It had been 6 hours since you had broken your ankle and currently, you were in your boyfriend’s room, currently sitting on the edge of the bed as Richard looked over your broken ankle.

“So, how’s the ankle?” He asks, kneeling in front of you as I looked up at you, curious on the state of your ankle.

You tell him it’s fine then hold your hand out, asking him what the various pills were. He takes a look at your hand and says, “Looks like a Vicodin, Lipitor, two percocets, half a peptobismol and a green m&m.”

He looks up from your hand and as he does, he watched you stuff the handful of pills and whatnot into your mouth and swallow while making direct eye contact with him.

He raises a brow and broth a deadpanned expression and tone, he asks you after you swallow, “Why would you do that?”