sriracha and hot sauce on a jalapeño bun," Midnight says.
"That was amazing!" I say after finishing it, "If I had to complain about something, it would be the bun was a little on the dry side."
"Blame the ingredients, not the cook, I just used what you had here," she says, "oh, I also ordered take out for you and me, Ravi."
"Good because, as much as I don't want to admit it because it's brains, that smells delicious and I'm starving," he says from the operating table as he looks at a cadaver's open chest.
