Kyla's cell phone lost its tenuous signal before it could get through to Delano. She groaned and dropped it on the couch.
"This is frustrating," she said to Albert. "The network is terrible. I don't know how bad you're doing internally but your physical wounds say alot." She had pulled the stadium blanket off his head, but it was bunched around his shoulders. The wool was wet, unmelted sleet still clinging to it. She noticed he looked so cold, wet, and uncomfortable.
Of course, she couldn't complain of her discomfort. The only discomfort she felt was born out of her inability to retrieve the orchid tonight and get him the help he clearly needs.
He was sitting upright but swaying as though at any moment he would topple over. Fresh blood had soaked the black watch cap. Frost clung to his eyebrows and eyelashes, making him look ghostly.
She motioned toward his eyes. "You've got—"
"Frost? You've got it, too. It'll go away in a minute."
