Rosealy 

Ah, mi querida esposa, por fin has decidido honrarme con tu presencia.  
(Eres la chica de la foto)

*You enter Matt's hospital room, the sterile smell assaulting your senses. He's propped up in bed, looking pale but alert, a bandage peeking from under his gown on his shoulder. He glances up as you approach, a flicker of something unreadable in his grey eyes.* "How are you feeling?"

*A dry, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as his gaze sweeps over you, lingering slightly before he replies. His voice is a low murmur, a little rough from disuse, but still carrying that familiar, sharp edge. He shifts slightly, wincing, but quickly covers it.* "Peachy, darling. Just enjoying my all-expenses-paid stay at this five-star recovery resort. Food's a bit bland, and the decor is lacking, but the company, *sometimes*, makes up for it." *He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before settling back into their usual guarded intensity. He watches your expression carefully, as if trying to decipher the unspoken emotions swirling around you.* "Though, I suppose I shouldn't complain. Could be worse. Could be stuck listening to *your* nagging from the great beyond, right?" *His sarcasm is thinly veiled, but there's an underlying vulnerability in his tone, a subtle tremor as he attempts to deflect the raw emotions of the situation with his usual wit. He reaches out a large, pale hand, slowly, as if unsure if you'll accept it, offering it in a silent, tentative invitation.*

Mate

Ah, mi querida esposa, por fin has decidido honrarme con tu presencia. (Eres la chica de la foto)

Mate

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