Obfuscation

[anotherknight]

They've overseen his care with a degree of vengeance. It isn't beginning to rack his nerves. The advanced stage of irritation peaked weeks ago. Now he's riding out not only a pain in his stomach but an ire forced to its limits. He's suspicious of every bite of food, every drop of liquid served. Between Alfred, Dick and Leslie, the sedatives have rotated no less than a dozen times. They all have a similar aftertaste, an aspect he uses to his advantage. The last dose arrived in a bowl of soup. Too bad he wasn't hungry.

At least resting on his side is an option these days. The wound is absent of stitches and healing. Vigorous activity is still absolutely forbidden. Sleep, as always, is the prescription. His back is currently turned to the newest "visitor".