After stepping out of the shower, I felt refreshed and squeaky clean. No lingering scent of alcohol, no traces of vomit or food on me. Wrapped in a towel, I braved the cold, my teeth chattering. Ignoring Damon's presence, I hurried to get dressed, feeling a bit embarrassed about my lack of clothing under the towel. As I left the dressing room in my ivory robe, I spotted Damon asleep on the bed, having drunk the soup.
"I wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing," I mused to myself.
As I prepared it, the taste was satisfactory, but I wouldn't call myself a connoisseur. The coffee and aspirin had been consumed, and I carefully moved the tray from the bed to the nightstand beside him.
Leaning in to listen to his breathing, I confirmed that he was still breathing. The soup hasn't cause
