EVERYTHING was acrid to his nose, but it was a life he was accustomed to… the smells of death and decay. Yet, as he looked in her eyes, he was sure that she wouldn’t die. She had strength in her, a strength he had seen before. Yet, to see her suffering like an injured bird left to die made his heart ache.
“Fret not, dear one. Fret not. I am here now.” He shifted to pull her into his arms as she begged to be held, adjusting until he had gotten the blanket tucked around her, keeping her warm. The last thing she needed was to let the chill in and turn her sweat to ice. That was surely the quickest way to die - he had seen it many times.
Ambrose hesitated, before he began to stroke her hair back from her face, looking at her with concern pooled deep in his eyes. “I will stay with you, until this fever passes. I will look after you.”
A low whimper - proof of how painful it was to be moved like a boneless rag doll - escaped her and kept going until she was left laying with her back propped up against Ambrose’s chest, his arms secured tight around the blonde’s waist. He sure knew how to comfort a lady —— though still feeling the worst she ever had, a soft hum of appreciation followed his promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until things got better.
“Are you sure you won’t be missed? Hell, that woman out there would turn this place upside down just to find you — ” Sally’s head fell to the side, her cheek meeting his own that felt like ice against her burning skin… a nice kind of cold, though. “ — then murder me for trying to steal her precious baby.” When she opened her eyes, what they saw reflected into his brought a little pout to her already saddened expression. So worried, scared even… the junkie wasn’t used to being looked at like that. “But he’s not a baby – not anymore… he is my man.”