"Dr. Ziegler, I..." Tracer's face was as red as a beet, she was clearly struggling to find the words to say what was on her mind, and she attempted unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in her throat.
"What is it, Lena?" Angela Ziegler closed the door behind Tracer and then strolled back towards her desk, intent on gathering her stethoscope and otoscope to diagnose whatever malady was affecting the younger woman. "You're as red as a lobster, are you running a fever?"
"N-no, that's... not it," Tracer muttered in reply; the normally-energetic Brit took her sweet time following the doctor to her desk.
"No? Are you feeling ill? Did you eat something strange last night?"
"I... I want you to eat me," she finally blurted out! Shocked by the sudden outburst, Mercy dropped her otoscope, which fell to her desk with a clatter as she looked up at the fidgeting brunette. If it were possible for Tracer's face to turn any more red, it would have done so already, and she stared at the floor bashfully. "I want to be your breakfast." Her voice was much quieter this time, and the two women sat there in silence for a few moments as Mercy processed what she just heard; it was Mercy that finally spoke up.
"Lena, you cannot be serious," the blonde doctor replied. She wasn't sure this wasn't all some sort of prank at her expense, although Tracer never was much of an actor.
"I really mean it, Dr. Ziegler!" There was nervous determination in Tracer's voice, the kind of tone that made the doctor doubt whatever suspicions she had that this might not be genuine. "De-devour me! Like a strip of bacon!" Mercy's eyes finally met Tracer's for the first time that morning, and she could see the almost-burning desire in them. And while it's true that she hadn't made it to the mess hall since last night's dinner, and the idea of Tracer and eggs with her morning coffee did seem appealing...
