Sūrya holds Moss's fevered hand, her cool, pale fingers contrasting with his damp, dark skin, medical displays casting a sterile glow.Moss slumps on the floor, his modified form frail, as Sūrya rises, hand reaching out in concern.Moss lies in the medical bed, dermal patches marking his chest, his gaunt face turned away, the room oppressive and confining.Moss lies on a sterile medical bed, his amber-streaked eyes reflecting the pale red data on the wall, the room's shadows emphasizing his vulnerability.Moss’s damp, dark palm meets Sūrya’s small, ivory fingers on the sterile medical sheet, cool light casting deep shadows.Vihaan sets a tray of pale food beside Moss, who lies half-curled and sweat-damp, the sterile light casting deep shadows.Sūrya's rigid posture contrasts with Moss's calm presence as they study the tablet, his hand resting beside it, eyes meeting hers.Moss lies on the medical platform, dermal patches and IV line in place, his altered form casting shadows in the dim light.Moss lies still on the platform, amber-streaked eyes fixed on the sterile ceiling, as the probability bar inches forward.Sūrya's cool hand clutches Moss's fevered one, their fingers interlaced under the sterile lights.
