The whirring. The colors. Everything hovering over his head was causing the room to spin even more than it did. There was a terrible pain in his chest, one that felt as if it were fit to burst open at the slightest touch. The room had gone cold, and Agrimony shivered as he tried to curl in on himself. Even as a thick blanket settled atop his figure, he still felt as if there was a chill that went right through him. He could only hear what was going on around him. Shutting his eyes helped but only marginally so.

“I never seem to have any luck, and yet you’re saying I seem to have it in abundance.” He muttered acidly as he peeped open an eye.

He’d never seen this woman before in his life — who was she and why was she his sudden saving grace? He wanted to swat her away as she worked but she merely pushed back against him if he tried to do anything except lay there. “Foxwood, the hell is this shrew you’ve brought to my establishment?” He coughed, the taste of copper bright on his tongue.

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