"Busy replying to your little lovers, are you?" Saoirse stepped into the room holding a slightly frosted ceramic bowl, her tone tinged with sarcasm. "Well, I suppose it makes sense. You've been unconscious for days without a single word. I bet your precious flings outside were all losing their minds."
She sneered as she watched Veil busy tapping on his phone. That expression on her face, coupled with the bowl in her hand—anyone would think this was a scene straight out of a classic novel.
Time to drink the medicine!
"Do I… really have to drink this?" Veil gulped and asked meekly.
Saoirse rolled her eyes. "Medicine? This is millet porridge, you idiot. You've been surviving on nutrient drips the past few days. The doctor said now that you're awake, you can't touch anything greasy or heavy. You're only allowed light grains and simple food for now."
Whew...
