Time passed, as it did. Slow, annoying. Vin was positive he’d memorized every possible position of the clock hands on the wall. In further fact, he was on the verge of deciding he was going to have to buy a new clock, just so he could stop with the f*****g Pavlovian response every time the minute hand clicked over the twelve. Two days ago, Roux had finally cut the full-leg cast and replaced it with one that let Vin bend his knee, and if that wasn’t a f*****g blessing, Vin didn’t know what was. Of course, he wasn’t much of a churchgoer, but he didn’t think God would mind the appreciation.
Added bonus points: the cast on his wrist was off, too, and he’d regained quite a bit of his independence. He could get up from a chair and hobble to the bathroom without needing assistance, and for that
