By the time he tracked down the bellhop again, the ice had all melted.
* * * * * * * * * *
Yeah, well what the fuck did Hershel expect?! If you ask somebody to fetch you some ice, don't tell them, "I'll be somewhere completely random in this maze-like hotel, you dumb son of a bitch."
I'm sure Lew's failure at this task will be painted as a moral failing, like he's just not trying hard enough or he's unwilling to change.
I know there are always way more than two of a thing whenever somebody says "There are two kinds of X," but I'm going to say it anyway but with a slight mathematical modification so that it isn't as in-your-face stupid as it sounds: There are at least two kinds of readers: those who read about a community of kind individuals trying to help a stranger and think, "If only the real world were like this!" and those who read about a community of kind individuals trying to help a stranger and think, "This is how cannibals act."
I think you know which paranoid choice I am.
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