"How are you feeling?"
"Not great." Frederick stared at the wall opposite his bed.
"Would you like anything?"
He looked away. Inga decided not to press for a reply, and picked up the book she had been reading during this whole ordeal. She couldn't remember most of what she'd read, and she was fairly certain that her eyes had gone over certain passages multiple times, but she could never remember for sure.
"What are you reading?" he asked her.
She looked up, and her childhood instincts suddenly took over. "You can read the cover yourself."
He smirked. "You don't know."