Throught the Backstreets

Risa was too cold to shake. The cold wind and the wet clothes made her even colder. Her lips were blue.
When they got to their room, Thorne more or less dragged her to the shower.
The warm water washed away the stench from the tunels and some of the cold. But it was not that warm.
Towel.
Bathrobe.
As she climbed into the bed, a cup of hot tea was pushed into her hands.
„Drink this.“
She couldn’t.
A sound of shower.
Cold. Still very cold.
Sigh.
Someone climbing into the bed. A blanket wrapping them both.
Warmth.
Sleep.