Dishonesty
"There you are, Vesca!"
He jumped up from his seat, turning to face the Chinese student that had slammed the door open, hair a mess and feet hurrying to take him besides the young American. "What happened?" he asked, concerned, as D took a moment to regain his breath.
"I hope you have falsified your father's handwriting at least once in your lifetime," he declared, pushing a bunch of papers into his hands. "I need a doctor to sign these."
Medical profiles, blood type, physical check-ups, and the like… "Hell, why? Scared of doctors?" Vesca chuckled.
D stared, then nodded.
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