"She got up again and ran up the stairs, but I couldn't--I don't know what happened after that." He licked his lips. "She was afraid of something... felt bad about something... worried... panic." Shaking out of it again, Aaron blinked at Rosalie sleepily.
"R1? It's all over you. It gets all over everything when you're that depressed. I don't know how anyone can be up there." Quiet shudder. He was sitting up now, at least, relatively alert, and working the tension out of his shoulders. Rosalie reacted to her environment like a well-adjusted person, and Aaron could handle worry and confusion on that level. He frowned a little at her, shifting out of his cocoon and rising. Standing upright on the worn tennis shoes, he touched the air between them with careful fingers, tipping his head sideways. It was hard to get anything off of anyone that had been in or near R1. Suicidal depression was kind of like vinegar, soaking into everything, but he got a little nearer to feel out all the emotion leftover from everything she touched. Puzzled, he asked, "Why was he afraid of you?"