“Not now,” he said, a little coldly, such a contrast to how he usually spoke to you. You had been trying to get him to go to sleep for ten minutes now and Chant’s patience was running thin. No matter how much he said later, you were still pestering him about going to bed.

“For fucks sake!” He yelled at last, hand tightening over papers. “I said enough!” He said, before in a fit of rage and stress, he threw his hand back, accidentally hitting you right with the back of his hand on your cheek.