Hugo was whistling while tossing and catching a baseball ball in the air.
"I'm… bored," he sighed for the umpteenth time this morning. He snapped his eyes at the bed beside him, his face twisting. "How come he still hasn't woken up? As far as I remember, he was shot in the back and not in the head."
He shook his head, thinking about how he willingly volunteered to stay with the guy. Who would have thought it would take this long?!
"If you're going to die, just do it." He waved his hand dismissively. "If not, then just wake up."
It wasn't like Hugo had been here all this time — he was here most of the time, but that didn't mean he didn't leave the guy. There were times Hugo had to go here and there, sneaking out carefully because he was still a patient.
