forever and never [reed]

It had been a couple of weeks since the big Marchesi gala in Italy and the past few weeks had felt like a blur. A literal, gray blur where days melted together, memories fuzzy and unfocused, the only thing standing out in sharp clarity was the pressing feeling of being overwhelmed. No matter what she did or what she focused on or what tasks she delegated to her junior designers, there was still more work. It was a good problem to have, the logical part of her brain knew that, but the part that dealt with the stress of it all was not adequately prepared. Plus on top of her workload, her mother had taken a turn for the worse lately. Her mental state was in disrepair and Marisa was portkeying to Italy a few times a week where her mother was being taken care of in a private facility thanks to Moreta’s connections and line of credit. And whether due to all of that or simply an ill-timed side effect, Marisa was also not sleeping well and somehow kept forgetting to eat regular meals so it felt like each day was drudging forward so slowly.

It was a good thing she wasn’t much of a drinker because she certainly felt compelled to lose herself in something and turn off her brain. Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you looked at it), there was all sorts of alocohol available at the shop, calling to her especially now after such a long day. The bell over the door chimed softly, signaling the last client had left for the day and Marisa was pouring herself a glass of top shelf whiskey a few moments later.

The Marchesi tailoress sat maybe for the first time today in one of the midnight blue leather wingback chairs and slipped off the heels she’d worn. Her bare feet touched the plush rug with a relieved sigh as she sipped. Her assistant Carlotta breezed through the room, checking things off her closing to do list with quick inefficiency and little chatter. It was odd for her to move quickly so Marisa knee that meant she wanted to get out do there soon, probably to meet up with her new beau. “Seeing Thom tonight?” Marisa asked with a knowing smile. She was happy for her younger cousin and honestly her help had been very useful these last few weeks.

The bell chimed above the door and both of the women turned to look. A tall, familiar figure was silhouetted against the low lamplights and she recognized the broad line of his shoulders. “Reed? What are you doing here?” she asked by way of greeting as she set her glass down and reached for her heels, embarrassed to be caught barefoot, the skirt of her velvet sapphire dress brushing against her legs as she stood back up.

She caught the look Carlotta sent her and Marisa gave her a nod, sending her off with a wave of her hand. Carlotta didn’t waste any time, giving a smile and a “bye Mr. Stringfellow” before grabbing her cloak and disappearing quickly.

 Marisa returned her gaze to Reed. “Did you need something? I.. I don’t think we have any orders ready for you?” she said with a frown at the unexpected visit and felt odd being unprepared for him.

Reed tried to tell himself he would be happy when March was over and London decided what kind of weather to have: winter or spring, but then he remembered he was not an optimist but a realist, and honestly, he just missed the Italian Riviera. London was so gray and mushy compared to everywhere he had the luxury of working, and not even the waterproofing charms on his custom Marchesi suit could stop his mood from dampening. Trudging through the muddy streets toward the Italian Tailor shop, Reed turned what little information he had over in his head again and again. He had a hard time believing that Marisa would get mixed up in anything on the shadier side of things, her brother sure, and Moreta, positively, but not Marisa. She had always seemed so careful, and Reed did not like thinking she might have fooled him so easily.

He’d made sure to wait until the last customer had left for the day; Reed was always particular about having the last appointment when he came to the shop on schedule, so he knew Marisa’s hours like he knew the hands on his luxury timepiece. And stopped just outside the shop, waiting for her assistant to start closing before he peeked his head inside. But, of course, he didn’t wait for permission to enter, the door was still unlocked, and he was a (highly) paying customer. Carlotta, which Reed barely noticed once he’d laid eyes on Marisa, bid him farewell, and he smirked at the way she had said his name. He made a mental note to see about taking her to a late dinner sometime because Reed wouldn’t be caught dead on a lunch date.

Then again, there was only one witch in the room he’d like to take for dinner, and it wasn’t the young Marchesi assistant. He watched Marisa as she hurried to put her shoes back on, and he imagined that was the most casual he had ever seen her. And was she drinking? He’d have to start popping in late at night unexpectedly more often; Merlin knew he would have loved to see more sides of her. Metaphorically and literally.

Waiting until the door behind him clicked securely shut, Reed offered Marisa a nod as if he had a very legitimate reason for being here. “Carlotta owled me to stop in for the charcoal suit we discussed last week.” A blatant lie, but what did he care about throwing Carlotta under the Knight Bus? He didn’t know her and didn’t care about either. In reality, he was buying time and trying to figure out if the rumors he’d heard were true. Was Marisa mixed up in something she shouldn’t be? Were there wizards hell-bent on using her for something he still wasn’t sure of? None of it made sense, but Reed had been spinning plates trying to figure it out since the moment Maria’s name came to him in a whisper.

"She did? I--" Marisa glanced at the door that Carlotta had sailed through without a word or warning and the tailoress looked back at him as she tried to filter back through her mental memory of the orders she had worked on this past week. She was lucky she knew her own name at this point because her brain felt like mush. And still she didn't remember anything about the charcoal suit set for this week. She could have sworn it wasn't even on the docket until next week. "The charcoal suit? Are you su--" She stopped herself short when she realized how she was sounding. Incompetent. The thought grated on her, especially after the gala a couple of weeks ago and everything that had happened during the damned awards ceremony. Serves her right for being so concerned about superficial awards.

"Just give me a moment and I'll pull it for you," she told him instead as she moved towards the backroom. If Carlotta had owled him about the suit and simply forgotten to tell her about it, she should easily be able to find it. But she checked and then checked again the rack for completed orders and didn't find it. She even checked the other racks for in progress, needs fitting, etc and still nothing. She didn't have time to go back through the books to see the order. At least not right now with him waiting out there. Marisa tried not to look as foolish as she felt when she came back empty-handed. "I'm sorry I'm not sure what happened, some miscommunication? I can deliver it to your office as soon as it's ready?" she offered with an apologetic smile as she rubbed her palms together.

"Or I can owl her and get her to come back so we can sort this out. I'm sure she wouldn't mind," she tacked on even though that was far from the truth. She knew Carlotta had been itching to leave to spend time with her boyfriend, but she could have at least told Marisa about this late pickup.

Of course, Carlotta hadn't owled Reed to come and collect a suit he hadn't adequately been fitted for yet, so none of what happened next would matter, but Reed didn't feel guilty about the deception. An average person might have, but honesty got good people killed in his line of work, and lies were like armor.

Seeing Marisa scramble was another thing Reed had never witnessed before. The organized witch ran this shop like a well-oiled machine, and Reed respected that about her. He'd never seen her not one hundred percent aware of every moving piece. So when she offered to go to the back to check for his suit, he was almost tempted to tell her it was not necessary. However, it bought him time, and there was no level Reed wouldn't stoop to serve his purpose. In reality, he was here to protect her, but he wasn't above tricking Marisa to do it.

She wasn't gone long enough, but it was enough time for Reed to lock the front door and pull the shades closed. He realized what it might have looked like, and he had every intention of explaining some part of what he was doing to her, but fate had other ideas. Marisa returned to the shop's lobby and offered to call Carlotta back, but Reed shook his head. "Marisa, I need to tell you something, and you are not going to like it," Reed began. He didn't have enough fingers on his hands to count how many times he'd had to tell an asset that their lives were in danger, but this one stung. Marisa wasn't an asset assigned to her by the British Ministry, she was someone he knew in his daily life, and Reed hated when the lines blurred.

Reed considered removing his black overclock but moved toward her instead. There wasn't a lot of time for niceties, though he would not have minded a glass of whatever she'd been about to have. "Marisa—" Reed began, but something crashed through the front window of the shop, and everything went dark. "Get down!" He shouted, hearing the boots that hit the tiles near the window and then the carpet that split the difference between them. Reed focussed, using his ears instead of his eyes, and grabbed one of the assailants before they were able to reach her and threw them at the mirrored wall behind them. The mirrors smashed, crashing into the ground, and he turned back to where he thought he'd seen her last, blinking into the darkness.

His statement made her blink up at him and she clutched her fingers together in front of her tightly, squeezing them as a way to focus in as her thoughts went wild with his implication. Her face paled a little and she tried not to jump to the very worst of conclusions, but what else was she supposed to think when he showed up here out of blue, unexpected, and had that serious look on his face. Marisa nodded at him and steeled herself. Whatever it was, she could survive it. She had handled worse before. "Alright.." she started, watching as he stepped closer, calculating the distance to keep out of arm's length like she usually did. She had taken off her bracelets because they were giving her a headache and now regretted it because she didn't want to be more susceptible to her visions with Reed here.

But it was then that she noticed the drapes were pulled and she glanced at him in confusion. "Did you---" she started to ask but then let out a short scream of alarm as the window shattered and everything went black. Her knees clattered against the Italian marble tile and she winced in pain even as the panic and adrenaline coursed through her. She tried to remember her Auror training from what felt like a century ago, but she didn't have her wand on her. It was sitting prettily next to the whiskey glass she had abandoned on the table and she wasn't skilled enough for wandless magic. And she couldn't see a thing. Her breath felt loud in her ears, but maybe if she could get to her wand..

Marisa reached out blindly, blinking against the pitch black darkness, trying to feel for the furniture so she would know where she was, but she only met the sounds of crunching glass against her palms. Tiny scrapes and pinpricks of pain as she drew her hands back before she heard a scuffle - was that Reed? - and then the sound of a great crash and the shower of something akin to glass hitting the tile. Another window? Perhaps the mirror? She felt the spray of shards brush her cheek and she was quick to turn away covering her head  before she stilled. What the hell were people doing here? Attacking the shop like this?

But she didn't hear anything else, no one else moving in the darkness. Perhaps.. Reed had handled it? But wait. Wait if Reed was the one to have crashed into whatever that was. Fear grabbed at her and she softly called out, a whisper in the dark. "Reed?"

Reed had been able to grab one of them, throwing him up against the mirrored wall, but another came out of the darkness, and Reed felt something blunt hit him across the face. The force nearly knocked him over, and Reed took a step back, swinging and hitting something, but he had no idea what. He blinked against the darkness, feeling that familiar sensation of warm liquid running down from his eyebrow. He smeared it with the sleeve of his suit and pulled his wand out of the lining. Reed only had a split second to access and decide, so instead of something lethal, a far simpler spell glowed from his wand.

The light from his Lumos sent shadows rippling across the store, and Reed squinted in the uneven glow. He saw the man closest to him first, and another spell flung out from his wand. The wizard fell to the ground quickly, immobilized but alive, and then Reed's eyes landed on Marisa. She'd called out his name, but he hadn't answered. "Get your wand!" He shouted at her, a roughness in his voice she had never heard. The casual charmer Marisa had come to know was gone now, replaced by the darkness he hid behind suits and cognac.

A third man emerged like a nightmare from the shadows and reached Marisa before Reed could get a shot off. He grabbed her, trying to put the woman between himself and Reed's wand, and Reed ran toward them. Marisa was rigid; she looked pale in the glow of the Lumos, but all Reed saw was the wizard behind her. He pushed him away, grabbing the open bottle she'd left on the table and smashing it over the man's head before using his fists, hitting him again and again until he couldn't tell where the blood from the wizard's face started, and his knuckles ended.

Three men lay unconscious on the shop floor, the window shattered, and broken pieces of the mirror scattered around them. Reed swallowed hard, his head was throbbing, but he had no intention of stopping to check his damage. Instead, he moved quickly across the room and looked at Marisa up and down. "Are you hurt?" He asked, looking for any signs of damage, visions of Marisa freezing when the man grabbed her, resurfacing.

She heard sounds in the dark, ugly sounds that she didn't like at all, and because she didn't know who was doing what to whom, it made her more panicked, more determined to help somehow. Marisa tried not to let her worries about Reed take over or the overwhelming panic override her senses so she grit her teeth against the feel of broken glass under her hands as she felt for a piece of furniture to orient herself. Ah, the chaise. So her wand should be about three meters to her left so she---

Light from her right made her squint and blink, but she didn't have time to question as she heard the urgency and roughness of his tone that sent her into full flight. She scrambled to her feet, slipping in her heels against the glass and stumbling only once with a painful stab to her knee that she tried to push out of her mind as she took the last few steps, her arm outstretched for her wand. She could almost sigh in relief when she grasped the familiar vine wood wand, but it was short lived.

The light from his wand helped her orient herself, but it also helped the third man that Marisa had never even seen find her. Before she could fight him off, he grabbed her, his hands gripping tightly around her upper arms and she could only let out a gasp before she was caught in a vision that she tried to fight off but lost anyway.

Her wand dropped from her fingertips, useless, as her Sight gripped her. Her body went rigid in his arms, her honey colored eyes glazing over, distant as someone else's memories forced their way into her mind. They flickered through fast and angry, quicker than normal, but the overtones of emotion were heavier and harder to handle, stealing her breath away. Wizards in dark cloaks. Inked symbols on their arms, all the same. Was that her brother Marco with them? Someone screaming - a man - for someone to stop. His face and arms and hands bloodied from dozens of razor thin cuts, a curse they kept doing to different parts of his body. The stabbing, writhing pain from the Cruciatus flooding her, but she was unable to move to quell any of it.

The images went quicker, she couldn't breathe, his hands here still on her. Marco. Heavy, golden rings on fingers. Money, someone was demanding money. Poker chips and a deck of cards. Faces of wizards and witches flickering through, people she had never seen before. A golden signet on a pinky. A dirty underground room, water dripping. A chained man. Terrible smell. A snifter glass. Wand being twirled between thick finger. More of the Cruciatus, make it stop! More cuts on arms, face, hands. Dripping with blood. Where was her little brother? Marco! The shop, her shop, she could see them---

Marisa gasped a loud breath, sucking air into her lungs, gasping repeatedly, as her visions receded and she touched a hand to her stomach, feeling nauseous. "Reed?" she asked as she looked at him, trying to reorient herself with what was real. Her face was pale and she gave him an automatic "yes" to his question, feeling the remnants of the Cruciatus through memories that weren't hers. Oh wait. No, that hadn't happened to her. "No, I mean no," she whispered as she touched her head, a pounding headache already coming on, not realizing she was leaving behind bloody fingerprints as her hands were sliced up from the broken mirror. Marisa struggled to wrap the present back around her, still panting for air, her chest rising and falling quicker than it should, trying to force herself back to normal so she could figure out what the hell to do next, but it was like all her mental capacities were locked away and she couldn't grab anything to hold on to.

Three men down and the shop half-destroyed, Reed sucked in a ragged breath. His heart was racing, adrenaline pumping on overdrive; it was enough to make him forget the blood that trickled down the side of his face. And Marisa’s voice consumed the rest of his attention. She said yes, and his eyes raked over her to assess the damage, and then she changed her mind and said no, and Reed exhaled. Her well-being was paramount, but they had to get out of here. “They will send more,” he said gruffly, moving to the man he’d beat nearly to death and grabbing his wand, and then the same for the other two. The one who had hit the mirror moaned slightly, and Reed kicked him in the ribs. He cast a silent binding spell and then returned to Marisa.

“Your bleeding,” he noted, the glow from his wand was enough to see the cuts on her hands, and he wanted nothing more than to soothe that pain for her, but there was no time. “We have to leave, now.” It was not a question, it was a demand, and he didn’t wait for her to ask questions. He was hyper focussed now, his mind going a mile a minute, wondering if the back door was locked, if her assistant had told someone they would be here late tonight, and who else might becoming. Reed had a million questions, but they all circled back to Marisa.

Reed was careful as he reached for her hands to apparate them away; everything about the movement was the opposite of the brutal power he’d just put on display.

"Who will?" she questioned, her head throbbing and she tried to take a slow breath in to regulate the pain. But her little headache wasn't exactly the most pressing issue considering there were three unconscious men in her shop and his warning sent her gaze around to the door and windows as if expecting someone else to appear any moment. Her nerves were fried already from the vision and now from this unknown threat. She turned away from the men slumped on her shop floor, she didn't want to see Reed as he kicked the man in the ribs.

His note about her bleeding made her shake her head at him in confusion. "No, I'm not," she said firmly, telling herself that the blood she had seen in her vision wasn't real. It wasn't hers and it wasn't real. The line between past and present seemed so fuzzy, both filled with fear and danger that it was hard to find the dividing line. He wasn't helping. But as she glanced down and bent to pick up her wand, she realized there was blood on her hands. Oh.

We have to leave, now. She nodded once, knowing that was the smart thing, but she was having a hard time pulling together her wits enough to be able to apparate. The break in, the vision, Reed bleeding like that -- Shit, he was bleeding-- "Are you alr-- no, don't," she said, realizing he was reaching for her hands probably to apparate them, but the only thought she had was of not wanting him to touch her and cause another vision. She pulled away but not quick enough because she soon felt the breath being sucked out of her and disappearing into the black void before gasping in a breath on the other side when they landed.

"Don't do that again," she warned as she took a step away hastily, realizing that his touch hadn't caused a vision before the apparition, but she wasn't going to chance it again. Her head pounded, her nerves frayed, adrenaline coursing through her body with nowhere to go and Marisa could only look around at this place she didn't recognize.

Reed ignored her question, and when she said she was not hurt, but not because he wasn’t aware that she was talking, but because neither warranted an immediate response. He had gone into emergency mode, on high alert, and waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Marisa found her wand and took a steadying breath. Reed had a lot more experience in this sort of magic, the high intensity, no time to calm down, get-get-the-hell-out-of-dodge apparating, so he prepared to cast them away from this place quickly. Reaching for her hands, Reed ignored her again as she told him to stop and grabbed them anyway.

They disapparated with a faint pop, and Reed led them to the only place he trusted in times like this: his heavily fortified and ridiculously enchanted high rise flat overlooking the London skyline. The ministry had safe houses scattered across England, but Reed did not trust them. Everyone could be bought, and they were not dealing with small-time thieves. Only someone reasonably powerful would risk causing trouble in a Marchesi shop, a sanctioned haven for the underworld, and Reed was all too aware of what it meant. If someone was willing to cross Moreta and the Marchesi family, it was big business, and it was worth killing over.

“Did you get splinched?” Reed asked, pulling off his cloak and suit jacket by the door and wincing as he felt a pang of pain surge over his ribs. That first man had gotten a good hit in before he’d had a date with the mirror. “Come here,” Reed said as he turned on lamps and moved further into the apartment. First, the one in the foyer, the ambient ones underneath the kitchen cabinets, came to life on their own, casting a glow out over the island and toward the seating area. Reed moved to the desk that sat perpendicular to a large wall of windows, glass floor to ceiling that displayed London like something out of a postcard.

“Let me see your hands?”

The shop, the vision, and now here. His flat? She had been in too many places in just under a few minutes and she was disoriented. Her steps were wooden as she trailed after him like a ghost, pale, her thoughts scattered, her body not feeling like it was hers. She shook her head at his splinched question automatically, though she didn't know for sure. The pain of her headache and from her hands was hers, but it rivaled with the phantom pain she thought she felt left over from a Cruciatus that she hadn't been cursed with.

The all white of his apartment, set aglow with golden light from the lamps was such a stark contrast to the shop's dark mahogany and jewel toned decor that it was jarring. And she had never been afraid of heights, but the sight of the floor to ceiling glass windows the stretched the length of the wall behind him made her stumble a step, sliding in her heels.

It felt hard to breathe in that moment, like she couldn't get in enough air so she started inhaling quicker. There was this deep-seated fear of more wizards barging through his front door or even worse, through the wall of windows, and attacking again. If only she could stop whatever she was doing, stop freaking out and think rationally, she knew she had tools from her Auror training that she could put to use to protect herself. Something she had down a poor job of a the shop, another thing to be mortified about, but that could at least wait until she could breathe.

Her heart beat felt too fast and she reached out a hand to one of the white leather couches in front of her, only to shrink back with a flinch when she remembered the cuts on her hand, feeling pricks of pain and knowing there must be glass stuck in there. Added to the fact that she now had to remember the cleaning charm because she had just bloodied his couch. Merlin, she was a mess. Her back was too tight and her legs were too shaky and she realized that something was happening to her, but she didn't know what and couldn't stop it. "Reed?" she gasped, dragging in another breath, her hand shaking as she pressed it to her chest, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Reed got to work looking for one of probably seven different first aid kits that were scattered around the apartment. Everything was neat and organized, which meant tucked away, and most of the time, he appreciated the clean, uncluttered feel of his apartment, but right now, he wished some things were just easier to get to. He opened drawer after drawer on the island until he found the kit. A remnant leftover from the days when he served in the Knockturn Alley Syndicate, the tin box was worn on the edges, but the latch still worked. He set it on the counter, blood from his knuckles leaving tiny breadcrumb droplets across the white quartz surface.

Magic was great for disinfecting and closing wounds, but nothing beat a pair of tweezers and a steady hand when it came to removing small pieces of glass embedded in the skin. Reed had learned that lesson the hard way. Once he’d found the things they’d need, he looked back to Marisa, half expecting her to have met him at the kitchen island already, but she looked stunned. Ghost white, her gaze miles away, and he saw her hand on her chest. “Shit,” He said softly; Reed knew that look.

He moved across the room to her quickly, ignoring the blood on his sofa, and reached for her. His hands gripped her upper arms tightly, and he shook her a little. “Marisa, look at me.” He demanded, gruff and dauntless, “Look at me, your safe now, Marisa, your safe.” Repeating it like a mantra, Reed shook her again in an attempt to break her out of the daze before it got its claws in too deep. She’d been through a lot, and Merlin knew she earned this anxiety, but they didn’t have time for it right now.

“Marisa, can you hear me?”

She saw rather than felt him grip her arms and at that she gasped, her fear heightening, expecting another vision to take over any second, trying to fight against the slide into someone else's memories she didn't want to see. Her breath was stuck in her throat, but at least her Sight wasn't gripping her. Only Reed, his hands circling her biceps, squeezing as he demanded she look at him.

So she did. And it wasn't much better. She hadn't realized in the shop how injured he was. Blood leaking down the side of his face, much worse than her paltry scrapes. Merlin, he needed a healer and she needed to get it together, but it was like her body was not cooperating.

She tried to take his words, repeating them in her head. I'm safe, I'm safe, I'm safe. But it was so at odds with the fact that he was still gripping her arms. She wanted to believe him, she wanted to regain her composure, this was so embarrassing, but whatever part of her mind was still functioning, it's not the part that was talking to her body.

Tears pricked at her eyes and she drug in shallow breaths, gasping for each one, as he shook her again making her teeth rattle. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okayI'm okayI'm okay, she repeated, but it wasn't helping. He was still touching her. She had avoided touch for so long that it was making her even worse.

"Let... go.." she managed to say between gasps, her eyes still wide, her legs shaking beneath her.

Reed hadn’t meant to hurt her, but when she told him to let her go, he realized how tightly his hands had been wrapped around her arms. He blinked, releasing her and taking a half step back. Shit, he thought again, and his hand moved to run over his short hair. “You should sit down,” He told her, observing her as she swayed a little. Reed knew that Marisa had been training to become an Auror, but he also knew how long it had been since then. She wasn’t prepared for something like this, and why should she be? It wasn’t as if he had expected anything different to happen.

He ushered her toward the chairs at the island but was careful to keep enough of a distance from her this time. His arm outstretched in case she needed it for balance, but without pressure. His suit jacket already removed, Reed used his free hand to unbutton his long sleeve shirt quickly. He let the expensive material fall onto the sofa behind him. He would have been so careful to hang it any other time so that it was ready for dry cleaning day, but he had more significant worries now. Reed gripped the bottom of his undershirt and pulled it up toward his face to wipe at the blood that had gathered near his eyebrow. The bruises that were forming across his abdomen on full display. Even mixed with the black ink of his tattoos, they were already noticeable.

“Please, Marisa, let me look at your hands.”

She was able to inhale a shaky breath when he released her and she wasn’t better, but it was one less thing she had to get under control. She hugged her arms around her middle, her hands aching, feeling the slick slide of blood down her arms from the razor thin cuts, and slid into one of the chairs he gestured to. She didn’t have to worry about falling down either, one less thing to worry about

Now if only she could quell this irrational panic and breathe normally.

She folded in on herself, hunching over, and focused on one spot on the floor as she counted her breaths, repeating her inner mantra, seeing Reed in her periphery but not really seeing anything but that one spot. She had to believe she would be fine and after minutes that felt like eons, she felt like she was coming back to herself. She was able to breathe a little easier at least. Everything else felt wrong and off and backwards and it hurt, but she could breathe.

Marisa glanced up at Reed and lost her breath all over again. She had seen him shirtless before and considering he was wiping blood from his face, the fact that she was noticing his chiseled body and dark ink against his skin was shameful. At mention of her hands, she brought them to her knees, palms up and looked down at them.

She could feel the sting of glass and she frowned. “I can do it,” she said whisper-soft, exhaustion dogging her, a headache pounding at her temples and she glanced around for her wand. She had to do it. She didn’t want to chance another vision. “Are you all right?” she asked a beat later, her gaze on him, trying to discern from the amount of blood how badly injured he was. Her scrapes seemed paltry in comparison. She touched her arms, sliding her fingers up, trying to feel how bad the razor thin cuts were, but when she pulled back her fingers to glance at them, she could only see the faint smear of blood that had already been there from the shards of glass. Had it clotted already? She blinked in confusion, feeling the pain radiating from the cuts.