"...Have you forgotten about your old stomach illness? Do you have to wait until it flares up again before you pay attention?"
"Don't worry, it's fine, you go to sleep..." Walter Schmidt's long fingers smoothed the woman's furrowed brow, then suddenly he picked her up and placed her back on the bed.
Emma Benson struggled to get up, but the man tucked the blanket around her and pressed a hand on her shoulder.
"Go to sleep, it's late, I'm going to take a shower." After saying this, he lowered his head, initially intending to give her a kiss, but stopped just before he reached her.
Aware of his heavy scent of alcohol, afraid of making her feel nauseous, he ultimately decided not to.
The man turned and walked to the bathroom, Emma Benson watched his slightly swaying Back, it seemed he had indeed drunk quite a bit.
Emma Benson felt uneasy, she stayed leaning against the headboard, watching the bathroom door, but even after forty minutes Walter Schmidt hadn't come out.
