{ @apersistentinspector // cont’d }
Zenigata stirred from his uneasy sleep in the chair beside the bed, eyes shooting to the thief. A look of pure relief flickered over his face, quickly hidden behind a professional mask. "Good. You woke up. I told you I wouldn't let you get away so easily."
Lupin, being the man he is, tried to sit up, only to be met with excruciating pain in his chest. Collapsing back to his pillow, he heaved a shaky sigh, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. So, that was what happened, huh? He hardly remembered it. Couldn’t recall the moment he lost consciousness. His memories were hazy.
His head turned weakly to the side, tired eyes staring at Pops, as if trying to read the old man’s expressions. In his weakened state, it proved more and more difficult to do the norm, so when his searching yielded no results, Lupin conceded defeat and pouted.
“How long, Pops...?”
