Gallentean3

Trauma Center: Happy Hour Dr. Tyler Chase cracked his knuckles as he paced around the room.  His shoes made a distinct clack against the tiled floor, which echoed softly in the quiet.  He circled a small area of the room before stopping abruptly.  In a fluid motion, he thrust his arms outward, palms exposed and fingers sprawled. "Behold!  This invisible wall that I do hold!  Evil forces may brush against, but they cannot penetrate what is not to be seen." His voice carried itself in strong, rhythmic beats, but was held with considerate softness so as not to disturb those outside.  Another series of sharp footsteps answered his cry.  Dr. De