Miranda’s tour of the hospital is gestures in different directions and a rapid-fire rundown of the rules.
“Well, that’s it.”
He gapes. They are still in front of his room. “Wha—”
“Good luck.” She walks away.
Because he doesn’t know what else to do, he follows her.
She glares at him over her shoulder but doesn’t say he can’t.
In the courtyard, she sidles up to a tall man with bad posture. The man’s drooping blue eyes gaze thoughtfully down at Shou. He looks between Shou and Miranda. His lips quirk. “Why hello,” he drawls, “and who might you be?”