[And he will, in fact, be there in ten. Hanging over his shoulder is a satchel packed with a change of clothes for Lucretia (a pair of jeans, a shirt and in a fit of incredible kindness, the soft and giant hoodie he stole from Magnus a few weeks ago), one of the books he'd found on her bedside table, her toothbrush, and a container of fresh brownies. His hands are occupied by two coffees, one full of whipped cream and sugar for himself and a far more sensible one for Lucretia; they're both from outside, because even he knows not to drink hospital coffee.
When he spots Lucretia, he lifts one of those coffees in a lazy greeting.]
no subject
[And he will, in fact, be there in ten. Hanging over his shoulder is a satchel packed with a change of clothes for Lucretia (a pair of jeans, a shirt and in a fit of incredible kindness, the soft and giant hoodie he stole from Magnus a few weeks ago), one of the books he'd found on her bedside table, her toothbrush, and a container of fresh brownies. His hands are occupied by two coffees, one full of whipped cream and sugar for himself and a far more sensible one for Lucretia; they're both from outside, because even he knows not to drink hospital coffee.
When he spots Lucretia, he lifts one of those coffees in a lazy greeting.]
Hey, bubbale.