65: Piran
Piran
When Piran woke properly, Casey was in the room, and there was no sign of the white-coats.
She smiled, but the expression did nothing to hide the worry in her eyes. She leaned over him. He breathed in her smell, and it reminded him of apples, of trees and sunshine.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He was surprised his voice didn’t c***k.
“You collapsed.”
“Yeah?”
Casey nodded. Had her hair down today, and it hid half her face, made her look mysterious.
“Used my access to get into your room,” she said. “Found you in your chair. Thought you were sleeping at first, but you were drenched. White fingers, too—gripping the desk. I couldn’t get any response from you. So I called for help.”
“Thanks.”
Because what else could he say? If she hadn’t found him, he’d still be there, woul
