"The tea here is probably not like home." The sentiment was half of what he really wanted to say, that it could not replace the smell of the desert herbs and recipes used in his mother's tea, that he had always preferred cold drinks anyway, that he had not often been asked to tea with anyone and did not see it as a relaxing activity. But those things all floated by his sick brain and he struggled to cling onto them, so he only mumbled the one short sentence.
Abasi had almost forgotten his question when he got the answer, but he still felt a cold shattering fear fall through his stomach. "W-well, how long do I have, for this cure? Why are you not preparing it now?!" Suddenly he was yelling again, roughly pulling himself away from Loren and defensively holding up his arms. "Did you give this to me? Where--how did I get sick?! I did not--" Confused, angry again, he closed his hands into fists and this time seemed as if he might actually try to hit his benefactor if further pushed.
ABASI
it's sad to know that we are not alone
it's sad to know there's no honest way out
