Lee draws back now, just enough to try to get a good look at her face. One of his hands moves to her shoulder, the other reaching to try to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Longest week of my life, but just a week. All of the others--"
That's blood on her sleeve. Blood on her sleeve, and a sloppily stitched wound, and for the second time in a half hour Lee Everett forgets how to make himself breathe. No. No, not her, not like this, god-fucking-dammit, and the squeeze of his hand on her shoulder grows tight. Not painful, but probably uncomfortable, and his tone is quiet, shakier than her stitching.
no subject
Lee draws back now, just enough to try to get a good look at her face. One of his hands moves to her shoulder, the other reaching to try to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Longest week of my life, but just a week. All of the others--"
That's blood on her sleeve. Blood on her sleeve, and a sloppily stitched wound, and for the second time in a half hour Lee Everett forgets how to make himself breathe. No. No, not her, not like this, god-fucking-dammit, and the squeeze of his hand on her shoulder grows tight. Not painful, but probably uncomfortable, and his tone is quiet, shakier than her stitching.
"How did it happen?"