we're always running scared but holding knives
Isla likes to think of herself as a strong woman, but the sudden burst of speed is surprising enough that yes, she absolutely does flinch, and in the couple of seconds before Remi speaks she's absolutely convinced that this is it - today is finally the day when she does get her throat ripped out. So when she hears his whispered voice, the breath she lets go is almost a shudder, the doctor gazing up at him with a mix of sad resignation and indignant fury; not at him, but at the situation.
"I know," she whispers back. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to fight it, Remi. Your behaviour over the past few weeks- and I know why, and I know it isn't fair and I wish I could do anything to change it - but it's made me look like I have no control. And then Grimm comes in with these shackles and like it or not, they worked." Her hands reach out to squeeze his shoulders, an apology as much as anything else.
"If I had anything I could give you, it would be yours," she whispers. "But it's just me." No alarms, no calls to action, no cameras in the room.
"I know," she whispers back. "But I don't know how I'm supposed to fight it, Remi. Your behaviour over the past few weeks- and I know why, and I know it isn't fair and I wish I could do anything to change it - but it's made me look like I have no control. And then Grimm comes in with these shackles and like it or not, they worked." Her hands reach out to squeeze his shoulders, an apology as much as anything else.
"If I had anything I could give you, it would be yours," she whispers. "But it's just me." No alarms, no calls to action, no cameras in the room.
Isla
