"Small bites," Famine suggested. "Let your brain register what you've eaten. We don't want you getting sick." She plucked a club sandwich for herself off the tray, poured a glass of Coke, and settled back down on the bed.
"I'll always come find you, Patrick," she told him. "I know blackouts aren't something you relish, understatement of the year. I'm just glad you're still in one piece."