[ He isn't expecting it. More than the surprise of having a wish fulfilled — stress and annoyance forming a band around his chest, his thoughts straying to a nonexistent cigar — it's the surprise of her warmed mood. A little sweetness, despite it all. He holds the carton for a long moment, thumbing over the drawing of the monkey as though it might substitute for her presence, then tucks it into his jacket pocket, over his heart.
He'll have to find something for her, later. (Later being the cruel variable. There's a chance she doesn't survive the weekend, a chance he falls prey to the wolves' hunt. Time is running out.) ]
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He'll have to find something for her, later. (Later being the cruel variable. There's a chance she doesn't survive the weekend, a chance he falls prey to the wolves' hunt. Time is running out.) ]