Norris Moore had been sleeping in a daze when she felt someone lifting the quilt, a chill seeping in from the outside. She shivered slightly, then found herself enveloped in a warm embrace.
She mumbled, "Trenton Smith?"
"Hmm." The man still had traces of the night's chilliness, carefully holding her shoulders without touching her wound, "Have you had dinner?"
"I have." Norris opened her eyes to look at him, "Is she alright?"
"She's still in the ICU." Trenton bent down and kissed her cheek, "It's a critical period. We'll have to see if she can make it through the next twenty-four hours."
"Was she hurt that badly this time?" Norris looked at the man's white collar in the dark, "Ever since I've been with you, she's been getting sicker and sicker, hasn't she?"
"..."
"This kind of suicidal schizophrenic is truly troublesome." Norris said in a low voice in his arms, "She might actually die if she's not careful."
"Norris."
