[ Hospitals are, strangely, easy for Ryoji to feel comfortable in. Despite the implications have having to be in a hospital, the nurses he's spoken to are patient, doctors assuring, and many patients brighten at having a visitor during their long, mundane stay. Today, however, he's more subdued, sitting in the waiting room with book open on his lap, its pages turned maybe once every half an hour, and even then it's three or four pages at a time as if time jerking forward whenever he snaps out of a reverie.
Ryoji doesn't seem to be the only one who's distracted, or needs distracting, though. He'd been in the waiting room long enough to watch Gladio go through all the motions, from pacing to leaning to sitting and back to pacing, and at long last Ryoji marks his page with a frayed ribbon and closes the book. He stands, leaves the room, and is gone for ten minutes. When he returns, it's with two cups, steam escaping through the lids, one of which he holds out to Gladio. ]
It's chamomile.
[ Please take it and maybe sit down; the pacing makes him anxious. ]
hospital
Ryoji doesn't seem to be the only one who's distracted, or needs distracting, though. He'd been in the waiting room long enough to watch Gladio go through all the motions, from pacing to leaning to sitting and back to pacing, and at long last Ryoji marks his page with a frayed ribbon and closes the book. He stands, leaves the room, and is gone for ten minutes. When he returns, it's with two cups, steam escaping through the lids, one of which he holds out to Gladio. ]
It's chamomile.
[ Please take it and maybe sit down; the pacing makes him anxious. ]