Hera looked at him carefully, the eye of the doctor managing for a moment at least to push aside the eye of a sister or a wife, of which she was both. He was a mess. More than a mess. He was worse than most of the humans she’d seen and treated in her life. He was a waste of his former self, and it broke her heart to see him like that. Which only reminded her that she had a heart, and she needed to harden it.
Carefully, she set a bag down on the end of the bed that contained a pair of new sweatpants and a package of crew neck undershirts. Also a comb and several razors. Now that he was clean, she wanted the rats nest on his head gone. Fleas and lice were not acceptable in the modern age.
“Are you steady enough to shave? Or should I do it for you?” she asked softly, taking a bottle of gatorade out of the bag and handing it to him. Disgusting stuff, gatorade. Unless you really needed it. He really needed it. She could tell he was dehydrated from here, but she didn’t think he’d manage to hold down solid food in this state.