[ Blearily, she peers up at him from beneath her throw. While her focus shifts to his hand, she doesn't take it, believing it won't actually do anything to help her up, all considered. ]
I'm not going back there.
[ Torso teetering back, she cups a hand over her wound, eye travelling wayward and settling nowhere in particular amongst the expanse of the ceiling. ]
This is much more preferable. And that's saying something, I imagine.
no subject
I'm not going back there.
[ Torso teetering back, she cups a hand over her wound, eye travelling wayward and settling nowhere in particular amongst the expanse of the ceiling. ]
This is much more preferable. And that's saying something, I imagine.