The thick, leaden feeling slowly starts to wear away, to the point that she can at least shift her leg a little under his and move her hand to weakly hold his wrist.

She whimpers at the idea of him leaving her, and she almost cries because she feels terrible, hungover on morphling and still sore from violently vomiting, and she just wants him to stay, so they can remain like this.

"I don't want you to go."