She knows she's dripping onto he carpet crossing the hallway, through her shirt and off it, and everything on her splattered. It's fast movements, because she needs to get back, but she needs to get out of this shirt. It's hard to pull something like that off and manage to not get it anywhere else. It's revolting and she's sure it slimes her neck and a portion of her hair, before she's balling it up and dropped it in a trashcan.
Reaching for anything nearby to wipe at her pants, and boots that she doesn't pull off, her arms, as well, before dropping that one with the first, and finding another shirt to pull over her head. Not caring she doesn't match in the slightest, or that the rest of her clothes are still beset (with blood, and pie cream, and now vomit). She grabs a hair tie, while headed back out of the room, tying it up, messy and hight, as she gets into the kitchen doorway with fast looks around.
She ends up with a large silver bowl, and two of the hand towels hanging from near the fridge, before she's dashing back. Hoping the best for the carpet, there not being another mess since she left, and, if she was being honest, the catch in her chest to release choking her tight returning because of his being gone so long already, even in so few hours. But he's still there. A solidity that still catches her, now, and again, a second time, like being punched in the face, lungs, stomach at once.
Even as she notes the differences. He's half dressed, under his blanket now, slender scarred shoulders and miserable expression. The blanket is up there, and Sylvi, and the shirts are over there. Jo strove to keep her voice something flatly neutral as the crossed the small space between the door and bed. "Well, at least we know you aren't entirely bedridden. I suppose, that's some kind of plus."
"This is for you." Jo set the bowl on the edge of the bed, towels still in hand, as she sat back down on the ground beside the bed with a hard sigh. "Try to aim. I know boys have a horrible time of it, but still." Jo started working at the mess on the floor, that was framed around where she'd been sitting when he suddenly lost it all. "It's the least you could do now."
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Date: 2016-12-03 03:18 am (UTC)Reaching for anything nearby to wipe at her pants, and boots that she doesn't pull off, her arms, as well, before dropping that one with the first, and finding another shirt to pull over her head. Not caring she doesn't match in the slightest, or that the rest of her clothes are still beset (with blood, and pie cream, and now vomit). She grabs a hair tie, while headed back out of the room, tying it up, messy and hight, as she gets into the kitchen doorway with fast looks around.
She ends up with a large silver bowl, and two of the hand towels hanging from near the fridge, before she's dashing back. Hoping the best for the carpet, there not being another mess since she left, and, if she was being honest, the catch in her chest to release choking her tight returning because of his being gone so long already, even in so few hours. But he's still there. A solidity that still catches her, now, and again, a second time, like being punched in the face, lungs, stomach at once.
Even as she notes the differences. He's half dressed, under his blanket now, slender scarred shoulders and miserable expression. The blanket is up there, and Sylvi, and the shirts are over there. Jo strove to keep her voice something flatly neutral as the crossed the small space between the door and bed. "Well, at least we know you aren't entirely bedridden. I suppose, that's some kind of plus."
"This is for you." Jo set the bowl on the edge of the bed, towels still in hand, as she sat back down on the ground beside the bed with a hard sigh. "Try to aim. I know boys have a horrible time of it, but still." Jo started working at the mess on the floor, that was framed around where she'd been sitting when he suddenly lost it all. "It's the least you could do now."