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You can see, can't you, Ms. Lacrosse? The preposterous notion that this nanny of a woman knew more than he in medical practice and the state of Jezebel's well-being was laughable at best. She couldn't smell the Golden Cap spores that stained her lips, nor the sweet odor of diluted blood lacking iron. All she saw was the gore staining his Persian rug, avoiding the inevitable question that loomed in secret: Jezebel's autoimmune disease, more commonly called Anemia. Had it even been a paper cut, she would be bleeding like a stuffed pig. But why the secrecy? There was no doubt why this woman had been picked to repl