“Oh, Wright…” He shrugged. “Three reasons… he might not know about the predicament. He could already be in here himself and we’re not allowed to interact. Or… he might not be allowed to visit.” He shrugged. “Quarantine is very stringent.”
Just then, their door opened. A lady came in wearing a mask, carrying two trays of hospital food. She lay each one down on the occupant’s serving stands, and abruptly left again without saying another word.
“I suppose you can call this your dinner…” Edgeworth sighed as he eyed off his tray. It was… something wrapped in foil. A hot liquidy soup accompanied whatever it was. It smelled bland and unappetizing.