Dan filled the glass and lifted a straw as well, and then held it out for Ritchie to drink from. "Little sips only. Imagine you're hungover and you don't want to trigger anything, yeah?" he advised.
The number of deathflies that had been crawling over Ritchie's face had been steadily getting less and less as the days had gone on. Dan was far more practiced at ignoring them at his age than he was when he'd been 17, so he hadn't ever reacted to them, but there had been one on the other man's cheek when Dan had left to fill the jug. It was very hard to keep from smiling, though, as he realized that the last fly had vanished completely.
He took the glass back when Ritchie seemed to be finished for the time being, and sat back in his chair. "You know, this place needs a bell or something. For people to ring when they're leaving and they're completely healthy." The part where the people had had terminal illnesses when they'd showed up in medbay was glossed over.