When Chris saw Sylvia, he looked a little guilty. He opened his mouth, but couldn't quite find the words.

Trying to break the tension, Sylvia jumped in first. "Dr. Chris, I twisted my ankle. Could you take a look and see if there's any way to get the swelling down fast? I have a really important press conference tomorrow."

Chris's eyes lit up when he realized she still trusted him. He nodded with a determined grin. "Don't worry, I've got you covered."

As he examined her ankle, Chris started rambling off a bunch of advice, practically lecturing her.

Finally, he looked at Sylvia with an awkward expression. "Sylvia, I'm really sorry."

Sylvia gave him a reassuring smile. "It's not your fault, so stop beating yourself up about it."

Relieved by her answer, Chris got back to work, packing her ankle with an ice pack and then carefully applying some pain relief cream.

While Orson went to fetch the prescription, Chris made tea for Rupert and Sylvia -proper English breakfast tea this time.

Chris seemed back to his usual self, pouring tea and glancing at Rupert. "So, Rupert, how's your sleep these days? Still dreaming about that little girl?"

Sylvia's hand froze halfway to her lips. "What little girl?"

Chris realized too late that Rupert hadn't told Sylvia about the dreams. He shot Rupert a worried look.

Rupert just sipped his tea calmly, not objecting, so Chris figured it was fine to go

on.

been in so many accidents lately, Rupert keeps dreaming about a little girl-says he has to save you, and she gives him all these clues. The weirdest

tipped over, spilling tea everywhere. Stella! The thought

gazes on her, she hurried to mop up the mess. "Sorry, just

Rupert asked,

as she wiped the

said suddenly, looking up. "My grandma used to say those are just prophetic dreams. It's just your mind piecing together stuff you already

Rupert could see right through her, but who would

She almost blurted out that she'd

started, but Rupert

glance,

relief and turned to Chris. "Dr. Chris, what were

too." Chris quickly shifted the topic, half-joking. "Mr. Rupert, you're dreaming about your future kid-and even decided it's a girl. Maybe you're thinking about this a bit too

spit out

dark and searching,

put his cup down, saying mildly, "A daughter

his

drink more tea

Of, you know, get

work

ve

Maybe you'll have that

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