It feels like it's been hours since Eric left to get your medication, and you could feel your body physically deteriorating without the relief of of it. Taking refuge in the large (mostly infact) chapel, the only sound to soothe you from the silence was the occasional squeak of a shoe or a small sniffle. You weren't sure if those sniffles came from shared sickness or tears, but both seemed reasonable to you.

Eventually, Eric was back -albeit a little disheveled, but he seemed more than relieved to be back from his trip to the pharmacy. He carefully sits down on the ground, leaning his back against the hardwood bench you were laying on as he pulls something out of his pockets. He holds up the small flat box, showing the label "Fentanyl" on the front, forcing a exhale of relief to enit from you.