Chapter 23 b White Jackets

Drowsily, he almost took a sip, but then he remembered his promise. He turned his mouth away and said, “don’t trick me. I said I wouldn’t.”

Lines creased her forehead and she drew her face back a little. “What do you mean? Aren’t you thirsty?” Her voice was so smooth and manipulative that it cut right through him. The rim of the glass came closer to his lips again. “A poor appetite is a bad sign, don’t you know? And you shouldn’t take this downtime for granted. You never know when you’ll get busy and be unable to drink, again.”

Iggy turned and let go of the glass simultaneously. She caught it easily without spilling a drop. “No, it’s a good sign,” he argued. He stood up and faced away from her.

Even so, her lips drew back and she smiled. “You already drink so little. Doesn’t it hurt you?”

Iggy shrugged his shoulders, then reached and grabbed the new shirt. “I’m used to it…” he sighed. “Besides, I was told to not drink anything.”