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He smiles back. A little.

"I'm gonna go to sleep," he says. "G'night, Aya."

And, more slowly than he might under ideal conditions, he gets up.
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"Good night."

She disposes of the things that need disposing of, and then she goes back into her own room to wind down for the evening.
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The next morning, he does not emerge from his room. At all. (He never bothers to shut his own door behind him when he leaves; this is not a matter of Aya having missed him going off to some day-engulfing event.)
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Aya ignores this fact until it's about noon.

Then she goes to get lunch, and brings up an extra little meat pie for him, and knocks tentatively on his door.
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He opens it.

He does not appear to have changed clothes since last night, or indeed done anything but lie in bed and weep intermittently. His hair is an awful mess.
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Aya holds up the meat pie.

"I brought you some food. If you're hungry."
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"...thanks," he says. He reaches for the pie.

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She relinquishes it. "Do you want anything else?"

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"I don't know," he says. He looks like he might be about to say something else, and then doesn't.

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"Hmm?"

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He hesitates, then shakes his head.

"I'm probably going to stay in here for... a while, except for going to dinner. You can keep bringing me food if you want, but I'll live through it if you don't. I've done all this before."
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"I," says Aya with a brief smile, "will be up and down the stairs to get food anyway."

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...He actually laughs.

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Aya shrugs. "I can't do anything farther upstream. I can bring you lunch, though."

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"Bringing me lunch is - still nice," he says.

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"I know."

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Smile? Smile.

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"...Do people in general - I guess practically speaking I'm mostly asking about Berete and the kitchen slaves - know about - things? Is there a reason not to mention it, or to make something up if I get asked about the gauze or the missing aloe leaf or anything?"

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"Berete can probably guess," he says. "She's been around long enough. I don't think she knows how bad it is, though. And it might be a bad idea to let her find out. She's nice; she might fuss."

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"And her fussing would - get her dismissed?" guesses Aya.

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"Or something. It definitely wouldn't do anyone any good."

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Aya frowns, but nods. "I'll avoid bringing it up."

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"Thanks."

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"You're welcome. There's nothing to be done, is there?"

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"About Father? Besides wait for him to die? Not really."

Well, there's always... not waiting. But that can be part of 'not really', because it would be so very hard to pull off.
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