“How are you doing?” He asked, his voice little more than a whisper. The chair he sat in was rather old in appearance, one that had traveled from camp to camp, it seems.

The bandage around your torso was stained a reddish colour, although it hadn’t worked its way through the entire bandage like you thought it would.

He had been sitting with you for God knows how long, and he truly didn’t seem to be planning an exit yet. He was catering to your every need.