INT. - SILVER CITY MORGUE - MORNING
Ray's hands always looked odd to her, cloaked in latex, though she'd been wearing rubber gloves on and off for most of her adult life. There was something slick and foreign about the way her skin stuck in partial patches to the inside of the white latex, as though she were a construct beneath a fake skin.
The double doors of the morgue's main room whispered open, her assistant, Robert Ling, poking his head inside. She'd sent him for fresh coffee, which he'd either forgotten or become sidetracked and mislaid.