He grinned.
“My frill is screwy enough without you being around.”
He took Hopper’s wrecked meal away while I tried to eat, but Hopper’s heavy breathing and the way he glared at the opposite wall, his face working, turned my stomach. After a couple of attempts to get the food down, I pushed the tray away. What I wanted was a cigarette. I wanted that more than anything in the world.
Bland came back after a while. He had changed out of his white uniform, and now looked so smart I scarcely recognized him. His hand-painted tie nearly made me colour blind.
“What’s up?” he said, looking at my tray. “Think it’s poisoned?”
“Just not hungry.”
He glanced at Hopper who had again crouched down in the bed as soon as he saw him and was glaring at him murderously.
“Well, he won’t put me off my fun,” he said with a grin. “Just take it easy, baby. Don’t bear down on it.”
“I want a cigarette,” I said, “and if I don’t get one I’ll raise the alarm before you get out of the house.”
“You can’t have a cigarette,” Bland said. “You nuts aren’t safe with matches.”