Sitting there, on what's supposed to be a safe haven, feels wrong. Shinjirou shifts on the futon, sits on the floor, and crawls back the very moment Jade returns. Sleep would be nice -- if he could stop picking at his scabs, pressing down on the bruises to see how little is necessary to make them burn.

He holds the cup of tea with both hands to stop himself from fidgeting more. "Hah." Thank you. The liquid warmth coats his sore throat with sweetness and fills his cramping stomach with calm. He nudges the blanket aside, though it will probably stain over night anyway, and waits for the balm as he sits and sips on his tea.