Eleanor sent another prayer up to whoever had been listening to her prayers that had woken Francesco up. Except now, she was praying for patience. Francesco woke up on his worst behavior, mad that he'd been shot. Mad that he had to heal, mad that he couldn't work.
It had been a little over a week — eight days exactly since Francesco had first awoken. He was groggy and in pain, but soon after the doctors were able to get him to calm down with a heavy dose of morphine.
He had healed incredibly well for his body to have taken so much damage. While healing hospital-wise had been graceful, the pain and sensitivity he felt had been less than.
After discharging him, he hadn't been able to move around the house properly, unable to completely stand on his own. Tonight would be their first night
