Self-consciously, she fingers the key card in her pocket. "Why're you coming with me, James?"
It's not accusing -- not really -- so much as tired, unsure, and she'd give anything to have called him Sawyer instead. It suddenly makes her wonder if she's making him wear different names at different times just like she does: Katie, Katherine, Kate, Freckles.
(Even he calls her Kate sometimes, she's noticed, usually when he's angry or not feeling up to his usual tricks for one reason or another.)
He's right, though. Twelve hours was enough, and she's glad she refused to go back for any longer than that.
Her cheeks -- and eyes -- are dry now, but she still takes breaths that sometimes threaten to catch in her chest until they're ragged. She still licks her lips and tastes salt.
no subject
It's not accusing -- not really -- so much as tired, unsure, and she'd give anything to have called him Sawyer instead. It suddenly makes her wonder if she's making him wear different names at different times just like she does: Katie, Katherine, Kate, Freckles.
(Even he calls her Kate sometimes, she's noticed, usually when he's angry or not feeling up to his usual tricks for one reason or another.)
He's right, though. Twelve hours was enough, and she's glad she refused to go back for any longer than that.
Her cheeks -- and eyes -- are dry now, but she still takes breaths that sometimes threaten to catch in her chest until they're ragged. She still licks her lips and tastes salt.
"You want to compare notes?"