Rain pattered against the window as the dim glow of two gas wall lamps barely illuminated the room, leaving a dampness that clung to the skin.
Jenny sat on a low chair, Zweit standing before her. Her face was flushed from the fever, her eyes filled with confusion. She could feel the slight calluses on his hand as he cupped her chin, and she couldn't help but stiffen, instinctively gripping the chair. Zweit couldn't suppress a slight curl of his lips at her fearful expression.
He released her, turned, and walked to the door, pulling a glass bottle from his coat pocket. He came back and handed it to her. The bottle was labeled quinine, but it looked different from the ordinary kind she'd seen at the pharmacy.
"Take one."
Jenny opened the bottle and swallowed a pill. He went to the kitchen, fetched a glass of water, and brought it to her lips. She took a few sips, then he took the cup and told her to go lie down in bed. Seeing her motionless, nervously biting her lip as if afraid he might take advantage of her, Zweit wondered when he had become that kind of person in her eyes. But he didn't bother to explain; instead, he played along, as long as she remained afraid.
"Go in yourself, or do you need my help?"
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