Jacob was clad only in his underwear, and his skin was clammy. He felt too hot and too cold both at once, and when the air from the open window hit him, he let out a keening groan.
Water though. Water. When was the last time he had had a drink which wasn't alcoholic? The second it was in front of him, Jacob's lips clamped around the straw and he tried to get as much of it into his mouth as he could. His throat protested, and he pulled away, coughing and spluttering down his front, his head falling back with a groan. "Fuck," he hissed. "Haven't eaten. Wil. Are you really here?"