Ray, still lying motionless on the bed, had been pretending to be in a coma-like state. He'd been sprawled there dramatically, his face a picture of exhaustion, one arm thrown across his forehead. But the moment he heard the sound of food being unveiled, his eyes snapped open. He blinked once, twice, before pushing himself up with surprising speed, his back straightening as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"You," Ray said with exaggerated slowness, as if he were waking from the deepest slumber, "you only care about food, huh?" His voice was a groggy growl, a perfect mix of sarcasm and drowsy humor.
He wiped his face lazily with the back of his hand, still half-dazed. But as his fingers brushed against his skin, he caught sight of the powder smeared across his face, his cheeks now glowing a bright, rosy hue. The action of wiping only made his face look even more ridiculous, like someone who'd just been caught in the middle of a powdered sugar storm.
