JOGAN.

the-hypocritical-critic asked: DWIGHT/MERRIL

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Merril smiled, perching on the edge of the bed with a bowl of hot soup. “I wanted to. Now open.”

Dwight’s lips parted compliantly, eyes flickering to Merril’s face as she spooned soup into his mouth.

“Besides,” she said kindly, “Someone needs to keep you from running around trying to hunt.”

“It’s necessary! For the good of the world!”

“Not when you have a fever. Open.”