Lemuel is leaning against the door frame of the infirmary at the moment, watching Anastasia from a distance.
She was sitting on the bed and had her back to him, but no doubt she would have picked up on his presence had she not been in this worn-out state. As it were, the entirety of her attention remained on his life-long rival, Zen.
He had woken briefly yesterday morning - long enough to catch up with her, but the sedative effects of whatever painkiller Harley had him on soon put him out again.
Anastasia sat there in silence, hands folded on her lap. There was nothing particularly unusual about the scene - the space between her and Zen remained decorous. And yet, Lemuel couldn't help but feel like he was trespassing on a private moment.
"This aggravates me," he hissed underneath his breath.
