10th of November 1893, just before Dawn, a Room at the Hospital of St. Joseph and Ste. Mary, Budapest; @thrylcs
The room has felt his presence for a while, but only barely. Abraham has taken care to stay back, being more of a support and a guidance, keeping the room clear and well supplied, informing the staff of the progress so that they can remain alone. So, when his dearest friend John at last succumbs to his exertions of the day, he is there to take over and assist.
Friend John has fallen asleep, leaning over their so brave and injured friend Quincey. He is, however, in less of a rest and displays some worry at this sleep of his friend, making an attempt to shake him. Abraham’s gentle hand is placed upon that of his brave friend, quietly requesting that he stop his attempt to wake his loyal friend and caretaker.
“He will not rest otherwise, but we can move him so that your arm he does not sleep also,” he says, very softly.
There is a warmth to his words and to his action, but the stern manner of a professor too. He knows his dear friend John too well, and though it may worry the man who must recover his physical wounds, this is a necessary evil. It is a bad affair, to lose to a patient to lack of observance, he does not blame him for working against himself to avoid that happening again. Likewise, it is his own duty to not lose either of the two here with him now.