The thermal paper curled upward against the chrome lip of the register with a soft, dry whisper.
Julian didn’t tear the strip away. He leaned over the counter, his hands resting on either side of the printer’s metal exit guide.
“Don’t pull the roll,” Julian cautioned quietly. “Thermal paper shears under lateral tension. If the feed jams, Arthur’s buffer drops the frame.”
Elena stood at his right elbow, her arms crossed over her scrub top. Her eyes were fixed on the tiny black characters burning into the white coating.
“How fast is she typing?” Elena asked.
“Thirty-two words a minute,” Julian replied, glancing at the pulse rate on the Nihon Kohden auxiliary display. “That was her standard practice speed in high school. She’s typing in a sustained cadence.”
Mac stepped around the edge of the candy rack, his heavy boots silent on the linoleum. “Is that English, or is it code?”
“It’s an examination paper,” Julian said, his voice tightening. “Look at the header format.”
