Sam knocked quietly on the door, then used her key to open it. "Cedric? How's he doing?" Her arms were full of magazines, orange juice, chicken broth, crackers, and tylenol.
"It's actually good that he was up to shower," Sam told Cedric as she dragged a chair over next to the bed, "it'll help keep his fever down. Did he eat or drink anything?"
Sometimes Sam thought she'd spent too much time in the infirmary.
He shakes his head and goes to stand on the opposite side of the bed. "Not while I've been here, no. He didn't seem to have much interest in eating. And you, how are you?"
"Tired," Sam sat down. "And I think it's more important that he stay hydrated than that he eat. Tea, water, juice, heck, even soda if that's what he wants. How're you?"
"Want me to stay and keep you company, or get out of your hair so you can worry in private?" Sam asked. "And what happened this week? Is everything alright, other than Jack?"
"It's fine," he laughs and does indeed pour two glasses of whatever Sam wanted, la. "And it is. I haven't done much just to make sure I'm all right thus...nothing happening."
Sam took her glass and sipped, just for something to do. "That's too bad. Want to do something? I could get a deck of cards? We could trade our life stories?" She smiled innocently at him.
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"He was up to take a shower," Cedric says, scratching at the back of his neck. "And fell back asleep easily but something about that dream upset him."
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Sometimes Sam thought she'd spent too much time in the infirmary.
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Which is the problem. He doesn't mention that though.
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Jack stirred slightly on the bed, then settled.
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