to roger
It had been about a week since Larit had taken Roger in. He'd had to keep an eye on the boy, and in between the fevers and the fits, there were those moments of lucidity where they had actual conversations. Thanks to Arch's help, Larit had been able to help Roger through his first week and now things would get easier. Of course that first shift was still to come, and that was going to be very hard on the boy's body. Larit was going to do his best to help Roger through it, though. Deep down he knew that he should have turned the boy over to his superiors, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Earlier that afternoon Roger'd had one of his pain fits. It had been bad, probably the worst so far, but Larit had calmed him down and after giving him a potion he had fallen asleep. Larit went to work with cooking them both dinner because he knew Roger would be awake soon. He'd made steak, Roger's rare, along with mashed potatos, green beans, and corn bread. He carried a tray up to his bedroom - Roger still taking residence up in his bed - and set it down on the table.
"Roger," he said gently as he reached out to touch his shoulder.
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