Tal swore, and Soh winced. She should have realized that it would be impossible to hide the bruises and cuts on her face. But when he reached for her, Soh flinched away. "Don't -" she said sharply, remembering the rough hand in her hair from the night before. Then she remembered that this was Tal, and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. She stepped back to let him in.
If Tal was observant, he would notice two things that were very out of character for Soh. First, she was dressed almost sloppily, in a larger-than-necessary, scoop-necked shirt that had fallen over one shoulder. Her hair was still damp from the bath and braided carelessly over the other shoulder. The effect, in a different time and place, might have been cute, but on Soh it just looked wrong. Second, she wore a dagger belted around her waist. Soh rarely went armed, and if she did, it certainly wasn't in her shop and home. If one looked closely enough, they would see blood speckled on the hilt of the dagger, and if it was removed from it's sheathe, it would be crusted with dried blood.
"I - I -" Soh stammered, her lip quivering. To explain what had happened would make Tal hate her, she was sure. But she couldn't think of an appropriate lie, either, nor could she bear to be untruthful to one of her best friends. In the end, she took longer than was appropriate to come up with something to say, so she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as though to hold herself together. The back of her exposed shoulder was scratched from where she'd been thrown against the brick of the alley, and if Tal were to check her hands and knees, he would find them skinned from where she'd fallen. All in all, she was a mess.
"I've got medicine," she said finally. It was a half-truth at best, given that the drugs Mateo had given her were only sedatives to help keep panic attacks at bay and help her sleep, but even if she went to a doctor, she was sure there was little they'd be able to do. Her injuries just needed time to heal. Besides, she deserved her injuries.
If Tal was observant, he would notice two things that were very out of character for Soh. First, she was dressed almost sloppily, in a larger-than-necessary, scoop-necked shirt that had fallen over one shoulder. Her hair was still damp from the bath and braided carelessly over the other shoulder. The effect, in a different time and place, might have been cute, but on Soh it just looked wrong. Second, she wore a dagger belted around her waist. Soh rarely went armed, and if she did, it certainly wasn't in her shop and home. If one looked closely enough, they would see blood speckled on the hilt of the dagger, and if it was removed from it's sheathe, it would be crusted with dried blood.
"I - I -" Soh stammered, her lip quivering. To explain what had happened would make Tal hate her, she was sure. But she couldn't think of an appropriate lie, either, nor could she bear to be untruthful to one of her best friends. In the end, she took longer than was appropriate to come up with something to say, so she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as though to hold herself together. The back of her exposed shoulder was scratched from where she'd been thrown against the brick of the alley, and if Tal were to check her hands and knees, he would find them skinned from where she'd fallen. All in all, she was a mess.
"I've got medicine," she said finally. It was a half-truth at best, given that the drugs Mateo had given her were only sedatives to help keep panic attacks at bay and help her sleep, but even if she went to a doctor, she was sure there was little they'd be able to do. Her injuries just needed time to heal. Besides, she deserved her injuries.
