Elder Bellini took his time before he began to speak, gesturing for a glass of water, his thin fingers lifting only slightly as though even the effort of asking cost him something. The room was quiet, heavy with the kind of silence that only existed around people who were waiting for something irreversible to happen. The faint beeping of medical equipment echoed softly, marking time with cruel consistency.
Namira instantly scrambled to get one for him, nearly knocking into the side table as she hurried forward. Her movements were rushed, desperate to please, and she didn't bother masking it as she poured the water with shaking hands and offered it to him.
Only for the old man to blatantly roll his eyes.
He didn't even acknowledge her effort, instead taking the one Dante offered with a deep scowl on his face. His fingers wrapped firmly around the glass as he drank, slow and deliberate, before handing the now-empty cup back to Dante—who didn't even look bothered by the dismissal.
