Granger steps into the room, water dripping from his hair and jacket, the faint scent of rain clinging to him. His eyes fall on you, tucked under the blanket, shivering slightly in the cold air-conditioned room. He lets out a low sigh and moves closer.

Carefully, he sets a towel on the nightstand, then picks up the steaming cup of tea he made earlier. He places it gently beside you, making sure it won’t tip over.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely, eyes still on you. “Drink it,” he says quietly, his voice calm but firm. “It’s hot. It’ll help.”