"Give me a few minutes," Tobias said. If Robert were making a quick request for something in Khaat's size, it was because Khaat was in trouble somehow. And if it were for only nightgowns, she was either sick or hurt. Tobias wasn't stupid.
He went into the back and boxed up a good many nightgowns in warm winter fabrics. The prettiest ones he had. He found his nicest shawls and packed them and several pair of warm slipper socks. He included some warm robes for whenever she could use them. Then, as an after thought, he added some pairs of winter pajamas for, hopefully, when she was better enough to use them.
He thought a moment and then went back into the back room and got out a pink cardboard box and set it into the larger box he was packing for Khaat. He scribbled a hasty note and tucked it into an envelope, addressed it to Robert and closed the larger box.
"I'll add it to his tab," Tobias said. "He'll understand the rest. I trust he'll let me know what else he needs."
Upstairs, Marcus had slept a few hours, had showered, shaved, and now returned to the bedroom, feeling refreshed. He hadn't needed more than three or four hours. He hadn't felt comfortable leaving her more than that.
Escobar saw him come back in. "You're an odd human, aren't you?" Escobar asked.
"How so?" Marcus asked.
"You don't sleep, do you?"
"Yes. I do. I did," Marcus said. Escobar looked at him, studying him.
"You're either a trained survivalist. Or you're in love with her," Escobar said.
"I trained in the dark forest in Eastern Europe--by myself," Marcus said. "I know how to survive. And, incidently, my client and I are both married."
"That never stopped anyone before," Escobar shrugged. "But the dark forest does explain a lot. Romania?"
"Romania, Transylvania, that whole region. Foul place in the winter."
"Indeed," Escobar agreed. "But you're not fighting to survive now."
"No," Marcus said. "But she is. And that's enough."
Brian arrived back in the room with the odd little plate and refilled his coffee mug.
"That looks positively disgusting," Escobar frowned. "Its not even hot. How can you eat that?"
"Its food," Brian shrugged.
"Well, when you finish, perhaps you'll finally let someone attend to your burns." Brian looked up at him, not intending for anyone to know about that. Escobar rolled his eyes. "Did you not really look in the mirror? Your hair is singed. Your clothes had burn holes in them when you returned yesterday. We're not morons. And I saw your burns during the night. You're an idiot."