Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 14
Hit 40k today. I don't think I'll be writing much more, and I have like.. 3 more chapters to post. I'll post a second one later today, and another two tomorrow. I'd rather not flood my flist. :)
Previous Chapters:
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Jazz cleared his throat, taking his time as he stood in front of his father’s Council. Alexandra and Mitchel both stared back at him expectantly, Regan and Samantha both focusing their attention elsewhere. “I know it’s been a few days since I last sat in a meeting with you all,” he began, offering them all a slight smile. “First thing’s first -- the Western colonies have agreed to begin the development of new trade routes to the other colonies.”
Alexandra nodded, and now the rest of them had their attention on him, as well. Mitchel frowned, twirling a pen between his fingers. “Have we answered the question as to how we’re going to fund such an endeavor?” he asked, pursing his lips together.
“I’ve done some rearranging with the Empire’s funds,” Jazz answered, straightening his back. He ran his hands along the front of his suit, smoothing it down. He desperately wanted to reach up and fix his hair -- he had a feeling Savin had messed it up far worse than the other man had been willing to admit. His backside was sore, as well, causing him to be unwilling to sit. “The budget had included various defense expenses that are, quite frankly, no longer needed now that the war with United is over.”
“We still have to be able to protect our territory, Prince Jasper,” Regan murmured, frowning himself as he flipped through his own set of paperwork. “How do we expect to prepare ourselves for another attack from our neighboring Empire if we don’t spend any money on defense?”
“He said that he only reassigned the funds no longer needed to the Western Colonies, Novak,” Samantha muttered, tapping her pen on top of the table. “I would assume that Prince Jasper is intelligent enough to keep the basic defense spending still in place so that we can protect the borders of the Empire.”
“That would be correct,” Jazz said, clearing his throat again. He settled into his seat, careful of how he sat. Next time, he’d have to insist Savin use more lube than he had. “I only pulled enough from the defense budget to cover the trade routes. Considering the revenue I foresee us bringing in, we will make that money back and then some within a couple of years in taxes.”
“I suppose...” Mitchel sighed. He looked away from Jazz, placing his pen down on top of the table. “What about the Resistance, Prince Jasper? Surely you can’t expect to let them get away with nearly killing your father, can you?”
“We can’t prove that the Resistance was involved in my father’s assassination attempt, Councilor Foraker,” Jazz said, folding his hands on top of the table just like his father would have done. “Now, if the Resistance wants to step forward and take full responsibility for my father’s near death, I suppose spending the time and energy on a fruitless manhunt might be worth it, but... Currently, the Palace Guard is investigating the attack. The gunman hasn’t been found.”
“We don’t need proof to know the Resistance had a hand in it,” Mitchel argued, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “If all we do is sit and wait to see what sort of evidence we can come up with, then there will not be a chance to ensure it never happens again.”
“Even if it was the Resistance, Foraker, there’s no way of ensuring that Emperor Callahan won’t get shot again,” Alexandra pointed out, pursing her own lips together. She glanced back at Jazz, who gave her a slight nod of his head so that she could continue. “Capturing a single gunman, and perhaps the men who hired him, is about the best we can hope for, in the long run. If the Resistance is as vast as they claim to be, we will likely never find them all, to begin with.”
“Agreed,” Jazz said, settling into his seat. “Do any of you have any other concerns you would like to address with me, at this particular point in time?”
“Yes,” Regan said, leaning forward and resting his own hands on the table. “How much longer until your father can return to his Empire? The people are growing restless with the lack of media coverage on his case.”
“The people will get their news tonight,” Samantha said, turning to Regan. “Prince Jasper has already issued a media statement, one claiming that his father is on the path to recovery. As the one in charge of the media, I intended to release this statement tonight.”
Jazz nodded again, offering Samantha a slight smile for coming to his defense. “My father’s medical staff have yet to release him back to his normal duties. They are both optimistic that he’ll be able to return by next week, however, barring he has no other medical complications.” Jazz hoped his own relief at that news didn’t filter through his voice. “Now, I am to meet with the eastern colonies tomorrow about their own recession issues -- is there anything in particular I should know?”
When his father’s Council merely shook their heads, Jazz let himself close his eyes for a moment. “Alright then. You’re all dismissed.”
Jazz watched as they all filed out, one by one. Mitchel, of course, remained in his seat, his expression strangely neutral. Jazz didn’t pay him any mind, instead focusing his attention on the paperwork in front of him. His activities with Savin earlier hadn’t exhausted him -- in fact, they had cleared his head, making it only a little easier for him to concentrate on the meeting. Now that the meeting was over, however, he relived every little touch of Savin’s hands on his body. The way Savin’s mouth wrapped around his length. The way Savin tasted in his mouth.
“Do you really expect to keep your relationship with Dr. Bates hidden from your father?” Mitchel asked, his voice grating Jazz’s ears.
Jazz looked up from his paperwork. “Why do you insist on talking to me about this, Mitchel?” he asked, frowning to himself. “I have no interest in discussing these things with you.”
“Does your mother know?” Mitchel asked, ignoring Jazz’s statement entirely.
“Alexandra is not my mother,” Jazz answered, feeling his irritation build at the back of his skull. “And no, Alexandra doesn’t know.”
“Do you think she would approve? The man’s clearly older than yourself, and he’s a doctor. Your father’s doctor. Clearly you can see how this might provide a slight conflict of interest for him?”
“You’re older than he is, Mitchel.”
“Smith did not exactly approve of you and I dating, either, because of our age difference, if I remember correctly,” Mitchel said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I would assume that Bates would be no different, in that regard. He has to be what, only a couple of years younger than me, at the most?”
“He’s thirty,” Jazz answered, frowning to himself as he picked up his pen. His brow bunched together in concentration as he made notes for his meeting tomorrow. “So he’s five years younger than you.”
Mitchel snorted. “Of course you would already know his age,” he muttered, looking away from Jazz. “Tell me, Prince Jasper, what is it you even see in that man? It’s quite clear that he doesn’t take much care of himself. As thin as he is...”
“Mitchel,” Jazz growled, snapping his head away from his paperwork. “It’s none of your damn business. Now please, either leave me alone, or if you’re going to sit there, be quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.”
Mitchel frowned and slowly rose from his seat. He then pushed the chair it, obviously not caring if it made too much noise as its legs scraped against the hardwood floor of the Council room. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Prince Jasper,” he murmured, tapping his fingers along the top of the chair. He pursed his lips together before striding towards the Council room doors, not another word escaping his mouth.
Jazz sighed, grateful for the silence as he put the pen to paper once again. Savin, after all, was waiting for him in his private quarters. Probably still nude, and if Savin had kept his word, likely touching himself until Jazz came back.
How Jazz was supposed to concentrate on making his notes with that sort of knowledge at hand, he didn’t know. But once he pushed the thought aside, he managed to keep his attention on his paperwork.
He and Savin were going to visit his father that afternoon, anyway. It would be best if he was prepared for it.
***
Savin smiled as Jazz walked back into his apartment, small briefcase in hand. A quiet look of disappointment swept its way across Jazz’s face. “You’re dressed,” he said, his voice small in the large room.
“Sorry,” Savin said, getting up from the couch and approaching Jazz. Seeing him dressed like this -- like an actual politician, the form-fitting suit accentuating every little curve of Jazz’s body -- made it easier for Savin to accept he was now dating the Prince. “I have to go meet up with your father really soon. I don’t think we really have the time to play around again.”
Jazz nodded, his blue eyes focusing on the floor for a moment. He then smiled, pulling Savin close to him. “Why don’t you ever wear a tie?” he asked, fingers trailing over Savin’s chest. “If you’re going to see my father, shouldn’t you be wearing one?”
“I normally wear scrubs under my lab coat,” Savin said, a sheepish grin breaking out on his face. He felt his face head up as an admission threatened to break free from his lips. “Also, I can’t tie a tie to save my life.”
“You’re a surgeon!” Jazz laughed, pulling away from Savin before they could share another kiss. “You know how to tie knots in surgical thread, don’t you? Tying a tie can’t be that much different --”
“It just is, okay?” Savin said, wishing his face didn’t feel so hot as he pouted and looked away from Jazz. “Trust me, I’ve tried countless times. I can never get it just right.”
“Well, I guess that means I will have to tie your ties for you,” Jazz said, placing a reassuring hand on Savin’s shoulder. “They’re easier to tie on someone else than they are yourself, anyway.”
Savin shook his head, willing his blush away. “I can tie them -- it just -- takes me a while, that’s all,” he muttered, still halfway pouting as he made his way to jazz’s door. “Anyway, we need to get going. Your father’s appointment is in like fifteen minutes. I totally don’t want to be late.”
Jazz nodded, picking up his keys from the small stand beside the door. “Why does he have an appointment today, anyway?” Jazz asked, frowning slightly in thought as he and Savin stepped outside of his apartment. “He’s healing up just fine now, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he is also still in a lot of pain -- according to him, anyway,” Savin said, pulling his lab coat over his shoulders and tugging it into place. He glanced down the hallway, noticing the lack of people from the hustle and bustle he had seen earlier. “My father and I need to investigate to see if there’s any underlying cause for that.”
Jazz’s forehead wrinkled as he regarded Savin oddly. “He’s still in pain?” he asked, biting his lip. “Is it so bad he can’t come back as Emperor, or...?”
“I don’t think it’s bad enough to permanently disable him, no,” Savin said. “Prescription pain killers seem to be doing the trick to manage it -- but Father and I are more concerned with making the pain go away permanently. Managing pain for the rest of one’s life? It’s a difficult road to walk down, and there are far more risks than there are benefits to allowing anyone remain in pain for the rest of their life.”
“I...see,” Jazz said with a sigh. He matched Savin’s stride, shoving his hands in his pockets. Savin found himself doing the same, despite how much he wanted to hold Jazz’s hand, right at that moment. “So you think his pain can be cured?”
“I think his pain is psychosomatic.”
Savin tensed, and Jazz let out a little quiet yelp in surprise. “Father, I didn’t realize you were coming this way,” Savin said, trying to keep his tone neutral as he turned on his heel. Hajime stood behind him, a stern expression on his face, his thick glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose. “What makes you think that the pain is psychosomatic?”
Jazz glanced between the two men, his eyes widening somewhat as Hajime regarded him with a harsh glare before turning his gaze to Savin. “I think that is a question I may prefer to answer in private, Savin,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Prince Jasper may be Emperor Callahan’s family, but we must still respect Emperor Callahan’s privacy.”
Savin clenched his jaw, but gave his father a slight nod of his head. “I understand, Father,” he said, turning on his heel as the three of them began to once again walk down the hall. Savin knew Casio’s patient room was only a little bit further. “Prince Jasper decided to join me today on his father’s check-up. He’s been overseas with the colonies and wanted to be caught up on his father’s condition.”
“There isn’t much he hasn’t already been made aware of, I’m sure,” Hajime said, walking on the opposite side of Jazz. Now, Savin had to resist the urge to pull his hands free from his pockets and take hold of Jazz’s own, like Jazz had done to him when they saw Mitchel, earlier that day. “He had surgery in order to remove infected tissue. Since then, his recovery has been textbook.”
Jazz nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Savin did explain that to me, yes,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. He sounded unsure of himself. “He had gone to me, in fact, to get permission to do the surgery, considering my father was in too much pain to comfortably make the decision, himself.”
Hajime raised an eyebrow at that, glancing between both Jazz and Savin for another moment. He then frowned and looked away. “I see,” he said, a note of finality to his voice. “Well then, I see no reason for Prince Jasper to be coming along to this particular check-up.”
“I haven’t seen my father in at least a week, Dr. Bates,” Jazz said, this time his voice much stronger as he gave Hajime a harsh look.
“Dr. Bates prefers that family aren’t present when discussing recovery with his patients. He says it clouds the patient’s judgment, making it difficult for them to come to their own conclusions,” Savin said by way of explanation. As they stopped in front of Casio’s room, he placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder and squeezed. “I disagree with him on this,” he continued, leveling his gaze with his father’s. “A patient’s family can be a hindrance, yes, but I don’t think all family are.”
Savin then removed his hand from Jazz’s shoulder, dropping his eyes to the door in front of them. “Please decide for yourself whether you want to be present, Prince Jasper,” he said, pushing Casio’s door open. “This check-up is mostly a routine one, and my father and I should only be a few minutes, at the most.”
Jazz nodded and squared his shoulders. “I’ll go ahead and come in now, then,” he said, his voice a little stronger than it had been before. He didn’t quite meet Hajime’s eyes as he walked past him, slipping into Casio’s room before Hajime could stop him.
Savin glanced back at Hajime, noticing the look of dawning understanding on his face, and gulped as Hajime placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk once we’re done here,” Hajime muttered in Savin’s ear.
It was all Savin could do to nod, the weight of his father’s hand slipping off his shoulder seconds later. He suddenly hoped that this check-up would be anything but routine.
Next Chapter
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
Jazz cleared his throat, taking his time as he stood in front of his father’s Council. Alexandra and Mitchel both stared back at him expectantly, Regan and Samantha both focusing their attention elsewhere. “I know it’s been a few days since I last sat in a meeting with you all,” he began, offering them all a slight smile. “First thing’s first -- the Western colonies have agreed to begin the development of new trade routes to the other colonies.”
Alexandra nodded, and now the rest of them had their attention on him, as well. Mitchel frowned, twirling a pen between his fingers. “Have we answered the question as to how we’re going to fund such an endeavor?” he asked, pursing his lips together.
“I’ve done some rearranging with the Empire’s funds,” Jazz answered, straightening his back. He ran his hands along the front of his suit, smoothing it down. He desperately wanted to reach up and fix his hair -- he had a feeling Savin had messed it up far worse than the other man had been willing to admit. His backside was sore, as well, causing him to be unwilling to sit. “The budget had included various defense expenses that are, quite frankly, no longer needed now that the war with United is over.”
“We still have to be able to protect our territory, Prince Jasper,” Regan murmured, frowning himself as he flipped through his own set of paperwork. “How do we expect to prepare ourselves for another attack from our neighboring Empire if we don’t spend any money on defense?”
“He said that he only reassigned the funds no longer needed to the Western Colonies, Novak,” Samantha muttered, tapping her pen on top of the table. “I would assume that Prince Jasper is intelligent enough to keep the basic defense spending still in place so that we can protect the borders of the Empire.”
“That would be correct,” Jazz said, clearing his throat again. He settled into his seat, careful of how he sat. Next time, he’d have to insist Savin use more lube than he had. “I only pulled enough from the defense budget to cover the trade routes. Considering the revenue I foresee us bringing in, we will make that money back and then some within a couple of years in taxes.”
“I suppose...” Mitchel sighed. He looked away from Jazz, placing his pen down on top of the table. “What about the Resistance, Prince Jasper? Surely you can’t expect to let them get away with nearly killing your father, can you?”
“We can’t prove that the Resistance was involved in my father’s assassination attempt, Councilor Foraker,” Jazz said, folding his hands on top of the table just like his father would have done. “Now, if the Resistance wants to step forward and take full responsibility for my father’s near death, I suppose spending the time and energy on a fruitless manhunt might be worth it, but... Currently, the Palace Guard is investigating the attack. The gunman hasn’t been found.”
“We don’t need proof to know the Resistance had a hand in it,” Mitchel argued, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. “If all we do is sit and wait to see what sort of evidence we can come up with, then there will not be a chance to ensure it never happens again.”
“Even if it was the Resistance, Foraker, there’s no way of ensuring that Emperor Callahan won’t get shot again,” Alexandra pointed out, pursing her own lips together. She glanced back at Jazz, who gave her a slight nod of his head so that she could continue. “Capturing a single gunman, and perhaps the men who hired him, is about the best we can hope for, in the long run. If the Resistance is as vast as they claim to be, we will likely never find them all, to begin with.”
“Agreed,” Jazz said, settling into his seat. “Do any of you have any other concerns you would like to address with me, at this particular point in time?”
“Yes,” Regan said, leaning forward and resting his own hands on the table. “How much longer until your father can return to his Empire? The people are growing restless with the lack of media coverage on his case.”
“The people will get their news tonight,” Samantha said, turning to Regan. “Prince Jasper has already issued a media statement, one claiming that his father is on the path to recovery. As the one in charge of the media, I intended to release this statement tonight.”
Jazz nodded again, offering Samantha a slight smile for coming to his defense. “My father’s medical staff have yet to release him back to his normal duties. They are both optimistic that he’ll be able to return by next week, however, barring he has no other medical complications.” Jazz hoped his own relief at that news didn’t filter through his voice. “Now, I am to meet with the eastern colonies tomorrow about their own recession issues -- is there anything in particular I should know?”
When his father’s Council merely shook their heads, Jazz let himself close his eyes for a moment. “Alright then. You’re all dismissed.”
Jazz watched as they all filed out, one by one. Mitchel, of course, remained in his seat, his expression strangely neutral. Jazz didn’t pay him any mind, instead focusing his attention on the paperwork in front of him. His activities with Savin earlier hadn’t exhausted him -- in fact, they had cleared his head, making it only a little easier for him to concentrate on the meeting. Now that the meeting was over, however, he relived every little touch of Savin’s hands on his body. The way Savin’s mouth wrapped around his length. The way Savin tasted in his mouth.
“Do you really expect to keep your relationship with Dr. Bates hidden from your father?” Mitchel asked, his voice grating Jazz’s ears.
Jazz looked up from his paperwork. “Why do you insist on talking to me about this, Mitchel?” he asked, frowning to himself. “I have no interest in discussing these things with you.”
“Does your mother know?” Mitchel asked, ignoring Jazz’s statement entirely.
“Alexandra is not my mother,” Jazz answered, feeling his irritation build at the back of his skull. “And no, Alexandra doesn’t know.”
“Do you think she would approve? The man’s clearly older than yourself, and he’s a doctor. Your father’s doctor. Clearly you can see how this might provide a slight conflict of interest for him?”
“You’re older than he is, Mitchel.”
“Smith did not exactly approve of you and I dating, either, because of our age difference, if I remember correctly,” Mitchel said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I would assume that Bates would be no different, in that regard. He has to be what, only a couple of years younger than me, at the most?”
“He’s thirty,” Jazz answered, frowning to himself as he picked up his pen. His brow bunched together in concentration as he made notes for his meeting tomorrow. “So he’s five years younger than you.”
Mitchel snorted. “Of course you would already know his age,” he muttered, looking away from Jazz. “Tell me, Prince Jasper, what is it you even see in that man? It’s quite clear that he doesn’t take much care of himself. As thin as he is...”
“Mitchel,” Jazz growled, snapping his head away from his paperwork. “It’s none of your damn business. Now please, either leave me alone, or if you’re going to sit there, be quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.”
Mitchel frowned and slowly rose from his seat. He then pushed the chair it, obviously not caring if it made too much noise as its legs scraped against the hardwood floor of the Council room. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Prince Jasper,” he murmured, tapping his fingers along the top of the chair. He pursed his lips together before striding towards the Council room doors, not another word escaping his mouth.
Jazz sighed, grateful for the silence as he put the pen to paper once again. Savin, after all, was waiting for him in his private quarters. Probably still nude, and if Savin had kept his word, likely touching himself until Jazz came back.
How Jazz was supposed to concentrate on making his notes with that sort of knowledge at hand, he didn’t know. But once he pushed the thought aside, he managed to keep his attention on his paperwork.
He and Savin were going to visit his father that afternoon, anyway. It would be best if he was prepared for it.
***
Savin smiled as Jazz walked back into his apartment, small briefcase in hand. A quiet look of disappointment swept its way across Jazz’s face. “You’re dressed,” he said, his voice small in the large room.
“Sorry,” Savin said, getting up from the couch and approaching Jazz. Seeing him dressed like this -- like an actual politician, the form-fitting suit accentuating every little curve of Jazz’s body -- made it easier for Savin to accept he was now dating the Prince. “I have to go meet up with your father really soon. I don’t think we really have the time to play around again.”
Jazz nodded, his blue eyes focusing on the floor for a moment. He then smiled, pulling Savin close to him. “Why don’t you ever wear a tie?” he asked, fingers trailing over Savin’s chest. “If you’re going to see my father, shouldn’t you be wearing one?”
“I normally wear scrubs under my lab coat,” Savin said, a sheepish grin breaking out on his face. He felt his face head up as an admission threatened to break free from his lips. “Also, I can’t tie a tie to save my life.”
“You’re a surgeon!” Jazz laughed, pulling away from Savin before they could share another kiss. “You know how to tie knots in surgical thread, don’t you? Tying a tie can’t be that much different --”
“It just is, okay?” Savin said, wishing his face didn’t feel so hot as he pouted and looked away from Jazz. “Trust me, I’ve tried countless times. I can never get it just right.”
“Well, I guess that means I will have to tie your ties for you,” Jazz said, placing a reassuring hand on Savin’s shoulder. “They’re easier to tie on someone else than they are yourself, anyway.”
Savin shook his head, willing his blush away. “I can tie them -- it just -- takes me a while, that’s all,” he muttered, still halfway pouting as he made his way to jazz’s door. “Anyway, we need to get going. Your father’s appointment is in like fifteen minutes. I totally don’t want to be late.”
Jazz nodded, picking up his keys from the small stand beside the door. “Why does he have an appointment today, anyway?” Jazz asked, frowning slightly in thought as he and Savin stepped outside of his apartment. “He’s healing up just fine now, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but he is also still in a lot of pain -- according to him, anyway,” Savin said, pulling his lab coat over his shoulders and tugging it into place. He glanced down the hallway, noticing the lack of people from the hustle and bustle he had seen earlier. “My father and I need to investigate to see if there’s any underlying cause for that.”
Jazz’s forehead wrinkled as he regarded Savin oddly. “He’s still in pain?” he asked, biting his lip. “Is it so bad he can’t come back as Emperor, or...?”
“I don’t think it’s bad enough to permanently disable him, no,” Savin said. “Prescription pain killers seem to be doing the trick to manage it -- but Father and I are more concerned with making the pain go away permanently. Managing pain for the rest of one’s life? It’s a difficult road to walk down, and there are far more risks than there are benefits to allowing anyone remain in pain for the rest of their life.”
“I...see,” Jazz said with a sigh. He matched Savin’s stride, shoving his hands in his pockets. Savin found himself doing the same, despite how much he wanted to hold Jazz’s hand, right at that moment. “So you think his pain can be cured?”
“I think his pain is psychosomatic.”
Savin tensed, and Jazz let out a little quiet yelp in surprise. “Father, I didn’t realize you were coming this way,” Savin said, trying to keep his tone neutral as he turned on his heel. Hajime stood behind him, a stern expression on his face, his thick glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose. “What makes you think that the pain is psychosomatic?”
Jazz glanced between the two men, his eyes widening somewhat as Hajime regarded him with a harsh glare before turning his gaze to Savin. “I think that is a question I may prefer to answer in private, Savin,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Prince Jasper may be Emperor Callahan’s family, but we must still respect Emperor Callahan’s privacy.”
Savin clenched his jaw, but gave his father a slight nod of his head. “I understand, Father,” he said, turning on his heel as the three of them began to once again walk down the hall. Savin knew Casio’s patient room was only a little bit further. “Prince Jasper decided to join me today on his father’s check-up. He’s been overseas with the colonies and wanted to be caught up on his father’s condition.”
“There isn’t much he hasn’t already been made aware of, I’m sure,” Hajime said, walking on the opposite side of Jazz. Now, Savin had to resist the urge to pull his hands free from his pockets and take hold of Jazz’s own, like Jazz had done to him when they saw Mitchel, earlier that day. “He had surgery in order to remove infected tissue. Since then, his recovery has been textbook.”
Jazz nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Savin did explain that to me, yes,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. He sounded unsure of himself. “He had gone to me, in fact, to get permission to do the surgery, considering my father was in too much pain to comfortably make the decision, himself.”
Hajime raised an eyebrow at that, glancing between both Jazz and Savin for another moment. He then frowned and looked away. “I see,” he said, a note of finality to his voice. “Well then, I see no reason for Prince Jasper to be coming along to this particular check-up.”
“I haven’t seen my father in at least a week, Dr. Bates,” Jazz said, this time his voice much stronger as he gave Hajime a harsh look.
“Dr. Bates prefers that family aren’t present when discussing recovery with his patients. He says it clouds the patient’s judgment, making it difficult for them to come to their own conclusions,” Savin said by way of explanation. As they stopped in front of Casio’s room, he placed a hand on Jazz’s shoulder and squeezed. “I disagree with him on this,” he continued, leveling his gaze with his father’s. “A patient’s family can be a hindrance, yes, but I don’t think all family are.”
Savin then removed his hand from Jazz’s shoulder, dropping his eyes to the door in front of them. “Please decide for yourself whether you want to be present, Prince Jasper,” he said, pushing Casio’s door open. “This check-up is mostly a routine one, and my father and I should only be a few minutes, at the most.”
Jazz nodded and squared his shoulders. “I’ll go ahead and come in now, then,” he said, his voice a little stronger than it had been before. He didn’t quite meet Hajime’s eyes as he walked past him, slipping into Casio’s room before Hajime could stop him.
Savin glanced back at Hajime, noticing the look of dawning understanding on his face, and gulped as Hajime placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk once we’re done here,” Hajime muttered in Savin’s ear.
It was all Savin could do to nod, the weight of his father’s hand slipping off his shoulder seconds later. He suddenly hoped that this check-up would be anything but routine.
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