Slow, shallow breaths filled the room. Three bodies, slumped in their chairs. The IV tubes hissed softly, liquid traveling drop by drop toward their wrists.
The door opened. The man entered on bare feet; no sound but the soft pad of skin on concrete.
He checked Leo first. Bent over the boy's IV line, eyes tracking the drip chamber, the tubing, the port site. Everything in order. He straightened.
He moved to her chair. Stopped beside it. For a moment he just looked at her face; the curve of her jaw, the stillness of her closed lids. His fingers reached for the IV line.
They stopped.
The connection was loose. The tubing had been pulled free of the port; cleanly, carefully. A single bubble of air clung to the tip of the needle, trembling.
His eyes moved to her face. Her breathing was even. Her lashes didn't flutter.
He stared at her for a long moment. The bubble trembled in the needle's tip.
He let go of the line. Turned. Walked to the next chair.