"Yes, it's fine," replied Zeto somewhat cheerily, "I haven't much else to do, you know."
Which was the truth. Excepting his job, he had very, very little to do with his time. He'd go to and from the facility to his house, which was fortunately close by, and he'd spend much of his time alone. Sometimes, either Sanguine or Presmodia would stop by, and he always loved it when that happened, but Presmodia didn't make any appearances at his house anymore . . . or even in the facility at all. If Zeto wasn't mistaken, Presmodia had missed two appointed physical check-ups over the last months. It was of worrisome.
Nonetheless, Zeto would stay behind while Kremnaes went to scour the place for human medication.
And unfortunately, Kremnaes would have no such luck. Dr. Tyrian Sturm medicated himself not with traditional medicines, but experimental drugs that he and his Ersatzshad engineers created and tested--usually on Tyrian himself. Most of the time, these all worked. A couple of times, they backfired. Either way, though, they were mainly tailored to Tyrian himself, with side effects ranging from an almost painful alertness to all things to a physical inability to sleep. The only traditional medications he had were ones to boost the user's metabolic rate. After all, when one didn't sleep, one's metabolic rate fell quickly.
Upon Kremnaes's inevitable return, however, he'd find that Zeto was leaning over the table, over Shin Shiden. He seemed to be closely examining the man, but mainly his chest. He was tracing his fingertips across the man's sternum, with his brow furrowed in thought.