[Cold? For a moment something just as icy grips him, and he crouches in front of her, pressing fingertips to her brow. There's no relief like the kind that comes when her skin is still warm to the touch, a thin sheen of cold sweat but no pallor like the kind that comes with death in the city.
He stays on bended knee, resting his hands either side of her on the couch.]
You told me you were headed over a few hours ago. I told you I couldn't get away.
[But it's probably not the time or place to lay blame on her.]
☞ But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight
He stays on bended knee, resting his hands either side of her on the couch.]
You told me you were headed over a few hours ago. I told you I couldn't get away.
[But it's probably not the time or place to lay blame on her.]
You're shaking.