Clyde sat quietly, his gaze settling on the boy's back. Micah had turned his back and curled up on the bed, like a child sulking after being told off. His messy silver hair spilled across the pillow. From behind, he looked small.
Clyde's eyes softened just a little.
"Won't you call your family?" he asked, voice low.
"Nah, they are busy," Micah mumbled. "And I'll be discharged soon."
Clyde frowned. He misunderstood the meaning behind Micah's answer. It sounded cold, detached, dismissive. As if he expected no one to care. The Ramsy family... weren't they supposed to be powerful and close-knit? But this boy spoke like he was used to being on his own. Last time also Emile said Micah did not call his family.
Maybe they didn't care about him at all.
"What about friends?" Clyde asked, probing a little more.
