"Not poorly." Which was true. Since joining Starfleet, McCoy had lost any of that hint of civilian weight that had only just started threatening his horizon. His family was blessed with a high metabolism anyway. How else could you explain vast quantities of sweet tea and not a care in the world.

The suggestion of salt was met with a dubious glance, but Bones had heard of his fair share of superstitions. He even carried a few for his own sake.

"You think that's going to stop whatever is out there?"

Salt however, seemed like a better option than waiting around, so Leonard rooted through cupboards until he found a bag of it. He dutifully lined the entrance of the door frame and hoped like hell no one but this woman actually saw him acting like a apprentice witch doctor gone rogue.

"That good?"