“If all you do is injectables, you’re going to have old skin with fewer wrinkles.”
She trains her unblinking gaze on my skin. I imagine I hear cyborg bleeps as her mind processes the data flow (she holds three degrees from Harvard). She looks sharply at me, writes rapidly in a notebook; looks again, writes rapidly, then shares her plan of attack. “It’s all coordinated,” she says in her blunt, rapid-fire way. “If all you do is injectables, you’re going to have old skin with fewer wrinkles.”