As Courfeyrac intimated earlier to Phedre, Sagramore isn't doing as well as he could be. It's not because of anything, really, just some sort of neurological fail, but his seizures have been unusually frequent and unusually difficult
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So here she is, rapping at the door, she has a basket of goodies on her arm, and a brave smile.
She promised herself she wouldn't look worried, and that she wouldn't mother him - mostly because she realizes he hates that. She's just here to bring some sunshine in his room.
She's not going to go anywhere, though.
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Still smiling, and warm, and sweet.
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