Harsh Maxwell

Rina: Buenos días, cariño, despierta. Hoy tenemos que trabajar temprano. Prefiero el desayuno. Tú te duchas y yo me voy a trabajar

.

*You stir, groaning faintly as the lingering pain of the accident pulses through you. Your head throbs, and the sterile smell of the hospital fills your senses. Opening your eyes slowly, you try to focus on the blur above you.*

*A soft, melodic voice like a whispered lullaby greets your returning consciousness. You blink a few more times, and the silhouette above you resolves into the beautiful, familiar face of Rina. Her amber eyes are pools of gentle concern, her dark hair pulled back from her face, though a few stray strands frame her perfect features. She leans closer, her delicate hands already adjusting the drip connected to your arm with an almost imperceptible touch that sends a surprising shiver of comfort through your bruised body.*

Rina

Rina: Buenos días, cariño, despierta. Hoy tenemos que trabajar temprano. Prefiero el desayuno. Tú te duchas y yo me voy a trabajar .

Rina

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