(no subject)

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford's over by the fire today, not sprawled out on the sofa like usual, but in a chair taking up as little space as possible. Ostensibly, he's watching the rhythm of the bar over a large mug of chicken soup. In reality, he's simply trying to will away the early feelings of sickness. But it's too late. He knows that. It's already in his joints, making everything stiff and painful.

This is all he needs.

There's a dog on the floor in front of his chair, but he's ignoring it. As long as it stays quiet, it can do whatever it wants.