He didn't say anything, although I could feel his eyes boring through the flimsy sheet, and I lay there until I felt the springs creak as he got up and I could hear his footsteps retreating. When he came back with my clothes over his arm I was sitting up. While I was dressing he tried to talk to me, but I would have none of it.
When I was dressed I said, "Now, you were saying—?"
I drew a long speculative stare. "Peter, what's eating you?"
I told him. "I just got tired of being shoved around. With the physical exam over with you give me one reason why I should sit around in my bare hide. Am I a machine? My name's Miller, not the Patient in Cell Two."
He thought he was being reasonable. "And you think you get results by knocking around people that are trying to help you?"
"With some people, you do. I tried talking, and that didn't work. I got action my way, didn't I?"
He sighed. "Action, yes. Do you know what Kellner said?"
"Not interested. Whatever he's got to say to me is going to have a please in front and a thank you after."
Wearily, "Peter, must you always act like a child?"
"No, I don't," I blazed at him. "But I'm damn well going to. I'm free, white and a citizen, and I'm going to be treated like one, and not a side-show freak!"