Arla turned away and wiped at her nose, not feeling guilty about getting blood on the handkerchief. He carried a handkerchief. Wow. Her right hand was still clenching his, and soon it was obvious that it wasn't for safety as much as it was the fact that she couldn't actually let go.
"Son of a bitch. I want to go home. I want to go home. Right now. I want to go home, David. Now."