Swamped

Perhaps it's safest if you downplay what you know. He still might think you're hiding something, but he shouldn't get the wrong idea at least.

"Do you happen to know what murderflies look like?" you ask. "Because I found a strange dead insect in the donated clothes. I didn't know what to make of it."

He looks at you, concerned.

"Let me see," he says.

You show him. He examines it closely. His eyes widen in surprise.

"It's had its blood drained? If it's still intact, that can't have happened all that long ago." He pauses. "I've still got to do what I can here. But if he got a full dose of murderfly blood..." He pauses again. "Well, we don't know anything. When did you find that?"

You think back. You woke up. You snuck into the records room. You put a flyer into your pocket and found the insect...

"After I woke up," you say, with realization dawning. "So anybody could have slipped it in there while I was asleep."

"Not anybody. Somebody in this hospital," the doctor mutters. You can't tell what exactly he's doing. "Thing is, this might actually be a mixed blessing. A lot of the worst stuff that happens with murderfly blood is body processes going wrong. If he's out this hard, it might actually be keeping him alive. Though if he stays like this, it might be the sort of alive that's no better than dead."

"You sound like you're getting at something."

"Sorry," he mutters. "Trying to concentrate on the patient, and trying to think about the problem at the same time. So here's where we're a little lucky. There isn't really an antidote for murderfly toxin, but we do know of a treatment that helps the body pass it through. It's just hard to get ahold of in the swamps - but a lot easier in a port town. We might need a way to wake him up, though..."

He nearly skipped past the most important part.

"You didn't mention what the treatment was."

"Right, sorry. Distracted. What you need is..."