Oh, Bryant. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like, going to sleep with one leg and waking up with two. Believing yourself to be quite mad, however; that she could sympathize with.
She shifted, placing herself a little more behind him than to the side; that way, he could lean against her, weight supported more easily with her body. She was naked, but then--so was he. And right now, that wasn't important. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not when he needed her.
There was a funny thought. She wasn't used to being needed. She'd missed it, desperately, when her son had been stolen and her heart had been ripped out of her chest, still beating, to go with him. But now...now, Bryant needed her, and she rubbed his arms bracingly.
"You have two, Bryant." Her voice was quiet, and gentle. "You have two legs, whole. But...one of them is not a prosthetic. And it looks...familiar, to me."
Oh, it was hard to say the words. She was beginning to grow suspicious of whose leg it was, with that skin color and those tattoos--hadn't she just been talking about how he'd been beating someone else up? A danger? Maybe this was his punishment. She couldn't say it aloud. If it was true...
If it was true, then Bryant needed to reach the conclusion for himself. And she was here. She found herself saying it aloud, a low murmur near his ear: "It's okay, whatever happens, I'm here."
Pausing, Kessie rubbed Bryant's arms again, eyes flickering. "I think you need to open your eyes, Bryant. I think you need to open them and look."