"How is she doing?" Ewan asked Athena as he stepped into the room where Florence was kept under strict hospital supervision.
She seemed to be sleeping—this first patient to be treated with the new cure—and to avoid leakage, and for her protection too, guards were mounted even outside her door.
"Better. She is recuperating…" Athena muttered, her arms crossed against her chest, eyes trained on her grandmother, darting at times to her grandfather who was sitting on a stool close to the bed. He had not let go of Florence's hand, nor stopped watching her, except for the few seconds when Ewan had stepped into the VIP room.
"That's great." Ewan moved closer, placing a hand on Old Mr. Thorne's shoulders and giving a gentle squeeze—conveying both comfort and relief.
Old Mr. Thorne tapped his hand twice softly, before asking him of his journey.
"Went well…" Ewan answered, meeting Athena's now curious gaze.
"Sure? Is that why you came with security?"
