As his hand moved, it was held down by a soft little hand.
"You're getting a fluid transfusion, don't move around!"
The soft rebuke was full of displeasure.
Thomas Shannon's gaze fell on Sophie Sullivan's face, her small face tense. It seemed she was angry. He paused and said, "I'm thirsty."
Sophie remained seated, still pressing his hand.
Thomas Shannon glared at her, cleared his throat, and repeated, "I'm thirsty."
"Bear with it."
Thomas Shannon: "..."
After a while, Thomas Shannon pried her hand away, intending to pull out the needle.
"I'll get it for you."
Sophie said begrudgingly and got up to pour him a cup of water, bringing it to him.
Thomas Shannon leaned against the head of the bed, lazily raising his eyelids, "Feed me."
"Thomas Shannon, don't push your luck."
Pouring him water to drink was already generous enough, and he still wanted to be fed?
Didn't he remember who yelled at her last night, and now he still has the face to ask her to feed him?
