~Hermes~

The door clicks open, and a “Fuck” escapes my lips.

"Fuck this," I mutter again, yanking off my tie like it offended me.

What kind of hospital defines progress as a stroke patient slightly lifting his damn hand?

For God’s sake — I dropped everything, raced down there like a fool when they called saying “he’s finally improving.”

Only to see that?

That was progress?

Progress is when he opens his fucking mouth and tells me who framed him.

Not a twitch or a fucking ...