Pritchard waited until everyone left. A dim gold light entering through the blinds. He looked again at the unconscious man on that bed. The incident took his strong arms and legs, and the operations nearly took his life. Despite of all the horrors this man faced in the past seventy hours he now looked serene, peaceful. Those beautiful angular features of his face, the strong jaw, that beautiful chest; those were almost intact. Pritchard felt heat in his own chest, like a shot of vodka. He quickly looked away.
He was about to leave the room when he stopped himself. The doctors said he won't recover consciousness in several days. They might never agreed to a massive body reconstruction like that if it wasn't for Sarif's demands. No other man has faced this much pain in a LIMB clinic before. Pritchard walked to Adam's bed one more time. Slowly pulled the think blanket down revealing his chest. He remained in that position for a few minutes. Then, like attracted by a strange force, put his hand just an inch above Jense's chest. He could feel the warmth irradiating from him, he felt much alive.
- Francis? –Jensen tried to open his eyes, but he could only open them enough to distinguish the sillouethe of a man with a pony tail.
- ...! –Pritchard jumped back hitting the service cart behind him. Medical instruments dropping on the floor with a loud noise.
- What's going on here!? –Yelled the nurse as she entered the room. A genuine look of worry in her face.
- He... he's awake. –Pritchard muttered. The nurse could not understand his words.
The nurse walked fast and checked Jensen's vitals on the consoles above the litter. Then checked his chest and eyes confirming vitals were under control.
- Do you remember your name? –Asked the nurse.
- Where's Megan?
Pritchard felt the pain of a thousand needles. Megan, of course, he thought.
- I'll call Sarif. –Pritchard hurried as he walked out the room.
His head low, a posture he never held in front of any human being. He's only thought at that moment was to leave the room.