[ Another bout of dreams and waking, cycles of long naps and short moments of wakefulness between. After murmuring conversation with Steinbeck, he'd given up on the prospect of having enough energy to eat, let alone make himself something more substantial than water.
Yet it's not the smell of food that has him stir with a soft groan, but fingertips that are almost like ice to his overheated skin, head turning unconsciously in an effort to recapture the feeling of cold relief.
Slowly, with more strain than he'd like to admit, he opens his good eye, staring blearily into the space in front of him. Details of the day swirl hazily in his head, normally pristine memory struggling to piece together a chain of cause and effect.
He's awake because there's food and a light touch. Before that--there was just sleep, and then talks with the uncle, and then..
The strain of trying to make his tired mind work proves too much effort, so he gives up, barely resisting the siren song of returning to sleep. Lavi blinks methodically, trying to keep his eye open despite the impossible weight on his lashes. ]
Mm.. soba smells weird. Think you burned it.
[ Disease-riddled or not, he's positive he's never seen Yu cook anything outside of soba with accessories. Whatever the food is--he hasn't mustered the will to look yet--doesn't register as either of those categories.
Maybe the uncle, then. That or Lavi is well and truly losing his mind, because there's no way Yu would cook something not-soba without losing a bet or having a warrant involved, right? ]
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Yet it's not the smell of food that has him stir with a soft groan, but fingertips that are almost like ice to his overheated skin, head turning unconsciously in an effort to recapture the feeling of cold relief.
Slowly, with more strain than he'd like to admit, he opens his good eye, staring blearily into the space in front of him. Details of the day swirl hazily in his head, normally pristine memory struggling to piece together a chain of cause and effect.
He's awake because there's food and a light touch. Before that--there was just sleep, and then talks with the uncle, and then..
The strain of trying to make his tired mind work proves too much effort, so he gives up, barely resisting the siren song of returning to sleep. Lavi blinks methodically, trying to keep his eye open despite the impossible weight on his lashes. ]
Mm.. soba smells weird. Think you burned it.
[ Disease-riddled or not, he's positive he's never seen Yu cook anything outside of soba with accessories. Whatever the food is--he hasn't mustered the will to look yet--doesn't register as either of those categories.
Maybe the uncle, then. That or Lavi is well and truly losing his mind, because there's no way Yu would cook something not-soba without losing a bet or having a warrant involved, right? ]