“In a moment,” Ryan says, and the nurse nods and bounces away. The moment the door closes behind her, he leans close to Alex and whispers, “What the hell is he doing here?!”
“The alcohol will have worn off,” Alex says, as though Ryan’s a slow child that needs everything explaining in words of one syllable or less. With diagrams.
“So?” Ryan snaps. “He—!” and he lowers his voice again, aware of the beds around theirs. Most of the other patients here are elderly and sleeping, but he doesn’t want to risk it. “He bounced you off a fucking coffee table and just expects to waltz in and see you?!”
Alex shrugs.
Ryan is seething, and it shows. “This is fucking ridiculous, Alex! You have to tell someone! Tell them! Tell the nurse, and they won’t let him in here at all!”
“I’m not doing that,” Alex says calmly.
“Why the hell not?!”
“You know why.”
Ryan growls, low in his throat, and says, “He’s going to fucking kill you.”