The soft, flexible fabric of the shirt was twisted in her hands as James regarded Lotte's nearly terrified closed-lipped, closed-eyed silence. Lotte couldn't even bare to look at her, and James exhaled sharply in a curse that was directed at nobody but herself. What was she trying to prove?
She was already peeling her way back into her shirt when Lotte's concerned murmur drew James' eyes. She brushed it off with a drop of her head, tugging the hem of her shirt back into place. "I'm sorry, I don't know what- I have to go, I-" Her throat went tight with a refusal to keep speaking, it ached like the words were barbs in her tonsils. With another brief, dismissive shake of her head, James turned for the door. Eager to escape before she broke into tears.