HungerWheatley was dying.More Like This
His every movement hurt, he was exhausted even though he had slept through most of the day, and his stomach was absolutely killing him. The pain was ten times worse than any of the artificial stuff he had experienced as a core, and it hurt like someone had their hand inside of his stomach in an attempt to flip it inside out.
Wheatley was dying a slow, terrible death, and to top it all off, the lady was laughing at him.
She had delayed her trip into the living room for a very long time (30 whole minutes), not being too keen on seeing him again for obvious reasons. Eventually she had poked her head in to see if he was awake, or maybe, if she was lucky he was sleeping and she too could return to bed (Chell was by no means a lazy person, but she was still tired from luging a half conscious Wheatley all the way from Aperture the day prior). Unfortunately for her, Wheatley was awake, and he spotted her peeking into the room before she had time to retreat