[Edgeworth is also looking considerably rougher than he did when the boy left. he's nauseated, flushed, strands of hair matted to his forehead. worst of all, it's a familiar feeling. he's starting to suspect the true nature of this virus, and isn't at all pleased. before Winner can leave the room he comes closer, under the guise of retrieving the clothes, and is rewarded with an unmistakable lessening of his symptoms.]
[heaves a long-suffering sigh and retreats to the other side of the bed.] I won't be long.
no subject
[heaves a long-suffering sigh and retreats to the other side of the bed.] I won't be long.