[In goes the chemical, and her test tube turns... a disappointing shade of blue. Apparently it was disappointing, anyway, because she sighed, and huffily put the tube in one of the many racks cluttering up her desk along with various texts and dried herbs.

Only then did she turn in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and holding out her hand for the treats she could smell through the somewhat acidic scent of her quarters, even with her window wide open.]

I have proposed to the subject that you meet in person- if they give their consent, then I should hope good would come of it. Your abilities would be most helpful based on my early prognosis.

[She has to sigh, though- honestly, control through the heart, it's so...]

Quite poetic, is it not? Not the brain, but the heart...