Comments: This chapter is somewhat short. The next few will be a little longer, and I promise that as soon as Roy gets out of the hospital, the angst will die down a little. (And I think room 210 was my geography room...Oh well.)
The remainder of the journey to the hospital was silent for the most part. Riza barely recalled rolling up her sleeve and watching the crimson blood flow though the tube. Someone, probably a nurse, removed the bullet from her right arm, commenting on how close it had come to shattering the bone.
The waiting room was quiet. She had insisted on sitting out there rather than accept the offer of a bed.
Every heartbeat, every throb of her arm counted the minutes that Roy was in the operating room. Her nerves felt dull from the painkillers. Dull, but still painfully aware.
There was a mug of tea in her hands. Riza took a sip, but even the boiling liquid did nothing to warm her. A salty droplet fell into the amber tea.
It was cold.
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"…Lieutenant?"
She didn't appear to have heard him. The doctor tried again.
"Lieutenant. He's in room 210 if you would like to see him."
She looked up; her eyes were curiously red-rimmed but dry.
"You can go see him."
The lieutenant made no response. The doctor started his trek down the hallway.
"…Thank you." She spoke very quietly.
The doctor waved away her thanks casually and continued to walk away. It was his job, anyways. He'd seen enough of these situations; it was safe to assume that she was running towards his room.
Prompts: Pain & wounds, Reaching voice & Unreachable with a voice