Through the haze of smoke, he looked at the person sitting opposite him.
Neither of them spoke.
Hannah had no habit of fighting against her own body. After picking up the spoon and getting used to her stiff fingers for a while, she began to eat.
Medication had also been added to the food.
Yet, Hannah seemed totally unaware of it.
Her movements were somewhat rigid, but she still looked very elegant and pleasing to the eye.
Especially her fingers gripping the silver spoon; under the light, they were cold, white, and delicate, like fine, chilled jade.
A fragile and perfect piece of craftsmanship.
It was very hard for one not to be moved by such a person.
For a moment, Jimmy Simmons thought that even the experiences belonging to Vincent might not be that unacceptable.
At least that fool could sit beside her unrestrainedly, looking up at her with adoration.
To Vincent, Hannah was the moon in the sky.
The only moon.