"And here I thought that perhaps your sense of humour had gotten better with age," the doctor tutted. "But, if getting right to the, hmm, point is what you'd prefer, far be it for me to let you down."

A good conversation was always enjoyable, but he also could respect a man - or turtle, in this case - who preferred to get right down to business. They both knew the score here, so there was no point in delaying matters any further. There were more important tasks at hand.

Selecting one of the syringes, the doctor carefully turned back so that Michelangelo could watch as he drew the contents of the vial into it, carefully freeing the trapped air bubbles and setting down the empty vial again. Next came a brief swab with a medicated wipe to sterilise the chosen area: a section right in the centre of a large scar on the man's body.

"I would tell you that this is only going to be a little pinch," the doctor said, amiably, "but we both know that's going to be lie, don't we?"

With that said, he pressed the tip of the syringe to the flesh, pushing it down and into the muscle and then slowly releasing the vibrant drug.