[ He had said so, that day she showed up at his cabin with a bottle of bourbon in her hand and an apology on her lips: I care for you. She hadn't known how to deal with that sentiment at the time, but she'd grabbed onto it greedily all the same, clutched it into that part of herself that's still sore and empty from years of being shunned and hated for no other reason than that she'd lived through something terrible and come out of it broken.
She grabs what she'd been looking for, then goes to the sink to pour a glass of water before finally turning back to him. He's got his hand out, imploring, and he's injecting earnestness into every word, and how the hell is she supposed to square any of this with the last couple of months? ]
Do you even know what you're apologizing for?
[ Here's the thing: she knows it would be so much easier if he did just ignore her from now on, if they both ignored each other. Wouldn't it be better to not have him around, expecting the best of her and being off-puttingly sincere at her?
And yet here she is, coming back from the sink with a glass of water that she pushes at him, along with a little coated pill: one of her small collection of ibuprofen tablets. Wynonna holds them both out to him with her eyebrows up, stubborn. ]
Here. Your face looks like it hurts.
[ She's plenty familiar with the dizziness and headaches that come along with getting hit in the face, along with the tender, sore skin. And he probably hasn't been taking any of his own 'capsules.' She's known him long enough now to clock how careful he is with resources, but if she'd gotten hit in the face by Logan, she'd want a painkiller, to. ]
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[ He had said so, that day she showed up at his cabin with a bottle of bourbon in her hand and an apology on her lips: I care for you. She hadn't known how to deal with that sentiment at the time, but she'd grabbed onto it greedily all the same, clutched it into that part of herself that's still sore and empty from years of being shunned and hated for no other reason than that she'd lived through something terrible and come out of it broken.
She grabs what she'd been looking for, then goes to the sink to pour a glass of water before finally turning back to him. He's got his hand out, imploring, and he's injecting earnestness into every word, and how the hell is she supposed to square any of this with the last couple of months? ]
Do you even know what you're apologizing for?
[ Here's the thing: she knows it would be so much easier if he did just ignore her from now on, if they both ignored each other. Wouldn't it be better to not have him around, expecting the best of her and being off-puttingly sincere at her?
And yet here she is, coming back from the sink with a glass of water that she pushes at him, along with a little coated pill: one of her small collection of ibuprofen tablets. Wynonna holds them both out to him with her eyebrows up, stubborn. ]
Here. Your face looks like it hurts.
[ She's plenty familiar with the dizziness and headaches that come along with getting hit in the face, along with the tender, sore skin. And he probably hasn't been taking any of his own 'capsules.' She's known him long enough now to clock how careful he is with resources, but if she'd gotten hit in the face by Logan, she'd want a painkiller, to. ]