[ She's not angry, not really. Frustrated, yes. Exhaustingly so. But for some reason (or maybe he is the reason), she finds telling him this so much easier than she might have any of the others. They know already, have their excuses and so on. Excuses is the wrong word for it, but it's the only term her mind is supplying.
So there is a might of confusion as he steps back, begins to strip. But there's no spark of something else- not right now, even if she can feel a part of her, perhaps her ears, tinting just a little bit darker. For a split second, she imagines she'll see the mark from the other night, the gaping wound, stitched up and healing. She doesn't, of course.
He was the reason they treated her like they did? Made choices for her, lied to her and treated her like she couldn't take care of herself. Because of him? So no, she doesn't pull away when he reaches for her hand. She's left merely in confusion as he lifts it, places it to his chest and while the room was dim, the touch seems to clue in her eyes; a scar. A large one, by the looks of it. And for a moment, she inhales, sharp and cold. But it was in the wrong spot for the wound he'd received only days ago. This was from something else.
Confusion writes itself across her face, eyes narrowing just slightly as her fingers curl and feel out the uneven flesh, softer and nerveless. ]
Someone ... [ The first name to come to mind is Charley. Because that's the only one she knows from this Doctor. ]
I was supposed to. I was going to.
[ But there's no conviction in her voice. She sounds small, suddenly, by comparison. ]
action
So there is a might of confusion as he steps back, begins to strip. But there's no spark of something else- not right now, even if she can feel a part of her, perhaps her ears, tinting just a little bit darker. For a split second, she imagines she'll see the mark from the other night, the gaping wound, stitched up and healing. She doesn't, of course.
He was the reason they treated her like they did? Made choices for her, lied to her and treated her like she couldn't take care of herself. Because of him? So no, she doesn't pull away when he reaches for her hand. She's left merely in confusion as he lifts it, places it to his chest and while the room was dim, the touch seems to clue in her eyes; a scar. A large one, by the looks of it. And for a moment, she inhales, sharp and cold. But it was in the wrong spot for the wound he'd received only days ago. This was from something else.
Confusion writes itself across her face, eyes narrowing just slightly as her fingers curl and feel out the uneven flesh, softer and nerveless. ]
Someone ... [ The first name to come to mind is Charley. Because that's the only one she knows from this Doctor. ]
I was supposed to. I was going to.
[ But there's no conviction in her voice. She sounds small, suddenly, by comparison. ]