The first thing Grayson became aware of was the sterile scent of antiseptic. His eyelids felt so heavy that opening them took a lot of effort. Looking at the ceiling, the white walls, and the medical equipment, it seemed that he was in a hospital.
Grayson attempted to piece together the fragmented memories swimming through his consciousness.
The starship… the star pirates… And then—
Nothing.
There's nothing again.
His silver eyes, sharp even in his disoriented state, swept across the room. Slumped in the chair beside his bed was Neville Hope. He was folded into the uncomfortable hospital chair.
His hazel-brown hair was disheveled, falling across his forehead in messy waves, his nerd glasses perched on his nose. The small red mole under the corner of his right eye stood out against his pale complexion.
He looked exhausted.
But Grayson found himself unable to look away.
How long had he been sitting there? How long had he been unconscious?
