Royal sighed, sitting on the ground a mere feet away from Enma. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stared at the older man, who was huddled in a ball in the corner of the dingy cell, trying his hardest to get away from Royal.
He didn’t say anything; he had seen him like this a few times now, where he had somehow managed to come just after Rick’s visit, where whatever he did to Enma was so cruel that the man would shut down for a few hours. Royal had learned in these times that all he had to do was sit there, quietly offering his company, and Enma, when feeling somewhat better, would come to him on his own.
Royal closed his eyes; he could feel the weed wearing off, and he knew if he saw Enma in this situation, sober, he would end up crying, and Enma did not need his pity, a
