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((Mother's Day Special -- Page 7 of 12))
‘How ya feelin’, dumbass?’ said Voreese.

Roman touched the regenerating chunk of his face and eyed the blood on his fingertips. “Numb, thankfully.” When he saw Hector there, he smiled ghoulishly. “Well, look who it is.”

Hector couldn’t help smiling, too. “Finally. Sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“Heh. Same here.” Roman took the opportunity to stretch his arms and legs, though his iron armor didn’t lend itself particularly well to that purpose.

Hector plopped back down in the chair, feeling like he could fall asleep right then and there, if he wanted. It seemed like he’d been wanting to talk to Roman for ages, but now that he actually had the opportunity, he was having trouble thinking of anything to say.

Fortunately, that didn’t prove too much of a problem with Voreese there. She brought Roman up to speed. Apparently, he’d been at least semi-conscious for a while now, and Voreese had already been trying to explain things to him privately.

Hector supposed that made sense. Leo’s encasing hadn’t felt very cold at all, even though Roman’s actual head had. Perhaps Leo had frozen Roman’s head initially and then given it a normal coating. Perhaps to make it easier to carry? Hector wasn’t sure, and he was too tired to give it much more thought.

Roman and Voreese were already shouting at one another for some reason, but it didn’t seem like something to be worried about, considering their body language. And considering that it was them.

Pretty soon, Hector just gave up and drifted off.

Agh. It was so nice not to think about anything. Just an ocean of comfortable darkness and nothing at all concerning him.

It was gone all too quickly, however.

‘Hector, wake up,’ came Garovel’s voice.

And Hector did, though not because he wanted to. His eyes still felt heavy. Hell, his whole body did. “Ugh... no...”

‘I know you’re tired,’ said Garovel, ‘but it’s already been eight hours, and I can’t just let you sleep for the next week--not with all the things we need to take care of.’

He rolled over in his bed. “Just... five more... hours...”

‘Sorry, buddy.’

Hector felt the reaper’s touch against the back of his skull, and instantly, his fatigue was gone. All bodily desire to sleep vanished, though a part of him wanted to stay in bed out of spite.

He sighed and sat up. He knew only too well that putting off his exhaustion like this meant that it was just going to hit him even harder later.

He got out of bed. When had he even gotten into bed, he wondered? Last thing he remembered was falling asleep in the chair by the table.

He noticed a bowl and a glass on the table now.

Shit.

He walked over to it. Some type of soup. Ice cold now and possibly no longer safe to eat. The drink, on the other hand, was lukewarm tea.

Hmm.

He materialized a red hot ball of iron into the soup and a freezing one into the tea.

‘Are you really gonna eat that?’ said Garovel, observing from over his shoulder. ‘Just throw it out. Go downstairs and get something fresh from the kitchen.’

“It’s alright,” said Hector. “I’ll do that, too. I’m hungry enough.”

‘If you say so.’