"What are you doing?" Samuel Johnson looked at the hand that was being held down and quirked an eyebrow, "I just wanted to see if you were hurt?"
Amanda Smith kept her head slightly lowered, the light falling on her exposed skin, revealing a translucent paleness.
Her fingers pressed on Samuel Johnson's hand with some determination, "No need… I'm fine."
Her ingratitude irritated Samuel Johnson a bit.
Coolly withdrawing his hand, the man got off the bed, got dressed, and then glanced again at Amanda Smith sitting on the bed.
For some reason, he always felt her pallor to be somewhat terrifying.
And her figure, head bowed, seemed altogether too pitiable.
Amanda Smith shifted slightly, and a flash of sharp pain made her break out in a cold sweat again. Seeing Samuel still standing there, she spoke weakly, "Samuel, could you get my bag for me? It's over there."
Following her gesture, Samuel Johnson indeed saw Amanda Smith's backpack on the couch.
