section7mfu | The Anxiety of Waiting - A Little Drabble Do Ya! (Reply)

This is a belated post from last week's drabble switch with colonial_teapot.

Illya lay catatonic, but the doctors said his recovery was assured. As the toxin worked its way out of his system his senses would return to him in a fixed order, beginning with the sense of touch.

The timing, however, was not fixed. Napoleon couldn't know how long he would have to wait. He waited anyway, his eyes on the clock, his hand on Illya's, squeezing it gently two times per minute.

At three fifty-two a.m., Illya returned the pressure.

Hearing would come next. Two times per minute for almost the next hour, Napoleon said something. He wasn't sure what.