[ Once he's done and she's free to slump, she does so, letting out a tired breath. ]
Fucking hell, man. That felt like a punishment for being stabbed.
[ There's no anger in her tone, no blame or resentment toward Frank. He's her suture-wielding hero, after all. But there's a pinched, breathy exhaustion to the observation. She straightens again, takes another deep breath—gulping down stale motel room air like it's a lifeline. ]
I mean, fuck— Thanks.
[ Holding her bloody turtleneck in her lap now, she glances around but doesn't hop off the table yet. When she speaks again, there's something earnest and hopeful in her tone. ] Hey, Frank? [ Turns out, it's fully the tone of someone about to ask for favour number two. ] Is it okay if I crash on the couch for a few hours?
no subject
Fucking hell, man. That felt like a punishment for being stabbed.
[ There's no anger in her tone, no blame or resentment toward Frank. He's her suture-wielding hero, after all. But there's a pinched, breathy exhaustion to the observation. She straightens again, takes another deep breath—gulping down stale motel room air like it's a lifeline. ]
I mean, fuck— Thanks.
[ Holding her bloody turtleneck in her lap now, she glances around but doesn't hop off the table yet. When she speaks again, there's something earnest and hopeful in her tone. ] Hey, Frank? [ Turns out, it's fully the tone of someone about to ask for favour number two. ] Is it okay if I crash on the couch for a few hours?