"No," Mark said, though his eyes were closed. "Your mouthbreathing kept me awake." His voice was a deadpan but he didn't intend it to offend. He paused and waited, resting his free hand on the small of Ace's back. Ace was holding Mark's other hand to his face. Mark extended his index finger and touched it to the tip of Ace's nose. His little patient had been so upset in his sleep, squeezing his hand and making small, soft sounds. MArk couldn't see any traces of distress on Ace's expression and so he pulled his hand away to tug his shirt back down. Mark pulled his knees up, feeling his muscles relax from being stuck in the same position. It felt so good. He realized a moment later that his long legs just created a back rest for the patient sitting atop him. If Ace realized it he'd just become a chair but having his knees gave him such a relief he didn't mind at all.<br/>"Define 'hungry'," Mark said, looking up at Ace. "Blood hungry or human junk food hungry? And if you want the junk food do you think you can handle not hurting yourself on the dishes this time?" He took Ace's injured hand and looked at the thumb. "And pop your wrists for me. If they make the right sound you can go back to your games. Otherwise you need to take a break and read." Ace's wrists would pop far too many times, a whole symphony of cracks if he wasn't in the proper shape to continue gaming. There were two braces with velcro that could hold Ace's hands in the proper position until they had mended. Mark knew that Ace didn't like them... perhaps if he glued bows and ribbons onto them... But Ace needed them if his wrists were injured. After his thumb breaking(despite the bowl being to blame) Mark was too focused on the potential danger while he was gone to work not to check on the wrists. "Come on, Ace." He prompted.