[He hears Lee coming down the stairs – it’s easy to distinguish her footsteps from Alfred’s, all things considered – and pushes to stand after another break from minding the soup. In a few clicks of his crutch, he appears in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. His heart pounds heavily in his throat.]
...how bad is it? [There’s an anxious knit to his brow, a desperation to know everything there is to know. But his tone is not unhopeful.]
no subject
...how bad is it? [There’s an anxious knit to his brow, a desperation to know everything there is to know. But his tone is not unhopeful.]