Isla
"I am not sure there is a rulebook for when this sort of thing happens," Isla murmurs; her fingers have absently started to try to smooth out the creases on his shirt, to worry at the bloodstain that marks the collar, before she reminds herself not to. "You didn't do anything wrong," she continues, though she isn't sure she can say why. Because I wanted you to springs to mind, and the medic slams the proverbial lid back on that box.
Only, it keeps wanting to open back up again, and Isla smiles over her shoulder at the mess of the equipment she'll need to clean up later. "It's okay, honestly. It was... it... yeah." It was nice, she wants to say, but of course there is very little to do about it now. Giving him an exaggeratedly friendly pat on the shoulders and shooting him a smile that tells the whole sorry story about what did and didn't just happen, Isla moves to step back.
"I got the manticore, pretty sure."
Only, it keeps wanting to open back up again, and Isla smiles over her shoulder at the mess of the equipment she'll need to clean up later. "It's okay, honestly. It was... it... yeah." It was nice, she wants to say, but of course there is very little to do about it now. Giving him an exaggeratedly friendly pat on the shoulders and shooting him a smile that tells the whole sorry story about what did and didn't just happen, Isla moves to step back.
"I got the manticore, pretty sure."
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
